~~~~
Eager to explore the town, the Den members did not stay long, but Gareth at least felt reassured that they were there in Abingdon. Chilcot was a fool, the others thought it was all a big adventure, and only Perry seemed to take him seriously. Good old Perry. He knew he could depend on his best friend.
But damn it, where was Lucien?
It was now just past four o'clock, and the fight was scheduled for six. Gareth had expected the duke to come charging in like death on the back of a black horse, but there'd been no note from him, no acknowledgement of the one he'd sent, and worse, no Lucien. Something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.
He went to the window and stared out over the river, his hands in his pockets. In the distance, the pastoral hills off toward Culham, opaque with haze, rose blue-green against the sky.
Come on, Lucien. Where the hell are you?
A sharp knock sounded on the door downstairs. He heard Juliet — who, thank God, had decided the beetroot stains were not worth killing him over — crossing the floor to answer it. A moment later, he heard Becky's distressed voice.
"Gareth!" It was Juliet calling up to him, her voice urgent. "Come quickly!"
He spun on his heel and took the stairs three at a time. In the foyer stood Becky and her younger brother, Tom. Becky looked pale and shaken, her eyes red from crying.
"What's this, now?" he asked, gently putting an arm around the shoulders of each and ushering them into the sitting room. "Sit down and tell me what's wrong."
"Oh, Lord Gareth — Tom's got somethink awful to tell ye!"
And as Tom, rubbing the back of his head, began to speak, it soon became apparent why Lucien had not come. Tom had not even made it out of Abingdon when something — or someone — spooked his horse. He remembered falling, then someone charging up on him in the darkness — and nothing more than that. Next thing he'd known, he opened his eyes to find himself lying in a back street of Oxford, bound, gagged and nursing a headache a hundred times worse than any hangover. It had taken him the better part of the day to free himself and find his way home.
"And what happened to the letter I gave you?" Gareth pressed.
"Gone, m'lord. Me mare was waitin' for me back 'ome, but the saddlebags, they was gone."
Gareth swore and, running a hand through his hair, met Juliet's eyes from across the room. She was as white as the starched mobcap that crowned her glossy curls.
She shook her head very slowly, from side to side. "Gareth, you cannot fight tonight. Someone now knows what you know, and your life could very well be in danger."
"But Juliet, I have to fight."
"No. You do not have to fight."
"There are people coming from all over England! There are thousands of pounds being bet on this! If I don't fight, I shall never live this down, never be able to hold my head up again, because everyone will think I'm a coward — why, we'll have to leave the country, for God's sake!"
Her expression had gone stony. She raised her chin, hugged her arms to herself, and stared defiantly at him from across the room. "Gareth, I beg you not to do this fight."
"Juliet, I beg you to understand."
"There is nothing to understand. Your life is in danger. I do not want you fighting tonight."
Gareth threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Becky and Tom, who read the unspoken message there and beat a hasty exit. And then, changing tactics, Gareth crossed the room to his wife. He slid his hands up her arms, trying to loosen them. She had no more give than a locked door.
"Dearest," he said, leaning down to kiss her brow, her temple, putting a finger beneath her jaw to raise her face to his. He lowered his mouth to hers and found it stiff and unyielding. Angry. "I promise you that nothing shall happen to me tonight."
She tightened her arms, refusing to let him seduce her into agreement. "And I promise you, Gareth, that if you go through with this fight, I'm leaving."
He pulled back, stunned. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I thought you were going to stick by me, support me. Damn it, Juliet, you've been saying all along that you have faith in me; here's your chance to prove it!"
"I'm not staying here to watch you die. I have a little girl to take care of. Go meet the Butcher tonight if you have to, Gareth, but I'll tell you right now that you'll be coming home to an empty house — that is, if you come home at all."
"Juliet!"
"Make your choice, Gareth. Your pride or your family." And with that, she turned on her heel and left him standing there in the middle of the floor.
All alone.
The Wild One Page 71
