Chapter fifty-three
Philip leaned back in his chair and swivelled with both legs upon his desk, goofing around with a gun in his hands and a wicked smirk on. His five friends took simpler seats around him with their gazes in one direction; before them.
With her hands still tied to her back, Monica was shoved down her knees right before their very eyes, red hair falling over her face to shield half the grim she had on. They were smirking down at her like a prize they'd finally won!
Monica almost spat at the majordomo who had ruthlessly handled her through the crowd of guests, into a carriage, right through the empire's gates and up the stairs.
But now, she faced the Monarchs with her teeth gritted and jaws clenched, her eyes travelling round them in the angriest of stares. Sweat dripped down her bowed face and trickled down to the floor.
It was the Duke's next words that brought her attention up to them again, "How do you want it lads, an arrow through her skull or her head under a guillotine. Either way, I want it bloody."
Monica frowned in irritation and watched them go on joking about the different parts of her body they wanted to take home in such a moment. The discussion seemed very crucial much to her frustration.
"Just hear me out," she interrupted with a bit of fear.
Their gazes shot at her, pinned her, sucked her of every ounce of courage she had left…and almost pierced through her. Still, she struggled for breath and looked them back in the eyes.
Abruptly, Philip lowered his legs from the desk and leaned forward, giving her a larger dose of the glare, "As a matter of fact Monica, you came into my home, tricked us into believing you were on our side, possibly committed homicides right under our noses just so you could get your home back and wage war on England! How do you plan to phrase your own version of the tale that'll make it explainable?"
"In three words Monica," Jason spoke in a pained voice slightly deeper than normal, "You betrayed us."
"I found you admirable,"Peter added while blinking tears back, "you had skills I had never seen in any woman, along with a seemingly gold heart. But they were too good to be true in the end, weren't they?"
Monica looked at them all and forgot to breathe. If she was fighting to curtain the guilt of all she'd undoubtedly done, they were doing nothing to help it. While the men went on pouring her wrongs to her face, she lowered her gaze which had become a bit moist and blurry, "I am sorry!"
Marquesses of Bellingham had chosen to be quiet until those words were said. He looked at her with obvious disgust, shaking his head  in plain disapproval. "You're sorry?!" He spat, "Why did you suddenly feel so? Why did you come back? Just what more do you plan to take away?"
"I was just as oblivious as you all were about my father initiating a war," she fought to top the pitch of all other voices in the room, striving to be heard. "And when I got back to Scotland and was expected to live on with his legacy, I realized. And although it chewed amd gnawed on my conscience, I decided the best thing to do was come back. To correct what I had done."
Silence fell upon the Duke's office for a short while, making her think the words she said has sunk in. She breathed expectantly while she felt them study her intently.
"Monica to be honest, we do not really care about the stupid war holding or not," Philip rushed the statement without specifically looking straight at her, "The point is you never really considered yourself part of us."
Finally, he managed to gaze into her eyes and found his voice grow shaky and quieter. It was not usual for him to stutter but he formed the habit now, "Did you not feel anything when you ran away like that from all those who risked their lives to help you? Did you not consider the bonds you formed? I broke my betrothal because of you!"
The last sentence was shrieked with a spice of anger and hyperactivity that his mane of brown hair had begun falling to his eyes. Subsequently, his eyes grew moist, making him clench his teeth and force his authority out again, "We thought we were family! But all you had in mind was getting your damned home back, so bad you never stopped to think!"
She never argued once, silently agreeing and regretting, as unhelpful as it was at a point like this. She knew too well she could not take all her wrongs back. But one thing she would strive to do is fix everything she'd done, "I'd endure every bit of torture you so desire. All I ask is your forgiveness."
"Making one mistake twice is something I'd never wish to do," Jason finally chose to form words from the mixed array of feelings he tried so hard not to show, "We believed you the first time. But God will be wrong before we decide to make that mistake again."
At that point, there was no breath of chance for the Scottish to utter a single word. Continuously, words flew from one Monarch to the other just as her eyes followed, gasping, praying for a hopeful sentence from their side and keeping silent to let them go on.
"And as the case appears," Philip tapped the tip of his quill pen upon a plain white paper, "Monica Maitland. You will remain in the abode of the Forland estate until my wedding is finalized and all operations back on track. Then we decide what we do with you."
"In that way," Timothy pushed himself up from where he sat and turned to her, a dirty grim on, "Your actions will be well monitored so that you will not ruin more than you already have."
And she gasped.
***
Silver slippers clicked upon the marbles in fast angry steps. With a near slide, she turned to the gallery at her right and continued her marching frenzy.
It went on for what felt like forever through the enormous mansion, until she halted suddenly before a closed pair of double doors.
Elizabeth pushed them open and sent a frown across the room till they rested upon who she sought for.
"I've been waiting for you," Monica said with a near smile, ignoring the glower being cast down upon her. When she raised her head to meet her cousin's gaze, she grinned some more and pushed herself up from the four-poster bed.
"I thought we had an agreement," the blonde spat, "why did you come back?!"
The Scottish chose not to answer until she cleared the distance between them. In a slightly offensive way, she smirked at the other lass and sighed, "It wasn't my plan to go back on my words. But as it stands, I have no choice."
The frown on Elizabeth's face deepened at her words, and for a necessary time, all they did was exchange glares. "Counsel me," she decided to break the silence, "What possible notion would require to take my place as bride, ruin my wedding and place your lips upon my betrothed's right in the grace of my presence?"
"You make it sound awful," Monica grimaced.
When all the blonde did was incline her head and wait, the Scottish sighed and dug her fingers through her hair, "As much as it surprised me, I confided in mama. And she said something."
Now Elizabeth took a deep breath and listened.
"I realised if I stayed back in Scotland while half of England want my head and the other half want me butchered, there would have been an enormous chance my country stood at the verge of destruction." Monica Maitland forced every bit of politeness into her voice with her green eyes on her cousin.
The other lady however did not seem to care at the moment, "And you do not think of this before now? That doesn't still explain why you ruined my wedding the way you did."
Her confidence suddenly broke for some reason while she practised her next reply in her head, "The truth is, I think I made a mistake while seducing Philip…"
"I thought you made the word yourself," Elizabeth teased with a short smile.
And the other lady remembered the words as hers. Instead of Monica to feel belittled, she agreed and shook her head, "I think I began liking the Duke."
Without caring to check her reaction, Monica turned away at the realisation she had a bit of moisture in her eyes, "I got Kilmarnock back undoubtedly. But there was no sense of…fulfilment," she faced her cousin again and went on, "I had never been truly happy until our trip to London. And it wasn't the essence of the trip, it was the people with me."
By now, her gaze was distant as the memories flushed by, "Six beautiful lads and then you…" Monica shrugged, "I realized it was not my goal that kept me striving, it was all of you."
Elizabeth stopped frowning, silently agreeing and reminiscing about the moments, glorious and youthful. "And the slow waltz with Earl back at the palace," she found herself say without consciousness.
While she was surprised by her own words, Monica watched her with a small smile, "I realized. I understand the Duke had always been a target for your entire clan. But then who gives you the spark you search for?"
The blonde looked away and ignored the question, although the answer was painted on her face. In ways she least expected, she pondered upon the notion Monica had presented before her.
And with the luring aura she always used, the red haired lass swirled in graceful steps to Elizabeth, placing her hands softly on her shoulders, "I came back because I am certain this marriage will destroy my life, yours and that of Philip's." Slowly, she twirled to the lady's side and continued the pure temptation, whispering the words with a rasp, "Earl understands you better than any other man has ever done. Go on. Think about it and save your happiness while you can."
If Monica expected anything from her, it wasn't such a shocking reaction. Elizabeth looked straight at her and wrapped her arms around the Scottish, sending sulks of helplessness into her ear, "As much as I respect you Monica, I cannot forsake everything after coming this far."
Her cousin pulled a sad frown and embraced back, patting the curls of her blonde hair with genuine tenderness, "I understand."
But no she didn't. Because she understood one thing. This surely wouldn't be Elizabeth's final decision after all that temptation.