Page 12 of Her Scandalous Rake (The Worthington Legacy #8)

D iana’s stomach churned with dread, her nerves fraying with every passing second. She had barely slept, her mind a relentless whirlwind of worst-case scenarios. All night, she had waited, hoping Tristan would come with good news. But as dawn arrived without him, her deepest fears began to take root, suffocating her fragile hope. What if he hadn’t been able to convince Hollingsworth to release the betrothal contract? What if this nightmare truly had no escape?

By ten o’clock, her mother had dragged her into the nearest village for more shopping, an errand that felt like torture. She didn’t want to see anyone—least of all the villagers who might greet her with cheerful smiles, unaware of the dread eating her alive. She couldn’t bear the thought of meeting their gazes and acknowledging that she was destined to be the viscount’s bride. Her pulse thumped at the very thought, her skin prickling as if she were wearing a dress made of needles.

As they moved from one shop to the next, Diana kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the bustling townsfolk. In the dress shop, she stationed herself by the window while her mother haggled with the shopkeeper. The warm, musty scent of fabric surrounded her, but she hardly noticed. Her gaze kept darting outside, scanning the road as if Tristan might magically appear to rescue her.

She sighed, resting her forehead briefly against the cool glass. But then—movement. Her breath hitched as her eyes locked on a figure across the street, standing just inside the blacksmith’s barn. A familiar shadow. A man facing the shop. Her heart stumbled in her chest, then began to race.

Tristan.

She didn’t think. She couldn’t. The need to see him, to hear those long-awaited words— you’re free —propelled her forward with reckless speed. Her legs carried her before her mind could catch up, and she burst from the shop, dodging a startled vendor as she made her way across the road. The clatter of a passing horse and buggy barely registered as she darted between them, her skirts brushing the wheels. She was breathless, nearly to the barn door, her pulse thundering in her ears.

In just moments, she would see him. Just moments, and everything could change.

Entering the stable, she called out, “Tristan?”

The shadow moved toward the light. A strong hand grasped her arm and pain shot through her limb, making her cry out.

“No, my dear Diana. It’s not your precious Tristan, but your fiancé.”

The scent of alcohol from his breath made her gag, and she tried to pull away. Instead, he yanked her closer.

“Ah, my pretty Diana.” His hand stroked her cheek. “You are going to make a fine, passionate wife, especially if you show as much interest in me as you do to Lord Tristan.”

“Please, my lord.” She struggled to get him to release her arm. “I don’t wish to marry you. I will never love you. I love Tristan.”

A fierce growl rattled through his throat and suddenly, both hands were on her arms as he roughly pressed his body against hers. “I care not about love. Only possession. You will be mine and there is nothing anyone can do about it.”

“Y—y—you are wrong. Tristan promised he’d make things right.” Fear shook through her body.

He cackled a laugh. “Oh, my dear Diana, how wrong you are to put so much trust in a Worthington brother. I can assure you, once Tristan realizes what kind of woman you are, he will turn and run far away from you and your miserable, penniless family.”

“What are you talking about? He knows what kind of woman I am.”

He stared into her eyes for the longest time before a smile snuck across his face. “Am I to believe that you don’t even know what kind of family you have? If any true nobleman learned of your family’s dark secret, I assure you, nobody would look upon you even if you were lying in the gutter and they had to step across you to get to the other side.”

“Lord Hollingsworth, please.” She struggled against him. “You are not making any sense. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just know this,” he said in a lower voice as he brought his face closer to hers, “once the secret is out, I will be the only man who will want you, and you will be happy that I’m such an understanding husband.”

Behind her, a loud curse tore through the barn, cutting through the air like a whip. She spun around just in time to see Hollingsworth ripped from her side and hit the ground with a heavy thud. Her breath hitched as she took in the scene—Tristan standing over him, fists clenched, muscles taut with barely contained rage. His eyes burned with intensity, a storm brewing behind them, and for a moment, the barn seemed to shrink around them, suffocating in its charged atmosphere.

Diana sobbed with relief, tears blurring her vision as her knees weakened beneath her. He was here. He found her. For a brief, fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe everything would be all right. But the weight of uncertainty quickly pressed down on her chest. Could she trust that Tristan’s presence would bring the salvation she craved, or would it only plunge them deeper into this mess? Would he be her shield—or the spark that ignited an even greater disaster?

The tension between the two men crackled like dry wood catching flame. Hollingsworth groaned on the floor, rolling to his side, but Tristan didn’t move, his fists still raised as if ready to strike again. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.

“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. She didn’t know whether she was pleading for him to stop or for him to finish what he’d started.

His eyes met hers. Worry etched his expression. “Are you all right?”

“Y—yes. I thank you for saving me. Again.”

On the ground, Hollingsworth muttered curses as he stood. “You have crossed me for the last time, Worthington.” He aimed his curse toward Tristan as he jumped to his feet.

Tristan glared, his blue eyes as hard as steel. “I told you earlier, I would not let you marry Diana.”

“And I told you that you don’t have a choice!” Hollingsworth thundered as he rushed forward.

Growling, Tristan punched Hollingsworth in the nose, and the older man fell back to the ground.

She gasped and covered her mouth, but heard other gasps around her. Startled, she swung around to look behind her. Several people from the village had gathered. Embarrassment washed over her. Scandal was about to explode, and this kind of gossip would spread like wildfire.

Hollingsworth’s evil laugh pulled her attention back to him. A trickle of blood dripped from his mouth.

“Lord Tristan, I grow tired of your attitude. This between us will end now.” He swallowed hard. “Better yet, it will end tomorrow morning. At sunrise, I challenge you to a duel at Harvey’s Cliffs. Be there with a second, or your name—and your family’s name—will be reduced to that of cowards.”

Tristan threw a glance over his shoulder at the crowd who was growing larger by the second, and then looked back at Hollingsworth. Tristan pulled his shoulders back and lifted a stubborn chin.

“I accept your challenge.”

“And the winner will have Miss Baldwin as their wife,” Hollingsworth added.

A cold hand wrapped around Diana’s arm. Her mother stood beside her with a face void of color. “We are leaving now !” she grumbled.

“Yes, Mother.”

Diana turned and looked back at Tristan, her breath catching as her gaze met his. A soft smile curved the corners of his lips, bracketing his face with warmth she hadn’t realized how desperately she needed. He mouthed the words, don’t worry, and in that brief moment, her fears unraveled like thread slipping from a spool. Her heart swelled, bursting with a happiness so pure that it momentarily drowned out the storm of dread that had consumed her all morning.

The silent reassurance gave her the strength she hadn’t known she possessed. With renewed courage, she turned toward her mother, ready to leave and face whatever wrath her father would unleash once he learned of today’s events. The road ahead was steep and uncertain, but Tristan’s promise—unspoken yet deeply understood—gave her the resolve to move forward.

As they walked away, the breeze whispered through her hair, carrying the salty tang of the sea from the nearby cliffs. Harvey’s Cliffs were notorious for duels, their jagged edges stained with the echoes of challenges fought and resolved. But Diana didn’t tremble at the thought. Deep down, she knew Tristan would emerge the victor. He had never failed her before, not when it truly mattered, and her heart told her he never would.

With every step, she clung to that truth: Tristan was her anchor, her constant in a world of shifting tides. And no matter what awaited them beyond those cliffs, she believed she could count on him—always.

*

Tears spilled down Diana’s cheeks, warm and relentless, as she stood by the window, staring blindly at the world beyond the glass. The muffled voices of her parents and Lord Hollingsworth filled the room behind her, discussing the details of her swift, inevitable wedding. Their words were like knives slicing through her composure, and she trembled beneath the weight of her despair.

She had waited all morning, clinging to hope like a lifeline, desperate to hear something— anything —about the duel. But when her father had delivered the news, it had hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from her lungs.

Tristan didn’t show up for the duel… Took the coward’s way out… He’s nowhere to be found.

The words echoed endlessly in her mind, a cruel refrain that refused to fade. She bit her lip until it hurt, trying to keep herself from sobbing aloud. She couldn’t afford to believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. Tristan had promised her, hadn’t he? He was supposed to fight for her, to free her from the chains that Hollingsworth had tightened around her life.

Yet, where was he now?

Witnesses at Harvey’s Cliffs had confirmed it—Tristan hadn’t shown up. Only Hollingsworth had been there, standing smug and victorious. And Tristan, the man she had trusted with her heart, had vanished.

Abandoned her. Left her to the mercy of a vile, ruthless viscount whose interest in her wasn’t love, but possession. She was nothing more than a prize to Hollingsworth, a trophy to be displayed. He didn’t care about her hopes, her dreams, or her fears. He only cared about winning.

Piece by piece, her heart splintered, breaking under the weight of betrayal and shattered dreams. Tristan hadn’t loved her—not the way she had loved him. She had been willing to give up everything, even prepared to elope with him if it meant escaping the suffocating future her parents had arranged. But he hadn’t fought for her. He hadn’t shown up.

He’d left her alone.

A sob finally escaped her lips, and she pressed her hand against her mouth to stifle it. The truth was unbearable, but she couldn’t run from it any longer. Tristan was gone, and she was trapped.

In a way, Diana wanted to feel relief—relief that she had seen Tristan Worthington’s true colors before she had married him. A coward. A deceiver. A man who had abandoned her when she had needed him most. Her mind whispered that she should be grateful, that fate had spared her from tying herself to someone so unreliable. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the ache in her chest wouldn’t subside.

Her heart stubbornly refused to let go of him. Even now, with her trust shattered and her future slipping through her fingers, it clung to the memories of the man she had believed him to be—the man who had once made her laugh, who had stolen her breath with tender kisses and whispered promises of forever.

She hated him. She should hate him. But the truth burned like a brand in her soul: she still loved him, despite it all. And that love, unwanted and unbearable, was what hurt the most.

Tears blurred her vision as she stared out the window, her mind replaying moments that now felt like cruel illusions. She had imagined a life with him, had dreamed of a future full of adventure and freedom, away from the rigid constraints of duty and expectation. Now, that future had dissolved, crumbling like a fragile dream in the morning light.

Her gaze drifted to the road beyond the window, as if hoping, irrationally, to see him standing there. But there was nothing. Only the cold, indifferent world outside.

The bleak reality of her situation settled in her chest like a stone. She would marry Hollingsworth, a man who saw her as a possession rather than a partner. She would live a life dictated by duty, her hopes buried beneath the weight of someone else’s ambition.

The thought suffocated her, and yet she could do nothing to change it. Tristan wasn’t coming back.

Her heart had been wrong to believe in him. But even now, it refused to stop hoping. And that, more than anything, was the cruelest betrayal of all.