The Bewitching Hour (32 page)

I
t was still dark out when Stratton shrugged into his jacket and then looked down on the sleeping figure in his bed. Last night had been difficult for her. He didn’t think her tension had been obvious to others but he had felt it from the moment he saw her. Even in sleep she gripped the covers tightly with her fists, her body as tight as a coiled spring. Not much different from a few short hours ago when they had fallen into bed, both exhausted but too keyed up to sleep. Priscilla had reached for him with a heated fierceness that surprised him. She had clutched at his hips, raked her nails across his skin, and pulled him deep inside her with a desperate need that he knew stemmed more from anger than desire. It was a strange almost violent encounter. And even though they had both found release the tension remained. She had pulled away, turned on her side and gone to sleep.
    She hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t needed to. She was angry with him and he could understand why but it made no difference. He would not allow her to be involved. A female had no place in a situation like this. And with a little luck he would be home before she even woke. When he turned toward the door he felt a faint twinge where she had raked him. A smile played on his lips. The little minx had kept her promise and not mentioned the duel, but she had definitely made her feelings known.

The moment she heard the door close behind him, Priscilla sat up and pushed the covers aside. Pulse racing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and her bare feet touched the floor. Thinking she would be abed for several more hours he had thoughtfully stoked the fire and the bedchamber was quite cozy and warm, but his consideration was wasted. She didn’t much care what he said or thought, she was going to stop this idiotic duel. Without bothering to slip on her wrapper she lit the candle by their bed and padded toward the dressing room. Men could be such nitwits.

As they approached the designated area of St. James Park, Stratton could see Bertram standing next to his curricle; quite a feat considering the heavy fog that was swirling about them.
Good God. He must have risen at three a.m. to dress and arrive on time.
Colorful as always, he was dressed in a scarlet red jacket with an elaborately fashioned cravat that must have taken a good hour to tie. There appeared to be an inordinately amount of padding in his jacket and Stratton wondered how he could even raise his arms much less fire a pistol. A rotund young man with brown curly locks dressed in a similar fashion stood close by. They were, he mused, like two bright beacons in the rolling gray mist. He grinned as he heard Rand mutter, “Might as well paint a bull’s eye on the bugger’s chest.”
    Stratton and Rand dismounted, securing their reins to a nearby tree branch. Rand set the case holding the brace of dueling pistols on the ground.
    “Bertram.” Stratton nodded briefly at the young lord then held his hand out to the other man. “I assume you’re the second.”
    “Allow me to introduce my cousin,” Bertram said stiffly. “Sir Benedict Humphrey. Lord Stratton. I believe Mr. Danfield and Sir Humphrey have met.”
    Rand extended his hand to Humphrey as well. “Would you care to inspect the pistols, sir?”
    Humphrey nodded then hunkered down by the case and opened it.
    Stratton turned away but not before he noticed how badly the young man’s hands were shaking. He gazed out at the drifting patches of fog obscuring much of the field. “Where’s Dr. Sorrel? It isn’t like him to be late.”
    “He should have arrived by now.” Bertram’s voice quivered slightly. “I don’t know what’s keeping him.”
    “It’s just as well,” Rand commented. “You’ll need to wait until the fog lifts some. At present you can’t see more than ten paces. Won’t do to be firing blindly into the fog. God only knows who you might kill. Though I must say that with that jacket you’re quite easy to see even in this muck. Gray is preferable for early mornings. Much less visible.”
    Bertram flushed. “I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose you’re right.”
    “Red makes it hard to see the blood though,” Rand continued. “That can be good or bad depending on the situation. Of course, Sorrel will probably just cut your jacket off of you. You could also remove your jacket before you and Stratton count your paces, though I can’t quite picture you without a jacket and waistcoat.” He stepped closer as if to get a better look. “No, I can’t picture it at all. You’d look positively naked. It also helps to turn sideways when you shoot. You make a smaller target. Of course you need to make certain you point your pistol in the right direction if you do that.”
    “Uh. Quite so.”
    Stratton narrowed his eyes, carefully scrutinizing Bertram. “Are you right or left handed?” he asked.
    Surprised, Bertram answered, “Right-handed. Why?”
    “Just planning my strategy.”
    The younger viscount blinked.
    Rand casually pulled two cheroots from his pocket and handed one to Stratton. “Care for a smoke, lads?” he asked equably.
    “No thank you, sir,” Bertram said. “Neither one of us smoke.”
    “Excellent. It’s a nasty habit. Most ladies hate it. Don’t know why I do it, except I can’t abide snuff. Makes me sneeze something fierce.” He struck flint on tinder and lit Stratton’s before lighting his own. “Think it might rain?”
    Stratton blew a puff of smoke before answering. “I’d say it’s likely. But then it’s always likely.”
    Rand nodded. “Too true. By the way, Cecelia looked quite lovely last night. Beautiful gown she had on. Can’t believe she’s the same little tyke who used to toddle around after us when we were home between school terms.”
    Stratton scowled at his friend. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t ogle my sister.”
    Rand frowned back at him. “I wasn’t ogling but I’m not blind. It’s very difficult for a man not to notice a beautiful young lady.” He looked at Bertram and said, “My lord, are you acquainted with Lady Cecelia?”
    Bertram swallowed. “Yes, of course. I met her last night. We danced a quadrille.”
    “She’s rather attractive, don’t you think?”
    “Uh, yes. Quite attractive.”
    Rand grinned. “We’re you ogling her?”
    Bertram’s eyes popped open wide as saucers. “Of course not!” he said indignantly. “A gentleman doesn’t ogle.”
    “So you see, my friend, it
is
possible for a gentleman to notice that a young lady is attractive without ogling her.”
    “But you’re not a gentleman,” Stratton pointed out. “You never have been.”
    “Ah, you have me there,” Rand admitted.
    Sir Humphrey, who had carefully been watching Rand, cleared his throat. “I was wondering, sir,” he asked hesitantly. “Are you the person known as Randy Dan?”
    Stratton let out a bark of laughter. “Good God! It’s been years since I’ve heard anyone call you that! We gave you that name when you were fifteen.”
    Rand grinned and offered a half bow to the young man. “In the flesh, Sir Humphrey. Though I venture to say that not everything you’ve heard about me is true. Some tales go beyond even my own abilities.”
    “Even so, I’m honored to make your acquaintance.” Sir Humphrey’s voice was laced with schoolboy admiration. “Your ability to please the ladies is quite well known. I wasn’t certain if you truly existed. You’re an inspiration to the male species. Please, I must know. Did you really scale three stories to tumble Sir Hilton’s wife?”
    Bertram had obviously heard enough. He unclenched his jaw and snapped, “Sir Humphrey, this is neither the time nor place for a conversation of this nature. There is nothing frivolous about this occasion.”
    Humphrey flushed. “My apologies.”
    Rand flicked the ash from his cheroot. “But a spot of levity breaks the tension, my lord and if I remember correctly, your aim worsens when you are distressed. It would be your best interest to relax a bit.” He pulled out a flask. “Care for nip? It might help.”
    “No sir, I would not.” Bertram's jaw tightened.
    Rand shrugged and slipped the flask back into his jacket. “Suit yourself.”
    Stratton and Rand smoked and conversed in low tones while Bertram and Humphrey leaned against their curricle. A quarter hour passed before they heard the sound of hoof beats and wheels crunching gravel.
    Surprised, Stratton schooled his features to remain placid and murmured in a casual voice. “It’s about time Sorrel arrived. We don’t have all morning.” He narrowed his eyes as the carriage came into view and with a shock he realized it belonged to him. Swearing beneath his breath, he reached the carriage, yanked the step down and threw open the door. Priscilla stepped down without his assistance. A riot of blond curls escaped from the blue hooded cape that she wore. Her face was pale and her eyes were red rimmed and bright. Considering she had to have wakened Tom and the lad had needed time to ready the bays and carriage he realized she must have arisen almost immediately after he closed the door behind him. Had she even slept at all? He’d been a damned fool not to suspect anything.
    “What are you doing here, Priscilla?” he said, then jerked his head toward the driver. “Tom! What in the devil were you thinking to bring her out here! This is no place for her. Not at this hour.”
    Confused, the young man glanced back at the carriage then looked at Stratton again. He blurted out, “Beg pardon, milord. Lady Cecelia insisted. Didn’t know I ‘ad the right to refuse ‘er. She said it was real important. Matter of life ‘n death she said.”
    Sweet Lucifer! How did she get involved? “Lady Cecelia? What’s my sister got to do with this?”
    Cecelia stuck her head out the carriage. “Good morning, Eugene.”
    “Good God!” he exploded. “I didn’t even see you in there. You’d better have a good explanation for being here.”
    “Well, I wasn’t about to stay home and miss all the excitement,” she pointed out. “I was very glad when Priscilla came and woke me. She couldn’t very well get Tom to bring her without my help. He didn’t know she was his new mistress. Neither did I for that matter,” she added accusingly. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me.”
    “And don’t blame Tom,” Priscilla broke in. “We didn’t give him a choice. And you know perfectly well why I came.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I didn’t promise not to be here.”
    “Of all the harebrained schemes.” Stratton’s eyes darkened and his mouth went white. “Well, Tom can take you both back home. We can’t very well carry on with ladies present.”
    “Which is exactly why we came,” she retorted as she strode toward the others. “And I’m not going home.”
    “Miss Hawthorn,” Bertram began.
    “She’s Lady Stratton to you, lad,” Stratton said as he followed behind her. “And she’s leaving.”
    “Lady Stratton? You’re married?” Bertram uttered in disbelief. “When were you married?”
    “Tuesday,” Priscilla shot back irritably. “It was a small wedding and you weren’t invited because I don’t take kindly to people who want to shoot my husband. And…” She narrowed her eyes at Stratton who had taken a step toward her. “I’m not leaving.”
    “Good Lord,” Rand murmured. “I believe you got more than you bargained for. She’s a little hell cat, isn’t she?”
    Stratton gave him a thunderous look then glanced back at the carriage where Cecelia was sitting on the carriage step. “Cecelia, don’t you dare set one foot outside that carriage!”
    “Oh, don’t worry about me.” She smiled. “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”
    Stratton nodded curtly at the three men. “Excuse us, gentlemen, but I need to confer with my wife.” He took hold of Priscilla’s arm and pulled her away from the others. “What are you thinking? I told you I would handle it. There’s absolutely no reason for you or Cecelia to be here.”
    Her eyes widened. She flung her hand in Bertram’s direction. “This is how you would handle it? Forgive me if I don’t care for your method but it doesn’t seem to be working very well.”
    He folded his arms and said in a deadly quiet voice, “And what do you base that on? Has anyone been shot? No. Did you arrive to anything other than four men having a conversation in the park? No. There was to be no duel today. Your ploy to rescue us from ourselves was unnecessary. At present, the sawbones we hired is so deep in his cups he can’t walk much less tend to any injuries. Even Bertram isn’t fool enough to continue without one. I had everything under control.”
    She appeared momentarily taken back. “Oh. How did you manage that?”
    “For the price of a couple of guineas Rand found a wench willing to entertain the good Dr. Sorrel and keep the liquor flowing until the early hours of the morning. He spends most of his time foxed so it wasn’t too difficult to pull off.” It took only a second for Stratton to see that she didn’t think it was an adequate solution.
    “That only helps for today,” she returned. “What about next week? Or the week after that? He’ll keep after you. Someone needs to explain to him about the letters. He might listen to me.”
    He let out a long slow breath and some of his anger dissipated. “I’m simply buying time until this can be straightened out. But if it comes to that, as I said before, I will cause no major injury.” He touched her cheek with his hand. “Now, go home, love. Your involvement here will only humiliate him.”
    Her eyes were bright. She lifted her chin. “It isn’t Bertie that I’m worried about. And I
don’t care
if I humiliate him.”
    “And do you care if I’m humiliated?”
    “Of course, I do. But not enough to see him take a shot at you.”
    He sighed. “Aren’t you supposed to obey your husband?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Not when he’s being ridiculously obtuse.”
    Stratton regarded her a long moment and then surprised them both by bursting into laughter. “You are no milk and water miss, are you?” He rubbed the day old stubble on his jaw with the palm of his hand. “What am I to do with you?”
    “Let me talk to him,” she implored. “That’s all I ask. If he still won’t see reason, then do what you must.”
    A pearly pink and gray glow crested the tree tops and they could hear the clatter of traffic on Birdcage Walk and Horse Guards Road. The day was upon them. Stratton thought a few seconds then shrugged. “It’s too late for anything to take place this morning, anyway. The vendors are out and morning deliveries have started. Go ahead, Priscilla. See if you can talk some sense into him. But don’t expect miracles.”

Priscilla straightened her shoulders and marched back toward the three men. “Lord Bertram,” she called out. “I would like a word with you if you would be so kind.”
    “Certainly, Miss… my lady,” he answered cautiously. “But I warn you, I’m honor bound to resolve this matter. There’s nothing you can say to dissuade me.”
    “Allow me five minutes and then if you still persist in this nonsense you may take your bullet when the opportunity presents itself and my conscience will be clear. In fact, I will shoot you myself and I’m a rather good shot.”
    Bertram appeared aghast at the idea, Stratton merely surprised. “Are you, love?” he asked. “I didn’t know that.”
    She turned to him and smiled. “Papa taught me. By the time I was twelve I was the better shot. It pleased him no end.” She turned back to Bertram. “I won’t just graze your arm or shoulder either which is what I believe Lord Stratton had intended.”
    Bertram paled considerably but he said, “I cannot back down. Miss Dearborn has gone into a decline and someone is responsible.”
    “Yes,” she agreed. “But you’re blaming the wrong person.”
    “How could you possibly know that?”
    “Because Mary confided in me before she left.”
    He clasped his hands together in a desperate plea. “Then I beg of you, Miss Hawthorn, tell me what she said.”
    “Lady Stratton,” she corrected.
    “Forgive me, Lady Stratton, but this must be resolved. Over the past week, I’ve written daily to Miss Dearborn and she has yet to answer. I am alarmed at the extent of her melancholy.”
    Priscilla wagged her finger at him. “You are responsible for her decline.”
    He took a step back. “But, I’ve done nothing!”
    “That would be the problem. Now, would you like to continue this discussion in private?”
    He nodded.
    She took his arm and they moved toward the copse of trees that ran along the edge of the park.
    “Please tell me what you know.” It was well past time for the truth and Priscilla plunged in without the slightest hesitation. “In regard to Mary, you know I love my cousin dearly, but she can be spoiled and childish. She is largely at fault for much of this, however, you and your mother are to blame as well.”
    His face colored, his jaw was tightly set, but to Priscilla’s relief he seemed prepared to listen.
    “As far back as I can remember, Mary has had a great talent for tantrums and melodrama. She’s easily distraught. My aunt has always given in to her demands and my uncle simply ignores her.” She smiled ruefully. “I confess I have given in to her demands on occasion. At the time, it seems the easy way out but in the long run it is problematic. As her husband, I fear your will bear the brunt of it. She does not understand the word no.”
    He opened his mouth to speak but she put her fingertip to her lips and shook her head.
    “Your mama isn’t happy with your choice of Mary as a bride. She’s made that clear on more than one occasion and from what I understand has demanded a higher dowry in recompense.”
    With this revelation he could no longer keep quiet. “But she has no right to do so. I shall reach my majority in four weeks and may then do as I see fit. There was to be no official offer or negotiation until then. I’ve yet to ask her father for her hand because of that.”
    “Then, I suggest you step in and clear the matter up. Your mama has Mary completely cowed. She is terrified that the slighted misstep on her part, even one committed at the innocent age of fifteen could bring the marriage negotiations to a halt." Priscilla paused. "She did something foolish several years ago. Her reasoning is irrational but she is afraid of losing you and this is what has brought about her decline.”
    Bertram uncharacteristically raked a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. “But what could she have done that she believes to be so terrible?”
    Priscilla gave a tiny shrug. “The act itself was of little consequence. It was a childish notion. She wrote a silly letter expressing her affection for Lord Stratton. The letter never even reached its destination, but for some reason she is certain that my husband has it in his keeping and will do her harm by apprising Lady Bertram or the ton of its contents.”
    Bertram blinked. “She wrote a letter to Lord Stratton when she was fifteen? A love letter?”
    “From what she indicated, yes.”
    He appeared dazed. “But he never received it?”
    “No. She was told otherwise, but it was never delivered to him.”
    His hand rubbed across his jaw. “And that’s what all this is about?”
    “Yes. No.” She hesitated. “Not really.”
    He lowered his brows in confusion. “I don’t understand. Please explain.”
    She sighed. “This is an unhappy task, but needs to be said. You inherited your title very young and your mama became accustomed to not only controlling the estate but also your life. It’s essential that you take on your responsibilities as viscount as well as head of the family as soon as possible. The longer you put it off, the more difficult it will be.” She lightly touched his arm. “Your mama can be a very domineering woman. So can Mary, in her own way. You won’t have an easy time of it, but you simply cannot let things remain as they are. You must put your foot down. Mary and your mama both need a firm hand else you will be tossed back and forth between them like a hot potato and no one will be happy.”
    A look of understanding crept into his eyes. “I thought by challenging Lord Stratton I was taking charge, but I see now that it wasn’t so.” He hesitated as he considered the situation. “How should I begin?”
    “I would suggest that you meet with your estate managers and solicitor without your mother’s company. You should apprise my Uncle Jack of your intention to delay the marriage negotiations until your majority and then you should take a trip to Bath. I believe Mary will be much easier to deal with without your mother around.”
    Bertram swallowed, then nodded his head. “Oh yes. That’s an excellent suggestion.”
    “I’m very happy to hear you say that,” she said with a smile. “There is another difficulty to deal with. My husband has been placed in an untenable situation, but I believe he would be willing to overlook the inconvenience if you were to withdraw your challenge and issue an apology.”
    Bertie swallowed again. “I hope that is allowed. I know your intention was to stop the duel, but there seems to be a dreadful number of rules involved in calling one out and I’m not certain what they all are. I had no idea how complicated it all was until I spoke with Lord Stratton and Mr. Danfield. They have been terribly informative and courteous about the whole thing.” His face fell. “If necessary I will allow Lord Stratton to shoot me. It’s no more than I deserve, though I would prefer to wait until a physician is present.” He frowned. “I can’t think what could have happened to Dr. Sorrel. He promised to be here at dawn. He didn’t seem an unreliable sort but I suppose one can never tell.”
    She smiled reassuringly. “I believe an apology would be sufficient. Now, come along.”
    He offered his arm and walked beside her until they reached the others. Bertram cleared his throat nervously. “Forgive me, my lord, but it appears I have been somewhat rash in my actions. They were premature and ill thought out. I pray that you will accept my deepest and most humble apology and allow me to withdraw my challenge.” He held out his hand to Stratton. “I also offer my congratulations on your nuptials and wish you great happiness.”