He caught her at the farthest end of the long corridor. She turned and pressed her back against the dark wood of the doors, which she thought might be the master bedroom, since these were the only double doors on the second floor.
“Good guess,” he said, then he tumbled them both into the room and toward the bed.
The room was the size of a ballroom, with high arched ceilings painted with a fresco of angels. The walls were painted a sky blue, enhancing the brightness from a wall of windows that faced south. The sitting area was large enough for three sofas and too many chairs to count. The bed was a four-poster monstrosity of blond wood and flanked between bay windows so tall she could imagine the room turned into a sunroom by midday.
When they tumbled onto the bed she felt his hardness against her thigh. “Don’t you have to be rushing out of here to see Tristan?”
“I need another reminder”—he released the buttons on her trousers and yanked them below her hips, which she aided by lifting her rear off the bed—“of exactly what I’ll be missing.”
She threw her head back and surrendered to the intimacy they had been flirting toward since the moment they were awake for the day.
“I’ll miss you just as much.” There was no telling if he’d be gone a few days or for a whole week. “I suggest you make love to me without delay, because I’ll need a reminder, too.”
Hayden didn’t disappoint, and they did spend a number of hours locked up in the master bedroom together.
When Jessica awoke late in the afternoon, Hayden was already gone. She stretched out on the bed, her hand hitting a folded piece of paper as she loudly yawned her greeting to midday.
Darling,
I had your dress pressed and hung in the dressing room, which is to the right of the master bedroom. The house is yours to explore, and the staff will help you with anything you are in need of.
I hope this task doesn’t take me away for too long. I will miss you. And I cannot wait till we are wedded so I can call you wife.
With all my love,
Hayden
Jessica found her dress precisely where he said it was and resolved to learn as much about the house today as she could. She’d need something to keep her mind off Hayden. She thought perhaps she should pen him a note and send it to Hailey Court—and discarded the idea just as quickly. No, that would leave Tristan wondering why she was writing to Hayden at all. She could wait a few days to see Hayden again, and then they would both give their friends the news of their engagement.
Chapter 23
Our fair marquess has been maimed by his challenger. Can you believe such a thing in this day and age? Though it’s still a mystery as to who precisely pulled the trigger, and it’s unknown how serious the marquess’s injuries are.
Mayfair Chronicles, August 1846
Jessica’s maid arrived on the second day, with a carriage full of trunks and the last of her possessions. She’d amused herself during that morning by unpacking, even at Louise’s insistence she take to the garden with tea instead. She needed to keep busy, to keep her mind from worrying over Tristan and Hayden. It was tempting to have someone give her directions to Tristan’s estate, but she held herself back from doing that. Hayden would ensure nothing untoward happened. She trusted him implicitly to take care of Tristan.
“Did you have a chance to read the rags before you left London? I’m desperate to know if word got out about the duel.”
“I didn’t, my lady. It’s better you don’t fret.”
“I’m merely worried about the well-being of my friend and was curious what was being said.”
“Let the men take care of their business like the fools they are. Who would dare duel in this day and age?”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, but you’ll recall that it wasn’t Tristan demanding retribution. He’d gladly continue to thumb his nose at Ponsley for the rest of his days.”
“All we can hope is that His Grace can sort out the issues before it comes to a duel. He has a way with words that makes you want to agree to something you might not necessarily agree to.”
That comment had Jessica smiling to herself. He might have the ability over most, but not her; otherwise she’d have agreed to marry him a lot sooner. Her heart ached for him, though. She’d missed him terribly over the past two days, partly because there was little to amuse her time in the country, aside from her thoughts. And her thoughts had only been focused on three things: marriage, Hayden, and the duel. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to catch the scent of his cologne in the master bedroom, but it had long since dissipated.
When Louise cleared her throat, Jessica’s eyes snapped back open. “Warren didn’t stop by the house in my absence?”
“Not once. I’d have told you sooner if he’d picked up the note you left for him.”
And then it dawned on her why that might be. “He must be Ponsley’s second. I can’t think why else he’d not have stopped by, now that Miss Camden has left and can’t act as a buffer between us.”
“That would make sense. You said he was set to marry Lord Ponsley’s daughter, didn’t you?”
“He was.”
She suddenly wondered if Hayden would take his anger out on Warren while she wasn’t around to step in the way, and she realized she didn’t care. Hayden had every right to defend her.
“I just hope Hayden is back soon. I wanted to post the banns this Sunday, but I won’t if he’s not back.” Besides, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to wait another month to be married. She’d discuss that with Hayden upon his return, which she hoped was sooner rather than later; otherwise, she would search him out at Tristan’s estate.
* * *
My darling,
Proceedings and negotiations on the precise weapon for the dueling field have finally come to a conclusion. By the time you receive this letter, it will be two days’ time before the duel comes to pass. I long to have you at my side, and I urge you to join me once again. If you still feel you’ll be a distraction to Tristan, know that you are a more than welcome distraction to me. I will see you in three days should everything wrap up quickly on this end.
I miss you more than words can express.
All my love,
Hayden
Jessica folded the letter and placed it under her pillow, fingering the edge as she closed her eyes. Under different circumstances she’d respond. She could wait a few more days to see him. Though even one more day felt like forever. She missed him more than words could express, too.
* * *
Hayden looked at his watch once again. It was half past four in the morning, and he felt as though he hadn’t slept a wink as he’d strategized with Tristan on what was to be done should he be shot by Ponsley. The likelihood of that happening depended on two varying factors. First, it mattered whether Ponsley wanted to make a widow of his daughter after only a couple of weeks of marriage—Hayden and Tristan hoped that not to be the case. The second factor was just how angry Ponsley was with Tristan for stealing away his only daughter before he could benefit from a political alliance with Warren. Warren did have significant sway over the House of Commons and Warren would use that influence to Ponsley’s benefit when he sat on the side of the Lords once officially taking the seat as the Earl of Fallon.
It was hard to say how this morning would play out, hence the reason Hayden had demanded his own physician attend the duel. Dr. Leonard stood next to the folding table that held the pistols to be used in the duel. He was tall and slight and easily in his mid-fifties. But he was the most capable and trustworthy physician Hayden knew.
The only difficulty Hayden had in the proceedings was facing Warren without physically striking out at him for the undue cruelness he had levied on Jessica. Lashing out as Hayden wished would serve no greater purpose for Tristan, so he stood his ground, considering his friend had a greater dislike of Warren, and for good reason.
While the fog had yet to dissipate and Hayden couldn’t see well beyond thirty pace
s, Warren seemed in a hurry to finish with the proceedings.
“The rules, gentlemen, are simple.” Warren’s voice cut through the still morning like thunder as he turned in Tristan’s direction. “The field of honor was given to you, Castleigh. Ponsley will choose his pistol first.”
“Let’s be sure there is no funny business.” Hayden stepped forward, determined to have his say in this. “The pistols came with you, so Castleigh has every right to choose his firearm first.”
“Do you have a preference?” Warren asked of Ponsley, as though seeking permission to change this one rule.
“Let him have his pick.” Ponsley crossed his arms over his midsection, puffing out his chest like a cock strutting around as if he owned the world. “Castleigh, you’ve been a thorn in my side since your father died. It’s about time I plucked that nuisance free.”
Once Tristan picked his pistol Hayden loaded the little round ball that he knew would be lost in the field behind them. Tristan insisted on leaving his wife’s father unharmed. Though he could not be sure the old man would have the same reticence toward Tristan.
“We’ve agreed on first blood, not death,” Hayden reminded everyone present.
All nodded, including Warren, which seemed to catch Tristan’s attention. “Why are you even here, Warren? You don’t honestly expect me to believe you of all people have been wronged where Ponsley’s daughter is concerned.”
“My business is my own.” Warren seemed unimpressed by the whole situation.
“If it’s your own, then why do you stand here for his honor?” Hayden knew Tristan was only talking because he was stalling.
“She was to be my wife,” Warren said firmly.
“You don’t deserve her.”
When Warren stepped forward as though he’d charge toward Tristan, Hayden moved closer, grabbing his arm and wishing he could do more harm, like plant his fist in Warren’s face. “Stand aside and mete this out as was predetermined.”
Warren relented; pulling away from Hayden, he walked back to Ponsley’s side. To Hayden’s surprise, Warren’s gaze was on Tristan, not Hayden, as he handed the loaded pistol over to Ponsley.
“This is a bloody joke,” Tristan whispered for Hayden alone.
“Just see it to the end and all will be fine.” Hayden prayed again that Ponsley was only here to save face and honor, not to do lasting damage to Tristan. How Hayden would hold back if the latter came true was anyone’s guess.
“Let’s finish this, then. I can’t stand the buildup,” said Tristan.
Hayden looked at Ponsley. “Are you ready?”
Ponsley nodded.
Both gentlemen put their backs together. They were discussing something, but Hayden couldn’t hear their words, so he assumed Tristan was doing whatever he could to delay what was about to happen. They eventually took their steps to distance themselves evenly apart.
Tristan turned to Hayden before he faced the dueling field to ask, “First blood. So if he hits me we’re done here?”
Hayden nodded. “But you will have to take aim and shoot at the same time.”
“Bloody hell,” Tristan said as he turned with the pistol held out. Ponsley was in much the same position, only his hand was a lot steadier.
“Hayden, if I should perhaps be maimed beyond saving…”
“Don’t even think it,” Hayden said, looking past the field and toward the shifting fog around them. “I hear riders; this needs to be finished or we’ll be discovered.”
“We’re on my land.”
“The women?” Hayden asked.
“Shit,” Tristan cursed before calling out to his opponent, “Are you ready, Ponsley?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Hayden stepped away from Tristan and took up his post next to the doctor. Whoever the riders were, and Hayden assumed them to be two very angry women, they were fast approaching. The reports of the pistols were deafening when the shots finally rang out. Hayden watched his friend fall to a kneeling position on the ground.
“Damn that bastard,” Tristan muttered, dropping the pistol before slumping further.
As Hayden moved into action with the doctor one step behind, everything became a flurry of activity: Lady Castleigh came into the clearing, jumping from her still-moving horse to hurry to her husband’s side, Bea not far behind. Warren stepped forward to assist Tristan or pull the women back—Hayden couldn’t tell which.
Please, God, let him not be seriously injured.
As he approached his friend he heard him muttering something. Tristan was talking as he caressed his wife’s face just before he collapsed, taking them both right down to the ground.
“Tristan!” Her shout was hysterical as she tried to shake her husband back to wakefulness. When that didn’t work she tried to pull at his clothes, looking for the wound that had struck him down. She was talking to Tristan, but he did not respond. Turning to Hayden, tears awash in her eyes and running down her face, she said hoarsely, “Help me!”
Bea knelt beside them. “Here, let me help.” Yanking the frock coat from her brother, she freed his arms. When they saw no wound there, Bea turned to Hayden. “Can you see where he’s injured?”
Hayden’s worst suspicion came true when a stain of red grew alarmingly fast over Tristan’s side. Charlotte ripped his shirt open to spread the material. That was when the doctor stepped in, pressing a white towel hard against Tristan’s side to sop up the blood before pulling it away to prod at the raw wound to see how deep the bullet went.
“It’s no more than a grazing,” the doctor announced to everyone’s relief. “Bullet only skidded across his ribs.”
The doctor continued to press the cloth to Tristan’s side, giving Lady Castleigh direction to hold it there as he opened his case.
“Why isn’t he awake?” Charlotte asked.
“Could be the shock,” the doctor said, taking out long strips of linen to tie around Tristan and hold the cloth in place to staunch the flow of blood.
“The blood,” Bea said, pulling Charlotte to her feet to give the doctor room to work on Tristan. “Let the doctor look him over. We’ll be back at the house soon enough—you can fuss over him there.”
Hayden turned to the doctor to ask if he needed his assistance, but the doctor had it under control as he placed a wooden stethoscope against Tristan’s heart and stuck his ear on the other end.
“I’ll leave you with Castleigh while I send off the opponents.” The doctor nodded.
Approaching Warren and Ponsley, Hayden said, “You’re not invited on this land a moment longer. I expect you’ll be on your way now.”
Warren’s expression of concern looked as though it weighed his brow down. “He’ll fare well?”
Was that actual concern Hayden heard in Warren’s voice? “He’ll be better off if he doesn’t see you when he’s conscious again.”
“I’d like to talk to the doctor to ensure he’s fit as a fiddle before we are off.” Warren stood taller, trying to intimidate Hayden, but that would not work.
“Leave, Warren. You’re nothing but an outsider here.” He hoped the words wounded the man deeply, for Hayden knew he was speaking on behalf of Bea, too, who had a long history with the weasel standing before him.
Before he could insist again, Lady Castleigh charged right past him and toward her father like a raging bull.
“What did you think to accomplish?” Hayden cringed at the harshness of her tone.
“You don’t belong on the field of a duel,” Warren responded.
Charlotte turned on Warren, finger pointed threateningly at him. “You will never tell me what to do. Your worth as a decent man was called into question with this little charade.”
Warren didn’t seem bothered by the insult, as he crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I was not the one to call out your husband.”
“She’s right, Adrian.” Bea came forward, her anger just as palatable as Charlotte’s. “You have no honor, so you could never have called
a challenge to begin with. Yet, here you stand as though to prove something.”
“I ought to put you in your place, Beatrice.” Warren’s focus was solely on Bea. “You’ve no right to talk to me as you are. There are things I know.”
“And you’ve no right to step foot on my property without a proper invite. You can hurl as many insults my way as you wish. They no longer have the gravity they once did, because I know you. I know the real you. And you’d do well to hide yourself away from the truth of your vile nature, lest the world find out what sort of man you really are. Leave,” Bea’s demand brooked no argument and Warren backed off, hands in the air, in surrender to her wishes.
Charlotte reached for Hayden’s arm. “Your Grace, will you help my husband into the carriage?”
“Of course.” Hayden left Lady Castleigh to discuss private matters with her father. Tristan was bandaged up enough for the ride back to the house. Hayden lifted his friend’s limp arm over his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. Tristan wasn’t quite lucid, and his head bobbed to the side as he tried to walk where Hayden took him. They eventually made it to the carriage. The doctor rode back to Hailey Court with Lady Castleigh in the carriage. Hayden rode back to the house with Bea in near silence the majority of the way. They had each tied off extra horses to their saddles.
“How did you know we had left so early this morning?” He had to know how they’d even been found.
Bea gave him an all-knowing look. “I like to think I know my brother better than everyone else. He was acting oddly last night at dinner. So I knew something would come of today.”
“You’ll never cease to amaze me, Bea. I’m sorry you had to bear witness to what transpired at all.”
“The only thing you should be sorry for is not telling us when you’d duel. And seriously, why would you let my brother choose pistols? He’s got the worst aim of any gentleman I know.”
The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride Page 28
