A Matter of Choice (11 page)

Foolish, stupid men. She couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let them fight over her.

Her skin turned cold and clammy, her teeth chattered uncontrollably. The weight of her guilt nearly suffocated her. She knew she would never be able to live with herself if she didn’t reach them in time to stop the duel from happening.

“Hurry! Are you sure you know where it is?”

“Yes, my lady. We’re almost there.”

She scooted to the edge of her seat and looked out the window again. The sun was now clearly visible in the sky, bright rays streaming through the carriage window. Benson followed a sharp curve to the right, then slowed.

“We’re here, my lady.”

Before the carriage came to a complete stop, she had the door open. She jumped to the ground.

A large crowd had already gathered, no doubt to watch the excitement. She clutched her hand to her aching stomach and fought the urge to be ill.

“Do you see Lord Montfort?” She frantically scanned the area.

“Over by that copse of trees, my lady.” Benson pointed to his right. “But you shouldn’t be here. Lord Hartley will be furious if he finds out. And you all alone. We should have at least brought Emma with us.”

Allison ignored his protests and looked to where he’d pointed.

They stood like little toy soldiers, the marquess’s towering frame unmistakable even from this distance. He faced Lord Archbite, perhaps forty paces separating them. Before she could feel a sense of relief, her gaze focused on a third man standing between them. The man raised his arm and at the same time, Lord Archbite and Lord Montfort raised theirs. A white flag hung almost perfectly still from the man’s fingertips, then slowly, as if in slow motion, it fluttered to the ground.

“No!” she screamed as she ran across the grass and into their line of fire.

Joshua stood in the early morning haze and waited for the sun to rise high enough in the sky so they could get this over. What a turn his life had taken since he’d met her.

He looked to where Archbite stood with Baron Fitzwater, his second, and wondered how this would all end. If the lady they were dueling over cared. Or if she secretly hoped for a certain outcome. Joshua released an angry breath.

They were both of them excellent shots, Archbite known for his daring and his accuracy.
Today could go either way.

“Watch your back,” Chardwell warned. He picked up the pistol Joshua was to use to examine it. “Archbite doesn’t have a reputation for letting the flag hit the ground before he fires his first shot.”

“So I’ve heard.” Joshua unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone to this extreme,” Chardwell said. “Who would believe the Earl of Archbite would be willing to risk his life for someone wearing a skirt. Everyone knows his preference runs to young lads in breeches. Do you really think he’s serious about offering for her?”

He tossed his jacket into Chardwell’s waiting arms. “He’s serious.”

“Why?”

“Pressure from his dear mother, the countess. Archbite’s older than me by a few years. I suspect he’s been ordered to find a suitable wife and produce an heir. I think my betrothed showed him just the right amount of encouragement to seal her fate. And now he wants her.”

Chardwell looped Joshua’s jacket over his arm. “And we both know that what dear Percy wants, dear Percy gets.”

“Yes,” Joshua mumbled beneath his breath. “But he’ll not get her. Even if I’m not around to stop him, her brother will see to that. Hartley knows what Archbite’s about.”

Joshua methodically rolled the sleeves of his white lawn shirt to his elbows, then breathed in a deep breath. One he knew could be his last. He didn’t know why, but things didn’t feel right today. There was an air of uncertainty that wouldn’t go away.

“If things go for the worst today—“

“They won’t, Montfort.”

“If they do,” he continued, taking the pistol from Chardwell’s hand. “Keep a watch on her, would you?”

“You know I will. But there won’t be—“

“Just don’t let him have her.” He cast a glance over to where the Earl of Archbite stood, stretching like a cougar about to pounce. “I don’t want him to touch her.”

“He won’t.”

Joshua scanned the gathering crowd, then focused on where Archbite stood. “It looks like they’re ready. Fitzwater is coming to issue the last instructions.”

Fitzwater strode across the meadow, his cocky walk filled with overconfidence. He bowed elegantly when he arrived. “Lord Archbite has most graciously agreed to forget this entire misunderstanding, Montfort, if you will agree to drop your intentions to marry Lady Allison.”

Joshua let a lethal smile lift the corners of his mouth. “How magnanimous.”

“He is also willing to make it worth your while. Say, fifty thousand pounds.”

Joshua’s eyebrows shot high and he turned his gaze to Chardwell’s shocked expression.

“Lord Archbite has placed quite a value on my betrothed. I’m impressed.”

Fitzwater smiled. “Lord Archbite appreciates Lady Allison’s exemplary qualities. She will of course make him the perfect countess.”

“Of course.” Joshua crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels as if he was truly considering the offer.

Fitzwater gave him a few more minutes before he lost patience. “Is there a reply you wish me to take to Lord Archbite?”

Joshua dropped his hands and stepped closer to Fitzwater. “Yes. You can ask Lord Archbite if he prefers a bullet to the heart for a quick and easy death, or one to the gut. I think I prefer to lodge my bullet in his gut. I am told the victim’s pain is excruciating.”

Fitzwater breathed a repulsed “hrumph”, then spun on his heel and left. Joshua doubted the messenger would relate the message verbatim. More’s the pity.

“Fifty thousand pounds.” Chardwell followed his words with a low whistle. “Archbite must really want her. I wonder if your intended realizes how valuable she is.”

He wanted to laugh. “Knowing her as I do, I doubt she would be impressed to know she was measured in monetary value. I think she is hoping to be valued for something less—calculating.”

Chardwell started to laugh, but his laugh was cut off when Fitzwater stepped forward. “They’re ready, Montfort.”

Joshua looked, then nodded.

Chardwell clasped him on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for you here. And remember what I said. Watch Archbite’s hand. Don’t concentrate on the flag. He won’t wait for it to hit the ground.”

Joshua gave him a broad smile, trying to shake the feeling that something was not as it should be. This was not the first duel he’d ever fought; there’d been others. But they’d been mostly for show. No one had ever died. None of his other challengers had ever wanted him dead. Not like the Earl of Archbite intended so he could claim his betrothed.

A cold shiver raced up and down his spine and he knew it was not the early morning coolness that was the cause of such a chill. He looked around the small glade before stepping into place, noticing nothing unusual.

A medium-sized crowd had gathered. Not out of the ordinary considering all the attention their argument had garnered yesterday. Or the wagers placed on the outcome at White’s.

A black carriage pulled up at the outskirts of the crowd and a well-dressed female disembarked. Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. Some females had a taste for blood as great as a man’s.

“Ready,” Fitzwater announced from a safe distance to the side of them. “You may fire when the flag hits the ground. Not before.”

Joshua let his gaze concentrate on his opponent. Archbite’s eyes were nothing more than narrow slits, his mouth pursed in a thin, angry line. His nostrils flared like those of a fire-breathing dragon. The hatred emanating from him was alive and palpable, the loathing and jealousy as deadly as a cancer-eating sickness. Archbite had no intention of losing, had no intention of letting Joshua make Allison his wife. And he would play by whatever rules were necessary to win.

Every nerve and muscle in his body stretched taut. If ever there was a reason to come out the victor, the reason stood before him. How could he give Allison over to that cur?

Fitzwater raised his arm, the white flag clutched between his fingers. Archbite followed suit, holding his pistol out, steady and straight.

Joshua did the same, never losing sight of the pistol aimed at the center of his chest. Never taking his eyes off Archbite’s finger resting on the trigger.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Fitzwater release the flag, saw the white cloth flutter downward.

He tightened his grip and squeezed ever so gently. And stopped.

A feminine voice echoed in his ears. A voice filled with terror and panic.

Blood thundered in his head.

She screamed again.

Joshua’s heart gave a lurch inside his chest. That voice. Her voice.

Bloody hell!

“No!”

He heard her scream again, and this time she seemed nearly on top of them.

He turned his head to the side as she broke through the crowd. She looked like an avenging angel, wisps of her fiery hair flying around her face, her eyes filled with terror, her arms reaching out as if she could prevent what was going to happen.

His heart lodged in his throat. “Stop!”

He prayed Allison would heed his warning, but knew she wouldn’t.

She ran forward until she was directly in the line of fire.

He reached out and pulled her to him just as Archbite’s finger moved on the trigger. He turned with her in his arms, to shield her from danger. A loud explosion rent the air and an instant later a burning, stinging sensation gripped his arm.

Shouts and jeers erupted. “Foul! Foul, Archbite!” The crowd was clearly appalled at Archbite’s disregard for fairness, as well as for the risk he took in firing when a lady could have been hit.

Joshua looked down at Allison huddled in his arms and seethed with anger.

She could have been shot.

She could have died.

He didn’t know with whom he was more furious, Allison for doing something so foolish. Or Archbite, for firing even though he knew she was running toward them. He took a deep breath and swung back with Allison still next to him, and aimed his pistol.

Archbite’s eyes grew wide. His face paled with a dread Joshua relished seeing. He knew the coward wanted to run, but he didn’t. He faced Joshua squarely, knowing Joshua had every right to kill him.

“Don’t, please,” her soft voice whispered against his chest. “Oh, please. I couldn’t bear it.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and buried her face against him. Her body trembled in his arms.

He uttered a vile oath then lowered his pistol.

He hesitated. He contemplated the ramifications of allowing Archbite’s actions go unanswered, then he lifted his arm and aimed his pistol. Not at the ground. Not at Archbite’s chest where he wanted to bury his bullet with deadly accuracy. But at the soft, fleshy part of Archbite’s leg. And he fired.

Her grip tightened and her muffled scream echoed against his body. Her warm, wet tears soaked into his shirt.

Archbite clutched his leg then crumple to the ground.

The crowd of observers rushed forward, Fitzwater and one or two more going to where Archbite lay. The rest crowding around him.

“Are you hurt?” Chardwell was the first to reach him.

“I’m fine.” He looked down at the deep red moisture soaking through the material of his shirt, turning it nearly black.

“No doubt about it,” one voice hollered from behind him. “Archbite fouled.”

“We all saw it,” another voice added. “It was a blatant act of cowardice. Archbite will never be able to show his face in Society again.”

“If any questions arise, we’ll vouch for you.”

“Right,” another added. “I say, Montfort. You’re bleeding. Do you need a surgeon?”

The man’s words affected her. Her eyes locked with his. They were filled with concern. She scanned his body, searching for the wound. Her face paled when she saw the blood.

“It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear, but he knew it wasn’t. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his fingers.

A heavy film of perspiration covered his forehead, the burning wetness stinging his eyes. He should at least take time to stop the bleeding but all he wanted was to get as far away from here as possible.

His head swam and he fought to keep his feet from buckling beneath him. He would not go down with everyone watching.

“Someone!” a voice bellowed. “Send for the surgeon.”

“Have him look after Archbite,” Joshua said. It was a struggle to stay on his feet. “He may need him. I don’t.”

He took one step and sagged into her. She clasped her arm around him and helped him away from the crowd already embellishing the tale of what had just happened. Archbite was already being painted in a very dark light.

“Are you all right?” Chardwell gave him his arm. “Do you need help?”

“I need to get away from here.”

Sheer willpower kept him on his feet. Raw fury kept the blackness from swallowing him.