The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

That brief contact seemed to infuse the marquis with renewed ire. Gasping, he shoved himself to his feet. “Don’t lay one lowlife finger on my daughter.” He thrust Daphne aside, unsteadily preparing to deliver his next punch.

“Stop it, Father.” Daphne stepped between them.

“Stand aside, Daphne,” he shot back.

“No.”

Tragmore’s eyes bulged. “You dare defy me?” he thundered.

“Yes.” Her chin came up. “I dare defy you.”

“Why you insolent—”

“Strike her and you’re a dead man, Tragmore.” Pierce’s voice w

as lethally quiet. “Not just now, but ever. As of today, Daphne is no longer your concern or your victim.”

“I’m her father, you odious bastard.”

“And I’m her husband.”

The proclamation erupted like thunder, a deadly silence hovering in its wake.

“You’re lying,” Harwick spat at last.

“No, Harwick, he’s not. I married them today. In my church.”

The vicar’s false declaration jolted through Daphne, and she jerked about, staring at him in amazement.

Utterly composed, he continued addressing the marquis. “Now cease this violence at once. It will accomplish nothing.”

“You married—” Tragmore was still reeling. “Who else was present at this farce of a wedding?”

Another silence.

“Elizabeth.” Harwick abruptly answered his own question. “So that’s what my faithless wife was desperate to keep from me, damn her. Well, I’ll deal with her first. Then I’ll have this bloody marriage annulled.”

“No, Father, you won’t,” Daphne heard herself say. “The decision was mine, and I’ve made it. Neither threats nor violence can alter that fact.”

Tragmore’s fists clenched and unclenched. “We’ll see about that,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Abruptly, he turned, climbed into his carriage, and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“Mama,” Daphne murmured, gripping Pierce’s sleeve in alarm.

“I’ll have her out of the manor before Tragmore arrives home.”

“But he’s already on his way.”

“I’m faster. Trust me.”

Daphne looked up at him through bewildered eyes. “I have no idea what just happened.”

The lines of fury on Pierce’s face eased, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “I believe you just accepted my marriage proposal.”

“Evidently, I did.” She turned to the vicar. “You lied. Blatantly. You’ve never done that before.”

“Nor have I done so now. I merely told Harwick I married you and the duke today in my church. Which I fully intend to do, just as soon as the duke returns from Tragmore with your mother.” Chambers frowned. “If Harwick should reach Elizabeth first—”

“He won’t.” Pierce was in motion again. “My mount is just beyond those trees. I’ll ride through the woods, bypassing the village and traveling as the crow flies. I’ll beat Tragmore by a good quarter hour. I’ll meet you at the church with the marchioness. Now go.” He vanished into the cluster of trees.