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“And that’s you. Alyssa chose to share our story because...” A discomfited look crossed his face.
“Because I see Warren in you, Mary. You love Rathe the way he loved me, without limits, without any thought of wanting something in return. And I...I see myself in my son, the way life has forced him to be strong, independent, and fearful of being hurt.”
Alyssa and Warren exchanged a look that spoke volumes of their feelings. Without glancing back at Mary, she said quietly, “You asked me earlier about whether it’s true that I believe Rathe loves you.”
Slowly, Rathe’s mother faced her. “Yes. I do. But I don’t think he knows it yet. It’s up to you to make him see the truth, the way Warren made me see.”
The words sounded so easy to do, but Mary knew it was the exact opposite. “But what if still he rejects me?” she whispered. “What if he doesn’t believe me?”
As Rathe’s mother, Alyssa wanted to tell Mary that she shouldn’t give up. That she should keep trying. But as a woman, Alyssa wasn’t blind to all the sacrifices the girl had already made for her son.
Warren, too, had suffered a lot in choosing to love her, but in their relationship, he had been the older and mature one. Mary, however, was only eighteen years old and she had already gone through so much ordeal.
“It is my turn to beg you, my child. Please give my son one last chance. Please fight for him, and if he still does not...if he still ends up hurting you...” Alyssa paused, knowing that once she made her promise, she would be honor-bound to keep her word.
“You have my word, Mary. I will personally make sure he would never have a chance to hurt you again.”
Chapter Ten
“Your Grace?” A politeknock followed, just before the door to the Duke of Flanders’ office quietly opened and his personal assistant, Edward, stepped inside with an uncomfortable expression on his face. “You have a visitor, Your Grace.”
As expected, the unwarranted interruption had Edward’s employer scowling blackly at him. “Who is it?”
Normally, the duke was a fairly predictable chap, one who could never be accused of mood swings. But in the past several weeks, the duke had transformed into a monster whose temper could be roused by just about anything.
It had caused everyone in the office to tiptoe around him, and even his most obsessive fans – women who used to pretend to swoon every time the duke walked past them – now scurried away at the sight of him. No one wanted to accidentally earn the duke’s ire and be at the receiving end of his wrath.
But unfortunately for Edward, his job left him no choice in that score.
At the duke’s question, dozens of options ran through Edward’s normally agile mind. But the situation he found himself in was so unique he found himself incapable of sorting it out. In the end, he decided to go with the bald truth. After all, Rathe Wellesley had always told him never to waste his time with roundabout explanations.
“Ms. Mary Ashton is here to see you, Your Grace.”
Rathe froze. “Excuse me?”
“Ms. Mary Ashton, Your Grace. Your, ahh, paramour—-”
