“Now, wait a minute, Claude,” Byron said with alarm. “It’s one thing to have a duel and pink some unmannerly puppy in the shoul-der, but this is no puppy. This is a marquis, and you can’t treat him as you would an ordinary man.”
Vernay did not answer, but the fixed expression on his face told Byron that he was wasting his time. Still, Byron repeated, “Mind what I say. You can’t challenge this man to a duel.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But if he challenges me, I can certainly accept.”
At the same time these two were talking, Rosa and Colin stood waiting for the opera to begin. The two had become close friends despite their differences. Rosa admired the steadfastness and the hon-esty in Colin that she herself lacked, while Colin admired the peppery qualities of the diva. He did not admire her morals, but he knew that she was a faithful friend when there was no amour involved. Rosa asked, “Did you see the marquis sitting beside Simone d’Or?”
“I saw it,” Colin said grimly. “I didn’t like it.”
“Why should it bother you?”
“She’s not the kind of woman to make my master happy.”
“She’s beautiful and rich and young.”
“She’s also selfish and arrogant and filled up with pride.”
Rosa shook her head. “I suppose she is, but that doesn’t seem to bother the marquis.”
“He’s trying to regain something that was lost forever.”
“And what is that?”
“He loved his first wife more than I ever saw a man love a woman. Simone looks like her, in a way; she’s more beautiful but has the same features and hair. But she’s different. Jeanne de Cuvier was a gentle, sweet woman always ready to show a kindness. I see none of this in Miss d’Or.”
Rosa was silent for a moment, studying her young friend’s face. “I’ve seen something that you haven’t.”
“What’s that, Rosa?”
“For a long time Claude Vernay has been pursing Simone. Do you know him?”
“I met him briefly.”
“He’s a volatile man, always looking for a fight. He’s had more duels than you can count, and he’s killed men. He won’t see another man take Simone d’Or. He’ll kill him first.”
“Why, that’s impossible!”
“No, it’s not. These youngbloods know how to provoke fights. They get someone to insult and challenge them, then they take them out to the oaks and kill them.”
“I can’t believe this. He wouldn’t dare!”
“He was my lover for a short time. I know him. He’s as deadly as a snake. If you have any influence with the marquis, be certain that he never has anything to do with this man.”
“Miss Simone, you have a visitor.”
Simone looked up from her dressing table. Her maid, Lucy, had gone to answer the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s the young man from the opera. The student of the marquis— Mr. Seymour.”
“All right. I’ll see him in the drawing room.” Simone rose from the dressing table, left her bedroom, and went downstairs. She found Colin waiting, and he said at once, “I’m sorry to come without an invitation, Miss d’Or, but I felt I had to see you.”
Simone studied the young man coldly. Since she had found out about his humble origins, she had been unable to show anything other than cool civility. “Would you care to sit down?”
“This will take only a moment, but I had to speak with you privately.”
Simone saw that Colin Seymour was nervous. She also noticed that his dress was not the current style of the young men of New Orleans. He was wearing a pair of fawn-colored trousers, a white shirt, and a rust-colored jacket. He seemed to care little for dress, but she had to admit that there was a rugged handsomeness about the man. His auburn hair caught the sun as it came through the window with just a trace of gold, and he had the bluest, most direct eyes of any man she had ever seen. “What is it, Mr. Seymour?”
“I know this will seem strange, but I wanted to talk to you about the marquis.”
“The marquis? What about him?”
“I think you need to understand him better. You see, he was very much in love with his first wife.”
“He has already told me that, and I must say I cannot see your concern.”
“He has been a friend to me more than any other man. I can’t stand by and watch him make a mistake.”
Simone stared at Seymour, her eyes fixed on his face. “What mis-take is that, sir?”
“He tells me he wants to marry you, and I think—I know that would be a sad mistake.”
Anger touched Simone then, as it often did when she was crossed. “It’s very impertinent of you to interfere in my personal affairs!”
“Please don’t be angry with me, Miss d’Or. The marquis would be ruined if—”
“If he married me?”
“Well, yes. You see, his first wife was a very gentle woman with a sweetness of spirit. You resemble her a great deal physically, but—”
“But I am not sweet and gentle.”
Colin met her gaze evenly. “No, Miss d’Or, you are not sweet, and you are not gentle. You are a woman who has to have a great deal of attention and would not be happy at all leading the life a marchioness leads.”
“I think you may leave, sir!”
“But I haven’t—”
“You have finished. Now, get out of the house!”
Colin walked toward the door. He turned long enough to say, “If you marry him, you will make two people very unhappy. You are not suited.”
“Leave the house, sir, or do I have to call the servants to help you out?”
“No, I can find my way.”
As soon as she heard the door slam, Simone began muttering and pacing. She walked over to the window and saw the tall young man leave. “He’s a boor, an uneducated boor of a fisherman! Who does he think he is, to tell me what to do?”
Claude Vernay was a brooding sort of individual, one who worried over a thought constantly until he could take some sort of action. When he had first heard of the possibility of Simone’s marrying the marquis, he had shrugged it off, but finally he saw that she was becoming more and more attached to the idea, and they had quar-reled over the matter more than once, the most serious being on a muggy July evening. In reality, Simone had grown tired of Claude’s interference and had been influenced by Seymour’s visit. She had disliked the young man intensely before he had come to warn her off from the marriage, and now, without realizing it, she was more receptive to the idea of the marriage because of his visit. She had told Claude Vernay that she probably would marry Armand, and he had grown terribly angry.
He slept little that night and started to drink early the next morning. At two o’clock he stepped into a salon where he saw the Marquis de Cuvier sitting with Enoch Herzhaft, the owner of the opera house. A recklessness came over Vernay, and he walked over and greeted the two men. Herzhaft knew him well and invited him to join them. He sat down and listened as the two men talked of music. Finally the liquor that he had consumed already that morning made him say, “So, Marquis, you are courting my friend Miss d’Or?”
Surprised, Armand stared at the man across from him. He hardly knew him. “I have been seeing Miss d’Or, yes.”
“I think it would be an unfortunate match.”
Armand had a temper of his own, and the man’s words insulted him. “It’s hardly a matter for discussion in public.”
“I suppose it isn’t,” Vernay said. “But I’ve often seen such things turn out badly. A young girl marrying an older man—it never works out.”
“Claude,” Enoch said hastily, “I don’t think—”
“I hardly think it is any of your affair, sir,” the marquis said. “And I would appreciate it if you would leave the table.”
“I’m not good enough to sit with you?”
“You are a boor.”
Claude continued taunting the marquis: “If you weren’t an older man, I would demand satisfaction from you.
”
Enoch Herzhaft was alarmed. He knew Vernay’s reputation. “Claude,” he said, “you’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not drunk, but I know when a foreigner comes over with his European ways and tries to take advantage of a young woman.”
The marquis stood and said, “I will not listen to this!”
Vernay stood also. “You’re after her money, and everyone knows you’re making a fool of yourself.”
The marquis was not accustomed to such talk. He had received respect most of his adult life, and the insult inflamed him. His arm seemed to fly out on its own accord, and he slapped Vernay on the cheek. He said coldly, “There will be no more mention of Miss d’Or in this public place.”
Vernay stared at the marquis. “You have struck me, sir. You can’t take refuge behind your name and your age.”
“I take refuge behind nothing. I challenge you, sir.”
“I’ve never refused a challenge. My man will call on you.”
Vernay turned away, a slight smile on his face. As soon as he left, Enoch Herzhaft jumped to his feet and said, “My lord, you must not fight this man! He is deadly with either a pistol or a sword.”
“My honor demands it.”
“Don’t be foolish! These young men make a game out of it.”
“It’s a matter of honor.”
Herzhaft threw his hands up. “Honor! I’m sick of that word! All that word means to these youngbloods is an excuse to destroy a man of lesser ability.”
“My mind is set. I will ask you to act for me.”
New Orleans had very few secrets, and the story of the proposed duel between the two men aroused everyone’s interest. Whispers were exchanged, bets were made, and Simone, of course, heard of it almost at once. Unfortunately she heard of it from Colin, who again visited her home. He burst into her house, saying, “I beg your pardon, but I must speak to you.”
“I told the servant that I wouldn’t see you.”
“You must see me. The marquis has challenged Vernay to a duel.”
“I know about that.”
“Please, Miss d’Or, you must see now what a dangerous thing this is. You must talk to the marquis.”
Simone shrugged her shoulders. “I cannot interfere in such things.”
“You must!” Colin said loudly. He walked over and took her by the shoulders. “You brought this on, and now it’s up to you to break it off. Vernay is your friend, and the marquis is a man you profess to have some affection for. You must cause them to be reconciled.”
Simone struggled to free herself, but his grip was like iron. “Let me go!” she said. When he did, she glared at him. “I wouldn’t marry a man who would accept an insult. Now get out of my house!”
Colin stared at her. “You’re worse than I thought,” he said quietly. “You’d see a good man butchered because of your pride. I despise you.” Quickly he turned and left the house.
Immediately Simone sent for Vernay, who came within the hour. She said at once, “Claude, you must not fight the marquis.”
Claude said only, “He struck me. You know the answer to that.”
“But he’s an older man, and a powerful one.”
“That’s no excuse. He should have kept his temper. Don’t worry. I won’t kill him. I’ll just teach him a lesson.”
“This is madness, sir! You must not do it!”
“This is no time for you to talk like that, Colin.”
The dawn was beginning to break, and the two men stood on a field in the vicinity of a large oak tree. News of the duel had spread, and many had gathered there. They stood silently, watching the drama unfold before them. Enoch Herzhaft was speaking with Byron Mayhew, who was acting for Vernay. Vernay himself stood off to one side, saying nothing. Beside him stood a tall man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Colin learned later this was another cohort of Vernay’s, a man named Leon Manville.
Colin shivered in the coolness of the morning and could not con-tain himself. “This man has a lifetime of practice. Have you ever even fired a gun?”
“Of course I have,” the marquis replied. “I’ve never had a duel, but I have practiced often enough.”
“What if you kill him? Could you live with that?”
“I will not kill him, I assure you. I’m a better shot than that.”
“But he may kill you.”
“I do not think so. He usually shoots only to bring blood.”
“He has killed,” Colin said. But he had no time to argue further, for a short man in a black suit had moved forward and said, “My lord, if you’re ready.”
Colin watched the marquis march steadfastly to where the tall man stood. Herzhaft moved to stand beside him. His teeth were chat-tering. Neither of the men would budge. “God grant it may not be fatal,” he said quietly.
Colin was silent as he watched as the two men heard the instruc-tions from the duel master and then turn their backs to each another. He watched them as they stepped off ten paces, then turned, and the marquis fired first. He missed, and a coldness clamped around Colin’s heart. Vernay laughed. He leveled his pistol and fired. At the same instant the marquis had turned so that his back was toward the man. The shot caught him in the back and drove him forward, then he collapsed.
“Armand!” Colin cried out, using the marquis’ first name for the first time. He ran to his master and saw the blood spreading on the white shirt. The shot had caught the marquis just above the lower back.
Vernay walked over and asked, “Why did he turn? I intended only to pink him.”
He was shouldered aside by a burly man in a snuff-colored coat. He knelt down and said, “I do not think it is fatal. Can you hear me, Monsieur?”
“I—can’t move my legs.”
A chill ran through Colin, and he said, “It will be all right, won’t it, Doctor?”
The doctor turned and said evenly, “I trust so, but no one is sure of these things. I must have the bullet out. Some of you help me get him inside.”
As they moved the wounded man inside, Colin turned to Vernay. Rage filled him, and he ran at the man and with all of his might struck out. His blow caught Vernay squarely on the chin and knocked him down. At once Mayhew and others of Vernay’s friends seized Colin.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, sir,” Mayhew said.
“If my master dies, I’ll kill him!”
“Don’t be a fool,” Mayhew whispered. “Go see to your master.”
The men released Colin, and he ran to catch up with the doctor. He had never felt such an icy anger in his life. There had been some-thing inhumanely cruel about what had taken place, and he followed the wounded man with a feeling of helplessness.
“I can’t believe it!” Simone exclaimed. “How could he have done such a thing?”
Leon Manville had gone to Simone with the news of the duel, and although he had tried to be gentle, he could see that the young woman was shaken. “I know it’s a terrible shock, Miss d’Or, but it’s not all bad.”
“How can there be anything good in such a thing?”
“The gentleman will not die,” Manville said quickly. “I under-stand that the wound was serious, but not fatal.”
“Well, thank God for that!” Simone said. “Did you see it, Leon?”
“Yes, and I wish I hadn’t. It was not at all a thing that Vernay should be proud of.” Manville had heard that Simone d’Or had some sort of an attachment to the marquis and was as curious as to its nature as the rest of the city. “I trust that you will not let this influence your plans with the marquis.”
Simone hated gossip, and glaring at Leon, she said, “Don’t con-cern yourself with such things. Now, thank you for coming, but I must ask you to leave me.”
Manville made a hasty retreat, and Simone walked nervously around the house, troubled by the news. She was grieved at the inci-dent, but in her heart she knew that she did not love Armand. I wish him well, and a speedy recovery, she thought, but I would never have married him.
Chapt
er five
Dr. Marcus Grigsby proved to be a good friend to Colin and Armand during the recovery period after the duel. The bullet had lodged itself in Armand’s back so close to the spine that Grigsby had been unwill-ing to take a chance on removing it. “If I make the slightest mistake, he will be completely paralyzed,” Grigsby warned Colin. “As it is, his legs are paralyzed, but at least he’ll have the use of his upper body. It’s just not worth the chance.”
Three months had passed since Grigsby had made his pro-nouncement, and October had come. Grisgby arrived at the dock to see the pair off. He stood beside Armand, looking at him with a wor-ried expression, but quickly he smoothed it away and said heartily, “Well, my lord, you are going home again. I know that will be good for you.”
Armand looked up. His features were still, and his eyes showed little sign of life. He had been quiet and listless ever since learning that he would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. “I want to thank you, Doctor,” he said quietly, “for all of your attention.”
“I wish I could do more. Really I do.”
“You’ve done all anybody could do, and I will miss you when I am at home.”
A steam whistle uttered a mighty blast, and Colin said, “It’s time to go on board.”
“Yes. Good-bye, Doctor. Thank you again.”
Colin nodded to a steward, who stepped behind Armand’s chair. “I’ll be on board right away, sir.” Armand nodded briefly, and the steward pushed him up the gangplank. As soon as he was out of hear-ing distance, Colin put his hand out. “Thank you, Dr. Grigsby.”
Grigsby shook the young man’s hand. “It’s one of those cases when I wish I’d become a blacksmith or a stockbroker—anything except a doctor! I hate to give bad news, especially to good men like your master.”
“Any final instructions?”
“I think the problem is twofold. The first is the physical one, of course. That’s obvious. His spine is damaged, and sometimes that causes other damage. We doctors still don’t understand all that goes on inside the body. Just see that he gets all of the exercise he can. Get him to use dumbbells to make his upper body as strong as possible. Keep him outdoors a great deal.” Dr. Grigsby hesitated.
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