It was a firm, bruising claim of possession, executed with deliberate theatricality. Olivia's mind went entirely blank as the Duke's lips pressed against hers. A sudden, shocking rush of heat made her knees weak. Bong!
The second chime echoed.
Mason broke the kiss and turned slowly to face his uncle, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around Olivia's waist. He looked at Horatio with a smile so cold and victorious it could have frozen the Thames. "You are too late, Uncle," Mason said softly, his voice carrying perfectly in the stunned silence of the chapel. He gestured to the altar where Higgins was currently blowing on the freshly drying ink of the marriage registry. "May I present to you and to the magistrates you so kindly brought to witness the occasion, my wife, the Duchess of Westford."
Horatio stopped dead in his tracks, his face draining of all color, his eyes darted to the registry, to the bishop, and finally to the woman standing at Mason's side. Gideon Carmichael pushed past Horatio, his eyes widening as he finally recognized the bride beneath the soot and messy hair. "Lady Olivia," he choked out, his face contorting in sheer disbelief and rage. "That is impossible. She belongs to me."
"She belongs to no one, Carmichael," Mason growled, his demeanor shifting instantly from triumphant aristocrat to lethal protector. He positioned himself slightly in front of Olivia, shielding her. "She is my wife, and if you speak to the Duchess of Westford with such disrespect again, I will have you thrown into the river."
The clock continued to chime the midnight hour. Each strike a deafening hammer blow, sealing their fates. Bong, bong, bong.
Olivia stood trembling against the solid warmth of the Duke, her new husband. The deed was done. The impossible transaction was complete. She had outmaneuvered Carmichael, and Mason had defeated his uncle. They had won.
But as the final chime of midnight faded into the stunned silence of the chapel and Olivia looked up into the inscrutable dark eyes of the stranger she had just sworn her life to, a terrifying realization washed over her. The legal battle was over. But the true danger, the intimate, unpredictable reality of being bound forever to a powerful, dangerous man who knew her deepest secrets had only just begun.
Sunlight pierced the heavy golden curtains of the Duchess's suite at Westford Manor, casting long, dusty beams across the sprawling canopy bed. Olivia awoke with a violent start, her heart pounding against her ribs as the memories of the previous night crashed down upon her. The break-in, the ticking clock, the hasty vows spoken over the shattered remnants of the chapel doors, the branding heat of the Duke's kiss.
She sat up, clutching the silk sheets to her chest. She was no longer a destitute orphan hiding from creditors. She was Olivia Brooks, Duchess of Westford.
A timid knock echoed through the vast bed chamber before the door creaked open. A young maid entered, carrying a silver tray laden with hot chocolate, fresh scones, and a folded copy of the Morning Chronicle. Right behind the maid strode Mason. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored morning coat of dark navy wool, looking every inch the ruthless aristocrat who had conquered his enemies at midnight. Yet there were dark circles beneath his striking eyes, hinting at a sleepless night.
"Leave us," Mason instructed the maid gently. Once the door clicked shut, he turned his penetrating gaze upon Olivia. "Good morning, your grace. I trust the bed was more comfortable than my library floor."
Olivia flushed, pulling the sheets higher. "Considerably, though I confess, I half expected to wake up in the Fleet Prison. Did your uncle truly surrender?"
Mason's expression darkened, the easy charm vanishing. He pulled a wingback chair to the edge of the bed and sat, resting his forearms on his knees. "Horatio never surrenders. He merely retreats to reload.
Higgins spent the entire night at Doctors' Commons securing the registry. But at dawn, we received a summons. My uncle and Gideon Carmichael have filed a formal petition with the crown to have our marriage annulled on the grounds of fraud and criminality."
Olivia's breath hitched. "Criminality?"
"Carmichael went straight to the Bow Street Runners," Mason explained, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "He reported that you broke into my home to steal the Lynfield Sapphire. He claims that I caught you and that you seduced or blackmailed me into marriage to escape the gallows. Horatio is using this to argue that I am of unsound mind and that you are an opportunistic felon.
They have demanded a hearing before the magistrate tomorrow morning. If they convince the judge, the marriage is voided. My estate transfers to Horatio and you hang for grand larceny."
Panic cold and sharp flooded Olivia's veins. She had survived the night only to be dragged back to the edge of the abyss. "But you bought the sapphire from him. Carmichael stole it from my father first."
"I know that, and you know that," Mason said, reaching out to gently grasp her trembling hand. His touch was warm, sending a reassuring jolt through her panic. "But the law requires proof. Carmichael is a master of forging ledgers. He has a paper trail proving your father owed him £10,000 and that the sapphire was legally seized. We have nothing but your word against a wealthy gentleman's."
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, a tear escaping to track down her cheek. "I have ruined you. You should have let me go. You could have found someone else."
"There was no one else, Olivia," Mason said fiercely, his thumb brushing away the tear with surprising tenderness. "And I do not regret my choice, but we must be clever. Why did your father give him the necklace? Lord Lynfield was a cautious man. He would not have handed over a priceless family heirloom for a simple gambling debt."
Olivia opened her eyes, staring at the intricate lace of her bedding. "It was not a gambling debt. My father was investigating Carmichael. He believed Carmichael was defrauding the naval shipyards, substituting rotten timber for the king's fleet, and pocketing the gold.
My father found proof, a ledger. But before he could present it to Parliament, Carmichael cornered him. He threatened my life. He demanded the ledger, and he took the sapphire as a sick trophy to ensure my father's silence.
My father died suddenly two days later, and Carmichael claimed the debt was unpaid."
Mason's eyes widened, a predatory gleam igniting within them. "Treason. Carmichael committed treason against the crown."
He stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room. "If your father gave him the ledger, then Carmichael likely destroyed it. But a man like Carmichael would keep collateral. He would keep a record of his leverage."