Scandal's Child

by Sherrill Bodine

  “Which is precisely why I am using such restraint. I’ve always understood you, haven’t I, Jacko?”

  “Always,” he grinned, pinching her cheek. “That’s why I stayed away from you at the ball, Kat. Knew you’d sense something was up.”

  “Yes, well, now I must just help you get ready for this.” She sprang to her feet, taking his glass from where it dangled in his fingers. “Let me pour you another brandy, Jacko. And if you don’t mind, I’ll have one myself.”

  “A brandy for you? Saville teach you the pleasure of a good tipple, Kat?” Jacko essayed a smile.

  “Yes, Jules has taught me much … Did you hear something in the hall, Jacko? I hope Jules has not followed me here,” she feigned alarm.

  Her twin went to the door to peer out into the hall. In that moment Kat poured the entire vial of laudanum into his brandy.

  “No one there,” he said, turning back to take the glass from her fingers and sit down again beside her.

  Kat held her breath, taking one small sip of brandy. It burned all the way down. How could men tip it down their throats so easily as Jacko was doing?

  “Will you promise me to remember everything I’ve told you about firing,” Kat asked, carefully watching his flushed face.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else all night,” he admitted ruefully, taking another deep drink, draining the glass. “I’m not really that bad a shot, am I, Kat?”

  “Well, I…” she began in a slightly lower tone, but stopped when he yawned, blinking his eyes.

  “What was I saying?” he inquired, a funny little frown on his face. “Mind wandering. Thinking about our target practice in France. Caroline saying it didn’t matter…”

  “What about Caroline?” Kat dropped her voice to a whisper, her heart thumping as his lids began to droop over his eyes.

  “Funny about Caroline … somehow always thinking about the minx…” Shaking his head, he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Don’t know what…”

  Forcing his lids open, he stared at her and she saw understanding radically alter his face into a hard incredulous mask. “Kat … what have…?” Unable to keep himself upright, Jacko suddenly crumpled to the bed behind him.

  Kat bit hard on her lower lip to stop it trembling as hot aching tears burned her eyes. Brushing his curls back, she pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jacko, but I couldn’t let you be killed. At least I will have a chance,” she whispered.

  Drying her tears with an edge of the coverlet, she scrambled to her feet and began to unbutton her dress. She must hurry. The Scotland Road was on the other side of the city and she had no idea how far north the Four Feathers was located, but somehow she would find it.

  Twenty minutes later, Kat stood in front of the mirror, twisting every which way. Jacko’s buckskins were tight, but they would do. She slipped a vest over the lawn shirt before pulling on his coat. She’d have to keep the vest on during the duel to conceal the swell of her breasts. She had to pull this deception off. No one could ever know.

  There was only one last thing that must be done. She pulled the pins from her hair and it fell heavily about her shoulders.

  She hoped Jules would not mind, too much, having a wife who resembled a boy. Oh Jules! Would they ever have their night of love that he had so sweetly promised?

  Steadfastly, she pushed all thoughts of Jules away. If he knew about the duel he might challenge Trigge himself. There was a nagging worry of doubt in the back of her mind that his sudden and urgent business might have something to do with this duel. But how could he know?

  She mustn’t think about that now. She must concentrate on protecting Jacko and Jules, by getting rid of Sir Edmund. Jacko was sure to be killed in any confrontation with that monster, and Jules’s blind eye would surely hamper him in a duel. She couldn’t take any chance that harm might come to either one of them. She loved her twin as if he were an extension of herself. But her feelings for Jules were entirely different—that love was so newly discovered, so precious, she could hardly bear to think of it, to think of all she was risking. With a sinking heart, she only hoped he would be able to understand.

  Taking a bunch of her hair, she lifted the scissors, closed her eyes and snipped. In a surprisingly short time blond curls covered the floor at her feet. Running her fingers through what was left of her hair, she fluffed it around her face. This was the best she could do. Snatching up Jacko’s hat she rammed it on her head and looked.

  Her brother’s countenance stared back at her from the mirror.

  Quickly she let herself out before she could change her mind. She must hurry if she was to find the Four Feathers in time.

  The clock was ticking down and Jules had not unearthed Trigge. He had prowled through every faro house, gaming hell, and bagnio he could think of, but no Trigge. Discreet questioning had added not a clue. Mrs. Cathage had been ingratiating, but no assistance; after challenging Jacko, she said Trigge had simply disappeared.

  But he would have to surface in the field beyond the Four Feathers at dawn to meet Jacko. However, unbeknownst to Trigge there would be a change of plans. Jules would face him at dawn, not Kat’s impetuous twin.

  He must protect Kat from all this. If she knew Jacko was in danger she would be sick with worry.

  She need never know, he consoled himself. He would dispatch Trigge in a few hours. He couldn’t conceive there would be one cry of protest to the crown; this earth would be better off without the blighter.

  Then he would return to Kat and sweep her off for their night of love. It didn’t matter if their night began before breakfast. Funny, even through his outrage he ached for her.

  Jacko refused to answer Jules’s knocks that steadily escalated into noisy banging. He couldn’t be gone already, Jules hoped. He took two steps back, preparing to break down the damn door when Jacko’s valet appeared at the end of the hall.

  Holding a candle before him, he hurried forward. “Monsieur le Comte, is something wrong?”

  “Yes! Open Lord Thistlewait’s door. I must see him on urgent family business,” Jules commanded and was immediately obeyed. The room was lit by a single guttering candle, showing Jacko sprawled across the bed.

  “Leave us!” Jules ordered and the door was immediately closed.

  “Good god, Jacko, how can you sleep at a time like this!” Jules stormed, stalking to the bed. He bent to shake his shoulder. The moment he saw how deeply Jacko slept he knew something was very wrong.

  He glanced around the room. The cloak and dress neatly draped over the chair stopped his heart, his blood running cold through every fiber of his body. Surely not! Kat wouldn’t—

  Taking a long breath into his strained lungs, he walked forward, touched the gown, and forced himself to accept the outrageous idea that had struck him. Kat’s perfume still clung to the fabric.

  “No,” he growled, shaking his head, rejecting his thoughts. Then he saw her beautiful long hair littering the floor in front of the mirror. That discovery drove all doubt away. Kat would!

  Once he had believed no pain could ever be greater than the night his mother, in her drunkenness, mistook him for his late father and drove Charles Crawford to murder and suicide. That night he had lost his eye. The aftermath had shattered his life, Dominic’s world. It had taken more than ten years to heal those wounds. But, finally, the brothers had come to understand and accept that they bore no blame.

  That pain was as nothing to the icy fear that washed over him, drowning him in terror for Kat. She was taking her twin’s place on the dueling field. His Kat would be facing a murderer and a cheat across forty paces of mist-shrouded earth.

  “No!” he raged, striding to the door to fling it open. Jacko’s valet hovered nervously in the hallway.

  “Wake Lord Thistlewait as soon as you can. Tell him all is well, but he must get to Culte
r House as soon as possible,” Jules ordered.

  Fortunately Noir was fresh and eager, as always, for a gallop. The horse surged forward under Jules’s heels, clattering loudly through the sleeping London streets. The Four Feathers was well north on the Scotland Road, Jules knew, and, already, the sky was more gray than black.

  Icy terror drove him forward, numbing his mind and his heart. He had only just found true contentment—love and joy with Kat. If anything happened to her, his life would, again, be meaningless.

  The postboy at the second inn she stopped at knew the Four Feathers and gave her directions. Kat arrived in the yard just as the sun was sending its first feeble rays through the early morning mist.

  Sliding off Jacko’s horse, she threw the reins to a postboy, and gazed around. Surely a duel couldn’t be conducted in the Four Feathers stableyard?

  Movement in the field north of the inn drew her attention. Slowly striding forward, taking exaggerated steps, trying to walk as much like Jacko as possible—although it was difficult in his Hessians even stuffed with stockings—she saw two groups waiting. No one paid her any notice.

  Trigge was standing with a man she didn’t recognize. His second, obviously not a gentleman.

  Nearby, Glady talked with an older man who carried a black bag. A physician, Kat realized. The enormity of her situation, which she had ruthlessly banished, seeped back into her mind. Her insides were churning. Fear might mean discovery. Besides she couldn’t disgrace her twin. She thrust up her chin. She must remain calm and aim as if at a target. Although she had no intention of killing Trigge, she did mean to aim at his shooting hand so it would be a long time, if ever, before he could issue another challenge.

  Spying her, Glady rushed forward. Quickly, she turned her head as if surveying the field.

  “Jacko, we’ve been waiting for you. Are you all right?”

  Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Kat could see Glady looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and his face haggard.

  “You look like the devil,” Kat mumbled gruffly and moved away.

  “I know,” Glady gasped, keeping up with her. “Got drunk as a skunk worrying about you. My valet pulled me together and put me on a horse. Still a bit blurry-eyed, Jacko.” Suddenly, he grabbed Kat’s arm, but she pulled away as unobtrusively as possible.

  “Jacko, don’t do this, old boy!” Glady pleaded, desperation filling his young face. “Give the word and I’ll stop it somehow.”

  Tempted almost beyond reason, Kat paused and looked over at Sir Edmund Trigge. He appeared coolly comfortable. He had already shed his coat and stood waiting in his lawn shirt. His face sported a smug smile.

  This man had promised to get even with her and Jacko and Jules. She knew his threats were not idle. This might be her only chance to keep them all from further harm. She shook her head in a final denial and moved to her spot, slipping out of her coat.

  “Here is your pistol. Me and Trigge’s second have already checked them,” Glady said dully. “I’m to count off the paces. But be careful Jacko, I don’t trust the man. If he tries to take advantage I’ll yell—and you, dammit, will drop to the ground to protect yourself.”

  Kat nodded absently as she weighed the pistol in her hand, checking its balance. These were the pistols she and Jacko had learned to shoot with. An odd pastime for a girl, perhaps, but as children the Thistlewait offspring had had to find their own diversions. They had been shunned by their peers until Willy sailed into their lives, informing their father she would take them all in hand. And she had! Dearest Willy. If Kat survived this she would tell Willy how much she loved her, how well she had stood as mother to them all.

  Kat stepped forward, but Glady stopped her. “What are you doing, Jacko? Remove that vest at once and the hat. They’ll give him too much of a target.”

  The vest must stay to prevent her exposure, but Kat slowly removed the hat.

  Although Glady wrinkled his brow, studying her, he didn’t seem to recognize her. She knew he would never, in his wildest dreams, think Kat would take Jacko’s place. For an instant, she could hardly believe it herself.

  Trigge waited for her, joking with his second. Obviously he had been through this many times before. She had no choice. Slowly, she came face-to-face with him, taking one long look at his malevolence.

  They stood back-to-back, their pistols raised over their right shoulders.

  “Gentlemen, at my signal you shall take twenty paces forward and then turn and fire,” Glady stated flatly.

  Blood roared in Kat’s ears, but she strained, concentrating on his words. She and Jacko had played at this as children. Jacko … no matter what happens you’re safe … The hilt of the pistol slid a little in her damp palm, but she only wrapped her fingers more tightly around it. She had so much to live for. Jules—I love you.

  She wouldn’t allow anything to defeat her. Certainly not a bounder like Sir Edmund Trigge.

  “Now!” Trigge’s second barked.

  Glady began. “One…”

  Kat stepped forward, her mind empty of everything except his voice.

  “Two…”

  The Four Feathers finally loomed into view but Jules galloped right past it to the north field. Silhouetted against the trees he saw the drama being played out.

  “Oh, God, no,” he breathed, close enough now to realize the duel was beginning.

  “Please, Kat, please . .” he prayed. Digging his heels into a winded Noir he raced forward. He had to stop them! He was close enough now to shout!

  But his desperate cry was drowned out by a crack. Only one shot had been fired!

  Chapter 14

  The sound reverberated in Jules’s mind … shot … Kat … shot … Kat … He flung himself off Noir and ran across to where one duelist had crumpled to the ground. In the half light he could not distinguish who it was.

  “Please, no…” he breathed, his chest aching as if it were he who had been shot.

  Three men hovered over the injured party.

  “Saville, what are you doing here?” Glady gasped, before Jules shoved him aside. He fell to his knees beside the doctor.

  It was Trigge.

  Of a sudden he could breathe again. His head swiveled to where Kat stood; unbelievably she was all right. He didn’t dare go to her, he would give the whole game away. Instead he concentrated on the villain before him.

  Trigge’s eyes were closed, his face devoid of all color and his right hand hung helplessly, bleeding profusely.

  “Didn’t know Jacko had it in him,” Glady suddenly muttered from behind Jules’s shoulder.

  Slowly, Jules rose to his feet. Stepping away, he turned and looked across the forty paces.

  Still Kat had not moved; she stood, the pistol smoking in her hand as morning mist swirled around her.

  Even from this distance he could see her start of recognition when she saw him. She took one tentative step toward him.

  “Stay there! I’ll handle this!” he commanded harshly. His tone caused her to draw back sharply and turn away.

  God, didn’t she understand! He wanted nothing more than to go to her, gather her in his arms and never let her go!

  His relief , that she was alive was boundless, unlike anything he’d ever known. But he must keep up the pretense that she was Jacko before these men. Soon, very soon, he would show her in every way just what she meant to him. But first, he must deal with Trigge.

  Swinging back, he saw Sir Edmund was now sitting up with the help of his second. Some color had returned to his face.

  “He’ll live,” the doctor nodded, wrapping his hand with strips of gauze.

  “But only for a few more minutes,” Jules said calmly.

  His words brought four pairs of eyes up to stare at him. Slowly, Jules peeled off one riding glove and, leaning over, slapped S
ir Edmund’s pale cheek.

  “Sir, what are you doing!” Trigge’s second sputtered.

  “Prepare Sir Edmund’s pistol! We duel now!” he ordered.

  Jules saw fear slowly enter Trigge’s suddenly alert eyes.

  “You’re mad, Saville! My right hand is ruined,” Trigge moaned. “I can’t fight you.”

  “It has always seemed your fondest wish to get me on the dueling field,” Jules said pleasantly. “Now you have succeeded.” He flicked a look to the second. “I repeat, load the pistols!”

  “Sir, I must protest,” the doctor interjected, rising to face Jules. “This man is in no condition to duel. That hand may never mend properly. It would be tantamount to murder.”

  “It is tantamount to ridding the world of vermin!” Kneeling, Jules stared into Trigge’s bloodless countenance. “I warned you. Now it is too late. How does it feel to know you face your doom, Trigge? This is what your helpless victims endured.” Rising, he glared down at the man who would have taken Kat’s life without a thought. That brought fresh rage. “You have two minutes, then I shoot you where you lie!” Jules bit out, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “No, no, wait, Saville,” Sir Edmund pleaded, struggling to his feet. “I’ll leave England. Go to the Continent. You’ll never see me again. I give my word.”

  “Your word means nothing!” Jules laughed harshly. “You have one minute, Trigge.”

  His pallid eyes searched wildly around. “My God, someone do something! You can’t let him just shoot me in cold blood!”

  “Saville, old boy, just not done you know,” Glady offered quietly. “Not worth it to be sent into exile. Let him go. I’ll see him to the coast and make sure he boards a ship.”

  “I, too, shall accompany them,” the doctor informed him. “My patient shall require my attention until then.”

  Jules stood for a long time considering. His desire for Kat, greater than that for revenge, won out.

  “Your miserable life is spared, Trigge!” Jules growled, stepping away. “But get him out of my sight quickly before I change my mind!”