Stoner looked from her to Bertram, and she would swear distaste darkened the man’s eyes. But why? He didn’t know Bertram.
‘I’m ’ere to fetch Mr ’awthorne.’
‘Well, this is the last place he would be.’ Bertram was at his haughty and chilly best. ‘Be on your way before I call my servants to throw you out.’
Stoner planted his feet wider, like a bull getting ready to charge. ‘You can do as you think right, Mr Stockton, but I ain’t leavin’ until I’ve searched this ’ouse.’
Bertram yelled over his shoulder. ‘Gordon, get David. I want this servant thrown out. Now.’
In seconds the aged butler and young, strapping footman were in the room. Apprehension ate at Emma as she watched her two servants size up Charles’s one. She knew David wasn’t strong enough and Gordon was too old. She stepped forward to prevent the violence she saw brewing.
‘Stay put, Emma,’ Bertram ordered. ‘Charles Hawthorne’s servant is leaving, and David will see to it.’
She looked at her brother and wondered at his obtuseness. Anyone could see David was outmatched.
‘Yes, sir.’ David stepped forward, his face white but determined.
‘No.’ Emma started to move between the men.
She was too late. In one quick, efficient movement, Stoner drew back his left arm and then punched it forward. His fist connected with David’s jaw. A loud ‘crack’ filled the tiny room. David rocked back on his heels and tumbled to the ground. He sat, looking dazed.
‘Oh, no.’ Emma rushed forward determined this time to put herself between the two men. She faced Stoner. ‘Enough.’
Bertram pushed her out of the way so her knee hit the wooden arm of a chair. She sank onto the cushion with a thump.
‘Get up, man, and hit him back,’ Bertram ordered, hands on hips, his face furious.
David lunged to his feet only to stagger. A cut bisected his chin. Several bloody spots marred his plain blue jacket. His hand went to his face and came away red. Anger turned his blue eyes black. He moved forward.
‘Stop it! Stop it now!’ Emma jumped up, ignoring the flash of pain in her knee. ‘This isn’t worth anyone getting hurt. Stop!’
David took a swing. Stoner ducked and came up with another facer. The footman slumped to the floor.
Emma rushed to him, but stopped when he glared at her out of the eye Stoner hadn’t hit. ‘Gordon, fetch Betty.’ She rounded on Stoner. ‘I said stop this.’
Stoner stepped back, cradling his right hand. ‘He attacked me.’ He looked at Bertram. ‘On orders.’
Emma wrung her hands. The only way to stop this was to do what she didn’t want to do. But there was no other choice.
‘And I will order him again,’ Bertram said, disgust twisting his face.
Emma stared at her brother. Why was he so vehement about this? She knew he didn’t like Charles, but to continue to thrust David against a man of Stoner’s size and capabilities was unpardonable.
She rounded on her brother. ‘And I will order David to stay where he is. This has got to stop, Bertram.’ She turned back to Stoner. ‘He is upstairs. In the servant’s quarters.’
‘What!’ Bertram’s voice was loud enough to carry through the house. ‘What are you saying?’
She blanched but stood her ground. ‘Charles Hawthorne is here.’
Bertram’s mouth fell open. He snapped it shut. His body quivered with anger. ‘Charles Hawthorne is here? Why? What have you done?’
She could not remember ever seeing Bertram this incensed. She notched her chin up. ‘I kidnapped him.’
‘Kidnapped him!’ Bertram advanced on her.
Stoner moved as though to intercept Bertram. Emma glanced at the man and saw determination and apprehension on his face. She shook her head.
Bertram turned on him. ‘How dare you.’
Stoner stood still.
Emma wondered if things could get worse, but doubted it. ‘Mr Hawthorne is tied to the bed, Stoner. I’m sure he will be glad to see you.’
Thankfully her voice was calm. She certainly didn’t feel that way. Her heart pounded so hard, she wondered it didn’t thump out of her chest.
Stoner looked from brother to sister.
‘It will be all right,’ she said softly, realising he was worried about her. ‘Go to the second floor and turn right. He’s in the first room.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Charles Hawthorne’s cold voice came from the doorway.
Emma whipped around and stared. ‘What? How did you—’
‘How did I get loose?’ His smile was like a sharp sword. He extended his wrists. Blood dripped from the abrasions that circled his skin like manacles. ‘I twisted until the stock—bindings loosened enough to pull my hands through.’ He met her gaze. ‘I have a duel to make.’
She marvelled that even now he had managed not to say her stockings. He was protecting her from Bertram’s further censure, for she knew that if Bertram found out she had bound Charles with her intimate garments he would be incensed even beyond what he was now.
Stoner moved to his employer’s side, watching David.
Bertram looked at them. ‘I will be there early. This was not my idea, whatever you might think.’
Charles sneered. ‘I never thought it was. It smacks of too much sense.’
Bertram tensed so he looked drawn up tight by a rope. ‘Get out.’
‘Gladly.’ Charles turned his back on them as though they were nothing and went to the door, where he paused and turned back to them. ‘If you need me, Miss Stockton, send your footman.’
Emma closed her eyes, not sure what she saw in his and not able to deal with anything else. In his offer to protect her, he had added insult to Bertram’s injury.
She turned away as the door closed.
Bertram moved until he was only inches from her, his face puce, his fists clenched. ‘What are you doing? Isn’t it bad enough Amy’s reputation is being jeopardised by that man? Now you have to go and keep him in our house.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That is why you insisted I accompany Amy last night. You weren’t sick. You planned this.’
‘I had to do something.’ Even to her ears, she sounded weak and defensive. ‘I couldn’t let you meet him in a duel.’
The colour left Bertram’s narrow face. ‘You couldn’t! You couldn’t! You are not the one to make that choice, do you hear me? I challenged him and I will meet him. And if you try to stop me, I will tie you to the same bed you bound him to. Do you understand, sister?’
She nodded. Nothing she could say would improve matters. Not only had her kidnapping failed to accomplish her goal, but it had created an even greater rift between her and her only brother.
And the argument had been in front of David, Gordon and the just-arrived Betty. They might be old family retainers, but what had just happened between her and Bertram was ugly. She had insulted Bertram’s manhood, and he had told the entire household that her position was under him. Their dirty laundry was well and truly aired.
Bertram had also been unable to mask his pain at her lack of confidence in him. Hurting him was worse than anything else. When she’d concocted this scheme, she had not thought to get caught and hadn’t even considered how Bertram would feel if it came to light.
What a mess.
It was on the tip of her tongue to beg his forgiveness, but she turned away instead. She had done what she thought best. She was not going to keep apologising.
She closed the parlour door behind Bertram as he stormed from the house and hoped no one would follow. She felt drained and beyond despair. Everything had gone wrong.
Moving to the window so the sun warmed her, she looked outside. She noted with surprise that it was still early afternoon. So much had happened, it felt as thought the entire day had passed.
As she turned away, movement caught her attention.
Charles and Stoner passed by her window on their way home. Charles looked disturbed, his gaze on her house. He said something to the older m
an. Stoner shook his head. The two of them continued on.
For a moment, Emma wondered what they talked about. Then exhaustion hit her. Too much had happened and it had all happened badly.
She pulled a chair to the patch of sunlight and sank down, her knee protesting. She would have a bruise where it had hit the chair arm when Bertram shoved her. It didn’t matter.
Automatically, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Something hot to drink would be nice, but she didn’t have the energy to go to the bell pull. Nor did she want to be disturbed. The hot drink could wait.
She stared outside and wondered what else she could have done. Let the duel go on even knowing Bertram would likely be hurt? Perhaps she should have.
Perhaps she should have trusted Charles. But it was hard for her to trust a man. She had lost count of how many times her father and brother had told her and told Mama they would not gamble, or would not gamble deeply, and then had.
Perhaps it was time she stopped worrying about what they did. Nothing she tried made any difference.
It would be nice not to fret over other people when she could do nothing to stop them or to help them. For once, she would like to do exactly as she pleased.
Her mouth firmed. For once, she would like to enjoy herself.
Chapter Twelve
Charles shivered in the cold predawn air as he glared at Adam Glenfinning. ‘What are you doing here?’
Glenfinning pulled the lapels of his great coat closer to his neck. ‘Good morning to you, too.’
Charles clenched his hands at his sides to keep from landing the fellow a facer. The last person he wanted here was his sister’s new husband. ‘Good morning, Glenfinning. Now you can go.’
Glenfinning cocked his head to one side and studied Charles in the faint grey light of the rising sun. ‘Why do you dislike me so much? To the best of my memory—and I will admit there are things I don’t remember—I have never done anything to you.’
Charles started pacing, all the while keeping his gaze on his brother-in-law. ‘You married my sister.’
Puzzlement rearranged Glenfinning’s fine features. ‘I would think you would like me then, for I believe I have made her as happy as she has made me. I know you love her.’
Charles stopped in midstride and pointed a finger at the other man. ‘You are a rake, Glenfinning. Always were and always will be.’
‘Ah.’ Enlightenment moved over his face even as the rising sun illuminated the stubble and lines of irritation on Charles’s. ‘You think I will be unfaithful to Juliet.’ His jaw hardened. ‘I won’t.’
‘Hah! Once a rake, always a rake.’
‘Speak for yourself, Charles.’ Glenfinning frowned. ‘I am happier with Juliet than I have ever been in my life. I have no intention of doing anything to hurt her or jeopardise the love we have between us.’
Charles twisted away, not satisfied with the reassurance Glenfinning had just given him. In his experience, a man who dallied all his life would continue to do so. That is how he thought he would be. No woman had caught his attention and regard enough for him to forsake all others for her. He had assumed the same would be true for a man of Glenfinning’s reputation. He and his brother-in-law were very similar.
He spun back around. ‘Do you swear that?’
Glenfinning shook his head. ‘You are obstinate. Juliet is as well, so I know the trait runs in your family, or I would feel obliged to challenge you myself—to protect my own honour.’
George Hawthorne strode up to them, looking from one to the other. ‘Charles…’
Charles drew himself up. ‘I had to be sure he treats Juliet well or he will be the next person I meet here.’
Exasperation sharpened George’s voice. ‘You have to stop measuring Adam by his past and your current behaviour.’ George turned to Adam. ‘Has the surgeon arrived yet?’
‘No,’ Adam answered, ‘but I expect him shortly.’
Charles stomped his feet in their practical Wellingtons, looking at Glenfinning. ‘So you are involved in this.’ He gave George an accusing look. ‘And here I thought you were the one who took care of all the details.’
George stared down his younger brother. ‘Adam is part of the family now and wished to be involved. We both figured that if we shared the responsibilities things would go quicker and smoother. The last thing we wanted was for Juliet to learn of this.’
Charles took off his hat and tossed it to the ground in frustration. Everything they said made perfect sense. ‘No telling what she would do.’
‘Exactly.’ Glenfinning and George answered simultaneously. Then both laughed.
Charles watched them with a jaundiced air. The two seemed in good accord, which only irritated Charles more. He didn’t think he could change his behaviour just because he married, he still wasn’t sure Glenfinning would. Even though the man seemed to love Juliet. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could be faithful to one woman even if he loved her.
The image of Emma Stockton formed in his thoughts. She had the look of resigned determination she wore so often. The picture shifted to the defeat that had slumped her shoulders when Bertram had confronted her about the kidnapping. He had nearly told Stoner to wait while he took care of her brother.
That was two days ago and now he was waiting for the idiot, who was late. He should have known this would happen. ‘Has my opponent arrived yet? I don’t see him.’
‘Neither do I.’ George put a hand on Charles’s shoulder. ‘Maybe he won’t.’
‘He’d better,’ Charles said. After all he went through because of this duel, Stockton had better show or he would call the man out.
‘I see carriage lights,’ Adam said.
Charles squinted down the road and saw a closed carriage in the early sunlight. ‘That’s probably the surgeon.’
Minutes later the coach stopped and an older gentleman stepped down. He carried a black bag. ‘I am sorry I’m late.’
‘That’s fine,’ Charles said. ‘You are here ahead of my opponent.’ He did nothing to mask his sarcasm.
The surgeon looked around. ‘I will stay. The rains last night made the road difficult in places. He will likely be late.’
Charles grunted and started pacing. Patience was his weak point. He heard Adam near their carriage and the click as the box that held the matched duelling pistols opened. His brother-in-law was going to make sure they were in operating order. Charles knew they were. He had cleaned and oiled them last night.
He stopped at a tree and wondered how long he should wait. If Stockton didn’t show, it would be no disgrace to Charles. Perhaps it would be better if the man failed to appear. But right this moment, all he wanted was for something to happen.
When he deloped the way he planned, he would be tacitly agreeing that Stockton’s reason for challenging him was correct. While he agreed it was right to a certain extent, his dallying with Amy Stockton had never been to the point that it would truly damage her reputation. No matter what Bertram and Emma Stockton insisted.
The rumble of wheels caught his attention. He twisted around to see another coach. Stockton. Charles wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or glad. Now they would meet, and he would delope. He had promised Emma Stockton he wouldn’t shoot to hit even knowing what his action would imply.
He stepped away from the tree so his opponent would see him. He had a question to ask.
The carriage drew to a halt, and he watched Stockton exit. The man was dressed all in black, even to his shirt and cravat. Stockton was making sure he did not present a target.
Charles sneered as he neared the other man. ‘Before we start this farce, Stockton, I want to know what you did with your sister’s pearls.’
Bertram Stockton’s cheeks glowed but his eyes shot darts. ‘That is none of your business.’ He turned to leave.
Charles shot out his hand and gripped the back of Stockton’s coat and yanked. Stockton stumbled and managed to stay on his feet. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’ Charles po
ised himself.
Stockton sniffed. ‘I needed them, such as they were.’
Charles simmered. ‘Where did you pawn them?’
Stockton looked him up and down. ‘So that is the way the wind blows now. It won’t do you any good. And if you importune Emma, I will challenge you again.’
Charles gritted his teeth. If they weren’t about to duel, he’d land the idiot a facer. ‘Where?’
Stockton’s hazel eyes narrowed. He mentioned a shop. ‘But they will be gone by now.’
‘You are a weasel as well as a coward.’ Charles could barely restrain himself. If only he hadn’t promised this bounder’s sister that he wouldn’t shoot to hit. But he had, so he stood impotently and watched the man walk away. ‘Coward,’ he muttered.
‘A cautious man often lives to see the next day,’ Adam murmured.
Charles scowled at him. ‘Or a coward.’
‘Either one,’ George said, moving between Charles and Stockton. ‘How do you do, Bertram.’
Stockton looked George up and down. ‘Quite well until I saw you.’
Charles marvelled at the man’s idiocy. George was a crack shot.
‘I would think it is Charles who worries you.’ George’s voice was soft, but there was iron beneath it. ‘He always hits what he aims at.’
‘Right is on my side.’ Stockton turned his back to them.
‘Then I wonder why you are dressed all in black,’ Charles said, deciding the man could use a slap.
Stockton ignored him or didn’t hear him.
George moved to Charles’s side. ‘Let it be. He has a right to dislike me—as we both know.’
‘True, but that doesn’t mean I like to see him treat you rudely.’
Adam joined them, looking from one to the other. ‘We have a duel. I have met with Stockton’s second and everything is ready.’
Charles took off his coat to allow better movement. He made a blazing target in his immaculate white linen shirt. He doubted it would matter. Stockton was known as a man who couldn’t hit a wall ten feet away.
Confident he would be home and back in bed shortly, having been up late with his clients, Charles took the pistol from the case Adam held.
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