Chapter Thirty One
She broke into a flat out dash, her hands flailing, the hem of her dress trailing, out of the chapel. The crowd watched her until she exited through the door as one before turning to stare at him, next. The hushed silence was suffocating and William hooked a hand on his cravat and pulled it loose.
What a mess. He should have probably handled it better. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have ignored his bloody ego. William ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes fixed on the doorway where Charlotte had just ran out of. Remorse yanked his guts in a painful tug and pain started to burn his heart. That was it: he’d lost her.
He was a bloody idiot.
Edwin and Crawford were the first ones to rise from their seats. Both men stared at him like the rest of the crowd. Crawford strode forward purposely until he came into a halt in front of William.
“It was a bloody misunderstanding you arse!” He shouted before delivering a sound blow to William’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Several woman cried in alarm and men were propelled to their feet for a better look of the brawl that was about to take place. The priest crossed himself. While William lay sprawled on the floor, Edwin and the rest of the brothers ran forward to restrain Crawford. Charlotte’s friends were gone, probably off to console her. Except for Lorelei, she was standing by the duke, pale with distress.
William pushed himself into a sitting position and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The stung from Charlotte well delivered slap have not yet receded. The punch got his head spinning and anger was clouding his better judgment. Before he could stand to return the favor, Oliver and Edwin gripped his arms, restraining him.
“Enough!” The clear, commanding voice laced through the chaos. Looking to his left, William saw Charlotte’s father, the Earl of Markham strode forward. His eyes darting from him to Crawford.
“What is going on here?” He questioned with equal authority.
“It’s my fault.” William’s head jerked back to the pews. Lorelei had stood up.
“No.” Crawford spat, pointing toward him. “It’s his and no one elses.”
William watched his sister’s eyes grew cloudy and her shoulders started to quiver. “Lorry, please explain.” William instructed.
It took Lorry ten minutes to untangle the confusion. By the end of her explanation, William felt like murdering himself. He looked up to his sister and rose to his feet. He extended his hand and held Lorry’s gloved ones tenderly. Lorry produced a small sob.
“I’m sorry.” He said. “And you should know that, under no circumstances, you are to sacrifice your happiness for mine. I thought you knew that?”
Lorelei sniffed and shook her head. Tears were pooling in her eyes. “Go to her.” She said and smiled through her tears. “Go, now!” With a push from Edwin and a slap on the back from Kendal and Oliver, William started a mad dash for the door but not before pausing to pin a hard gaze of Crawford.
“Break her heart and I will gladly return the punch you owe me.”
At first, William thought that he needed to search the whole castle for her. Because by God, he would comb every last inch of the castle if necessary. Thankfully, there was no need for that. On the carpeted floor, lay a scattered trail of delicate petals that must have had fallen from Charlotte’s bouquet. The trail led him to the grand library located on the east wing. Huddled outside the door were Charlotte’s friends, pleading for her to open the door.
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The Corinthians Series: Rules of Masquerade
Historical FictionWhat will you get if you pair a reckless, impulsive, dramatic young lady and London's corinthian and master conspirator in an obscure engagement? Simple: the bride to be will try to flee and the groom to be will do what he does best, to seduce and...