by Laura Landon
Her eyes stung with mortifying dampness and her cheeks blazed with heat. If the marquess had not had his arm around her waist, her legs would have given out from beneath her. “You are mistaken, my lord.”
“No, it is you who are mistaken. He has you under his spell, just as he does every female. He will only use you then discard you in the end.”
Montfort tensed like a stretched bow, ready to fire. She placed her hand atop his to keep him from striking.
“If you are wise, Archbite,” he said through clenched teeth, “you will leave before I do something you will most assuredly regret.” His voice was soft, but not gentle by any means. It shattered around them like the deadly hiss of a striking cobra.
“No! We had an understanding!”
“Leave. Now.”
Montfort clasped his fingers beneath her elbow to escort her away but she held firm. She couldn’t let it end like this. She had to set things right. She was the one to blame. She had led Percy to believe that she would consider his offer of marriage, if only he was patient. If only he gave her time. But David had given her no choice.
She should have talked to Percy before. Made him understand. But she’d been so consumed by her own fears, she hadn’t even considered Lord Archbite’s feelings.
“It’s too late, my lord,” she said, taking a step toward Percy. Montfort stepped with her. “The decision is already made.”
“Surely you don’t mean to marry him?”
“I do.”
“No!”
Without warning, Percy lunged toward Montfort.
Montfort turned her away to push her behind him, but the time he used to protect her gave Percy the advantage he needed. Before Montfort could right himself, Percy’s fist connected with his jaw, hitting his chin with a bone cracking jolt that jerked his head to the side.
“No!”
She stepped between them and grasped her fingers around Montfort’s upper arms to hold him back. He was the one she knew could do the most damage. He was the biggest threat. “Please,” she whispered, not caring that she had tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please,” she whispered again. She lifted her gaze to his. “The fault is mine.”
His nostrils flared with fury, his lips pressed so tightly they were white. His breaths came in harsh, ragged jerks. She knew that only the thinnest thread held his rage from exploding. “Please, leave it be,” she pleaded. “Everyone is watching.”
He stared at her for long, tension-filled moments, the fury that raged inside him evident to her. His muscles bunched beneath her hands and she knew how desperately he wanted to hurt the Earl of Archbite. Knew how deeply Percy’s words had cut.
“Please…”
She sensed the moment he capitulated, the moment he gave in to her. He breathed in deeply, then released the air in an agonizing whoosh. His gaze lifted from her face to Archbite’s, where hatred and bitterness hung between them like a heavy fog. Without a word, the marquess grasped her arm and turned her toward the waiting carriage.
Just when she thought the scene was over, Percy stepped in front of them, barring their exit. “We will settle this tomorrow morning. In the meadow behind Miller’s pond.”
The marquess nodded. “As you wish. The Marquess of Chardwell will act as my second. Your man can reach him at his townhouse.”
Allison let Montfort lead her to their carriage and hand her in. In one swift move, he climbed the step and sat down beside her. The carriage lurched forward but he did not look back. He kept his gaze focused straight ahead while they moved toward the park’s nearest exit.
“What did Lord Archbite mean when he said you’d settle this in the morning?“
“Nothing.”
Allison sat back in the seat, trying to calm her roiling stomach. And then she knew. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to escape. “No! You’re going to duel tomorrow. You can’t!”
“Why not, my lady? You don’t think you’re worth fighting over?” His voice was calm and steady, but he avoided her gaze.
“No! I’m not worth the death of either one of you.”
“I was not the one who issued the challenge.”
“Then be the one to ignore it.”
“I already ignored Archbite’s first challenge because you asked me to. You have no idea what that cost me.”
She stared at him a long moment, remembering how she’d pleaded with him not to fight Percy. “Don’t go. Just stay away.”
His brows arched high. “And be known as a coward as well as a philanderer?”
“It is better to be a living coward than a dead fool.”
“Are you sure, my lady? Are you sure you could be content with a coward for a husband? Perhaps it isn’t me you’re concerned with. But Lord Archbite? Perhaps you are more afraid some danger might befall him?”
For the third time since she’d met him, she wanted to slap him. Her hand lifted of its own volition, but as quickly as she moved, his arm reached out to stop her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist in a deadly grip.
“I’ve been attacked enough today. I don’t need you added to the long list of enemies who want to do me harm.”
“Please—“
“Quiet.” His voice was not loud as much as the tone was deadly. “Spend your time preparing for your wedding, my lady. I know you will not wish to do overly much to celebrate the event, but I imagine you will at least want to drape the windows in black. You will hear soon enough if Archbite’s bullet hits its mark and you have real cause to celebrate.”
She felt as if he’d buried a knife deep inside her. “I don’t wish to see you harmed.”
He looked at her and smiled, but it was not a smile of happiness. Far from it.
+++
How the hell had he gotten to this point?
Joshua stepped into the carriage after escorting Allison home and sank against the cushion. In less than two weeks’ time he’d gone from being a carefree bachelor who had an allowance that covered his earthly needs and a mistress who saw to the more important essentials to...this!
Bloody hell!
The battle to fight his father’s hatred was ending in defeat!
He’d narrowly escaped losing his beloved Graystone!
Nights spent with his long-time mistress were a thing of the past!
The woman he’d asked to marry him didn’t want him as her husband!
There was a good chance he wouldn’t survive the duel he was fighting in the morning!
And he only had a few days more of freedom left and he’d be leg-shackled forever!
If he lived that long. If dear Percy, Lord Archbite, didn’t put a bullet through his heart and kill him!
He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, couldn’t believe he was taking a wife. Couldn’t believe he’d actually signed an agreement that he’d never seek his pleasures in any bed other than his wife’s. Couldn’t believe he was fighting a duel. But what choice did he have?
He’d do anything to save Graystone, agree to anything to keep from losing it.
He closed his eyes and fisted his hands at his side while he considered the most important question he was unable to answer. Why did his father hate him so much he’d gamble away everything rather than allow him to inherit it?
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find an answer that made sense. Now, Joshua was forced to do everything in his power to save the Ashbury holding, especially Graystone—unless, of course, Archbite killed him in the morning. Then it wouldn’t matter if he lost it all.
He wanted to blame Allison for everything that had happened. She had, after all, demanded that he give up his former way of life. But he couldn’t blame her for that. She was as much a victim as he. She didn’t want to marry any more than he did.
Yet, what choice did either of them have?
Joshua dismounted when he reached his townhouse and climbed the stairs. He had to get a good night’s sleep so he’d be alert enough in the morning to dodge Archbite’
s bullet.
Or prepared enough to meet his Maker.
Chapter 7
She had to stop them before it was too late.
Allison stared out the carriage window as it made its way to the small body of water known as Miller’s Pond. It wasn’t dawn yet, but it wouldn’t be long and the sun would begin its ascent over the horizon.
In her mind, she heard shots, saw blood, and felt the pain as if it were her own. Montfort could die, and it would be her fault. She knew if that happened, her world would never be the same.
Her head throbbed from worry and lack of sleep, and her throat felt thick with panic. She clutched her arms around her middle and rocked back and forth in the plush leather seat of David’s carriage, praying the driver would make the horses go faster. What if she didn’t get there in time?
“Hurry, Benson,” she yelled at the groomsman she’d roused from bed before first light. Although at first he’d been reluctant to drive her halfway across town unescorted, she’d given him no choice. Now, she was afraid all her efforts had been for naught. What if she was too late?
Foolish, stupid men. She couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let them fight over her.
Her skin turned cold and clammy, her teeth chattered uncontrollably. The weight of her guilt nearly suffocated her. She knew she would never be able to live with herself if she didn’t reach them in time to stop the duel from happening.
“Hurry! Are you sure you know where it is?”
“Yes, my lady. We’re almost there.”
She scooted to the edge of her seat and looked out the window again. The sun was now clearly visible in the sky, bright rays streaming through the carriage window. Benson followed a sharp curve to the right, then slowed.
“We’re here, my lady.”
Before the carriage came to a complete stop, she had the door open. She jumped to the ground.
A large crowd had already gathered, no doubt to watch the excitement. She clutched her hand to her aching stomach and fought the urge to be ill.
“Do you see Lord Montfort?” She frantically scanned the area.
“Over by that copse of trees, my lady.” Benson pointed to his right. “But you shouldn’t be here. Lord Hartley will be furious if he finds out. And you all alone. We should have at least brought Emma with us.”
Allison ignored his protests and looked to where he’d pointed.
They stood like little toy soldiers, the marquess’s towering frame unmistakable even from this distance. He faced Lord Archbite, perhaps forty paces separating them. Before she could feel a sense of relief, her gaze focused on a third man standing between them. The man raised his arm and at the same time, Lord Archbite and Lord Montfort raised theirs. A white flag hung almost perfectly still from the man’s fingertips, then slowly, as if in slow motion, it fluttered to the ground.
“No!” she screamed as she ran across the grass and into their line of fire.
Joshua stood in the early morning haze and waited for the sun to rise high enough in the sky so they could get this over. What a turn his life had taken since he’d met her.
He looked to where Archbite stood with Baron Fitzwater, his second, and wondered how this would all end. If the lady they were dueling over cared. Or if she secretly hoped for a certain outcome. Joshua released an angry breath.
They were both of them excellent shots, Archbite known for his daring and his accuracy. Today could go either way.
“Watch your back,” Chardwell warned. He picked up the pistol Joshua was to use to examine it. “Archbite doesn’t have a reputation for letting the flag hit the ground before he fires his first shot.”
“So I’ve heard.” Joshua unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone to this extreme,” Chardwell said. “Who would believe the Earl of Archbite would be willing to risk his life for someone wearing a skirt. Everyone knows his preference runs to young lads in breeches. Do you really think he’s serious about offering for her?”
He tossed his jacket into Chardwell’s waiting arms. “He’s serious.”
“Why?”
“Pressure from his dear mother, the countess. Archbite’s older than me by a few years. I suspect he’s been ordered to find a suitable wife and produce an heir. I think my betrothed showed him just the right amount of encouragement to seal her fate. And now he wants her.”
Chardwell looped Joshua’s jacket over his arm. “And we both know that what dear Percy wants, dear Percy gets.”
“Yes,” Joshua mumbled beneath his breath. “But he’ll not get her. Even if I’m not around to stop him, her brother will see to that. Hartley knows what Archbite’s about.”
Joshua methodically rolled the sleeves of his white lawn shirt to his elbows, then breathed in a deep breath. One he knew could be his last. He didn’t know why, but things didn’t feel right today. There was an air of uncertainty that wouldn’t go away.
“If things go for the worst today—“
“They won’t, Montfort.”
“If they do,” he continued, taking the pistol from Chardwell’s hand. “Keep a watch on her, would you?”
“You know I will. But there won’t be—“
“Just don’t let him have her.” He cast a glance over to where the Earl of Archbite stood, stretching like a cougar about to pounce. “I don’t want him to touch her.”
“He won’t.”
Joshua scanned the gathering crowd, then focused on where Archbite stood. “It looks like they’re ready. Fitzwater is coming to issue the last instructions.”
Fitzwater strode across the meadow, his cocky walk filled with overconfidence. He bowed elegantly when he arrived. “Lord Archbite has most graciously agreed to forget this entire misunderstanding, Montfort, if you will agree to drop your intentions to marry Lady Allison.”
Joshua let a lethal smile lift the corners of his mouth. “How magnanimous.”
“He is also willing to make it worth your while. Say, fifty thousand pounds.”
Joshua’s eyebrows shot high and he turned his gaze to Chardwell’s shocked expression.
“Lord Archbite has placed quite a value on my betrothed. I’m impressed.”
Fitzwater smiled. “Lord Archbite appreciates Lady Allison’s exemplary qualities. She will of course make him the perfect countess.”
“Of course.” Joshua crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels as if he was truly considering the offer.
Fitzwater gave him a few more minutes before he lost patience. “Is there a reply you wish me to take to Lord Archbite?”
Joshua dropped his hands and stepped closer to Fitzwater. “Yes. You can ask Lord Archbite if he prefers a bullet to the heart for a quick and easy death, or one to the gut. I think I prefer to lodge my bullet in his gut. I am told the victim’s pain is excruciating.”
Fitzwater breathed a repulsed “hrumph”, then spun on his heel and left. Joshua doubted the messenger would relate the message verbatim. More’s the pity.
“Fifty thousand pounds.” Chardwell followed his words with a low whistle. “Archbite must really want her. I wonder if your intended realizes how valuable she is.”
He wanted to laugh. “Knowing her as I do, I doubt she would be impressed to know she was measured in monetary value. I think she is hoping to be valued for something less—calculating.”
Chardwell started to laugh, but his laugh was cut off when Fitzwater stepped forward. “They’re ready, Montfort.”
Joshua looked, then nodded.
Chardwell clasped him on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for you here. And remember what I said. Watch Archbite’s hand. Don’t concentrate on the flag. He won’t wait for it to hit the ground.”
Joshua gave him a broad smile, trying to shake the feeling that something was not as it should be. This was not the first duel he’d ever fought; there’d been others. But they’d been mostly for show. No one had ever died. None of his other challengers had ever wanted
him dead. Not like the Earl of Archbite intended so he could claim his betrothed.
A cold shiver raced up and down his spine and he knew it was not the early morning coolness that was the cause of such a chill. He looked around the small glade before stepping into place, noticing nothing unusual.
A medium-sized crowd had gathered. Not out of the ordinary considering all the attention their argument had garnered yesterday. Or the wagers placed on the outcome at White’s.
A black carriage pulled up at the outskirts of the crowd and a well-dressed female disembarked. Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. Some females had a taste for blood as great as a man’s.
“Ready,” Fitzwater announced from a safe distance to the side of them. “You may fire when the flag hits the ground. Not before.”
Joshua let his gaze concentrate on his opponent. Archbite’s eyes were nothing more than narrow slits, his mouth pursed in a thin, angry line. His nostrils flared like those of a fire-breathing dragon. The hatred emanating from him was alive and palpable, the loathing and jealousy as deadly as a cancer-eating sickness. Archbite had no intention of losing, had no intention of letting Joshua make Allison his wife. And he would play by whatever rules were necessary to win.
Every nerve and muscle in his body stretched taut. If ever there was a reason to come out the victor, the reason stood before him. How could he give Allison over to that cur?
Fitzwater raised his arm, the white flag clutched between his fingers. Archbite followed suit, holding his pistol out, steady and straight.
Joshua did the same, never losing sight of the pistol aimed at the center of his chest. Never taking his eyes off Archbite’s finger resting on the trigger.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Fitzwater release the flag, saw the white cloth flutter downward.
He tightened his grip and squeezed ever so gently. And stopped.
A feminine voice echoed in his ears. A voice filled with terror and panic.
Blood thundered in his head.
