Silence No More

43. Sacrifices and Miracles

"W-what?"

The gun in my hands trembled and nearly slipped from my grip. Judging by the look on Mr Ambrose's face, he'd happily have picked it up to force his sister to retract her words.

Squaring her shoulders, Adaira stepped forward. "I said...I'm going to marry him." She nodded at the vicomte. "Just stop the duel. Please."

"Mon Dieu!" Holstering his pistol, the Saint-Celeste placed a hand on his chest as if he were touched. "You're concerned for me, chérie?"

Maybe he is touched. In the head.

But the way his eyes swept up and down Adaira's figure told me differently. The smile that appeared on his face sent a shiver down my back.

"Just tell me," Adaira squeezed out between clenched teeth. "Do you accept or not?"

"A lady proposing to a man? How very...progressive. Very well, Mademoiselle." Striding forward, Saint-Celeste snatched my sister-in-law's hand and, with a bow, placed a kiss upon her knuckles. "I accept."

"Adaira!" I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. "Don't! We can find another way! We can—"

My voice abruptly cut off when I met her eyes. They were filled with nothing but defeat. All I got in response to my desperate plea was a sad smile and a shake of the head.

"You don't have to do this!" I tried once again, my voice no more than a whisper. "You don't—"

"I do. There's no other way." Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. "Thank you for your undying adoration, Mr Linton. But I am afraid I will have to reject your love."

Under normal circumstances, I would have answered: I would bloody well hope so! But right now? Right now, I could understand this for the secret message it was: It's over, Lilly. Let it be.

Without hesitation, I opened my mouth to reject—only for a picture of Berty to appear in front of my inner eye. I glanced down at the abandoned gun on the ground and didn't find the will within myself to pick it up. My mouth closed again.

"So," the vicomte enquired, gazing up at Adaira from under his eyelashes, "how long before the wedding, chérie?"

"I, um..."

"Best not make it too long," he added. "Lest someone—" He threw a glance my way. "—tries to interfere."

"That will not happen," The marquess's cold voice cut through the air. "I will not allow anyone to besmirch my daughter's honour. Including herself."

Never had I wanted to punch someone in the face so much as in that very moment.

Judging by the fact that he was currently striding towards his father with clenched fists, my dear husband seemed to agree with me. He was already halfway to his goal, fists raised, when his mother noticed and lunged forward to grab hold of him.

"No, Rick! No!"

"Mother?" he squeezed out between clenched teeth. "Let. Go."

"This isn't the way, Rick. Please."

"Where there is a fist, there's a way."

"Um, Rick, dear...I'm not sure that's how the saying goe—"

She was cut off mid-sentence by his icy glare. Shrugging out of her grip with ease, he started towards his father once more—until a slender hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Rick? Stop. Please."

Slowly, he turned to look down at his sister. "Adaira...I..."

"Shh." Reaching up, she silenced him with a finger. The tears at the corners of her eyes belied the smile she tried to give her brother. "It'll be all right, brother. It—"