The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake (28 page)

Anguished, Broderick mopped his own wet brow and swore helplessly.

Adair somehow survived a sizzling thrust in
tierce,
bungled an attempt at an
appel
and barely parried another
feinte
in
carte.
The cut on his sword arm ached fiercely, and Webber's blade was like a thing alive, malignant and merciless that came at him so fast and furious that he was constantly having to shift from
tierce
to
sexte
to
seconde
to
prime,
essaying at last a
volte
that made Broderick shudder.

“Paige” howled Broderick. “Stop playing with that clod. We must end this! Hasty can scarce stay on his feet.”

It was an opinion Webber shared. He had driven his enemy to the end of his endurance. Adair was swaying, and although it had been good fun and the fool had actually lasted much longer than he'd anticipated, he himself was tiring and he had no intention of allowing the duel to end with Adair collapsing from nothing more deadly than exhaustion.

“Oh, well,” he murmured regretfully. “My brother will be avenged, at all events.”

Adair reeled back a pace but managed to parry Webber's half-thrust. “Have—the decency,” he panted, “to at least own that—
you
staged Miss—Miss Prior's abduction and—and tried to have me—hanged for it.”

“
Paige
!” roared Broderick, starting forward.

Webber chuckled. “Oh, no, my poor dupe. I'd have been delighted to see you a-swing at Newgate or the Tower, but—the fellow who planned that business is more ruthless than I. You should have looked closer to home for him.” His blade swung into a low
feinte
preparatory to the thrust to the stomach that would, with luck, paralyze Adair for life.

Even as Manderville abandoned his own fight and ran to join Broderick, Webber stepped closer. “Stupid fool,” he murmured.

Adair stared at him numbly.

Grinning, Webber lunged hard and true.

Adair's right foot stamped forward. His left leg stretched back. Crouching, he ignored the menace of Webber's blade and thrust to the length of his arm. Steel sliced through his hair and nicked his ear, sending blood streaking down his jaw. His own sword had gone home and he wrenched it free as Webber cried out shrilly and sank to his knees.

Through an instant of stupefied silence, Webber gripped at his chest with reddening fingers and stared in a mixture of disbelief and hatred at Adair's blood-streaked face. “Tricked … me…” he gulped chokingly. “Damned … cheat…”

Then Droitwich and the surgeon were running to him, stepping over the Honourable Millard Nestor, who was stretched on the turf in a dead faint.

Broderick took Adair's sword and threw an arm about his shoulders. “Excelsior!” he exclaimed.

“You're insane,” beamed Manderville, wringing Adair's hand. “But—by Jupiter, you're alive still! Well done, Hasty! Jolly well done! I thought you were spent!”

“Damn near was,” Adair panted. “I knew—early on—that—that I couldn't hope to out-fence him. My only hope was to—outwit him. I just had to—to wait till he was so sure of my ‘inexpertise' that he'd not expect such a—a manoeuvre. Rufus Prior warned me not to try it.”

“Small wonder,” agreed Manderville. “I'm quite good, but I'd not attempt a time-thrust.”

“You dashed near waited
too
long,” scolded Broderick.

Manderville glanced towards the waiting coaches, and muttered, “Whose carriage is that?”

Adair said, “I must see how Webber goes on.”

“Not well,” said Broderick, handing Adair's sword to Manderville and walking towards the little knot of men gathered around Webber.

Droitwich, on one knee, glared up and snarled, “You won by a foul, Adair! And so I shall declare to the
ton.
”

“Then you'll make an even bigger fool of yourself,” said Broderick coldly. “The rest of us saw Webber's ugly tricks. Had he not enjoyed himself by playing with Adair, he might have won. But he was defeated fair and square.”

Adair looked down at Webber's ashen and contorted face and asked quietly, “Will he live, Doctor?”

Webber tried to speak and choked horribly.

Without looking up, the surgeon replied, “He's a strong constitution, but your blade took him through the lung. He'll recover—with time.” His bright eyes slanted briefly at Adair. “That was the most astonishing finish I've ever seen. You're the one who should lie here, sir! It was a desperate chance to take. I felicitate you on having survived it. Now go away. I can't have my patient further enraged.”

The two friends moved towards the waiting coaches. Adair said, “Gad, but I'm ravenous. Breakfast, Toby?”

“I endorse the motion. Heartily! Hi, ho, for a few rashers and some smiling eggs! Where the deuce has Manderville taken himself?”

“He's over there, talking to…” Adair broke off, gazing in disbelief at the large carriage and the white-haired gentleman who sat on the steps by the open door, drinking from a flask.
“Grandfather?”
he whispered.

“You may well stare,” barked General Sir Gower Chatteris. “Much you care if I suffer a heart seizure! Of all the ridiculous capers to cut!”

Adair hurried to him. “You came, sir! But—how did you know—”

“I may be an ancient figure of fun to you young sprigs, but don't make the mistake of thinking you can write me off as being out of touch with what goes on in my own City.” The General stoppered the flask and handed it to the stockily built ex-soldier who had lost an eye during the retreat from Corunna and had served as his major-domo ever since.

“You two fellas,” the old gentleman said, fixing his piercing gaze on Broderick and Manderville, “encouraged him in this reckless folly, I collect. You should have known better than to let a novice fencer go up against a man of Webber's mettle. Still, I thank you for standing by him. Not many would—with his reputation!”

“But you see, we do not believe his reputation, sir,” drawled Manderville, assisting the General to his feet.

“Then you must know more than do I,” said Sir Gower, who had leaned heavily on his arm. “And I don't need to be lifted, thank you very much! Now I want a word with this crazy fire-eater. Pray excuse us for a moment.”

Manderville and Broderick exchanged an amused glance and walked out of earshot.

The General demanded, “What did you say to Webber—at the end there?”

“I accused him of having laid the trap to ruin me, sir. He denied it, and said I should look—closer to home for the man who plotted the ugly business.”

“I see. So you still maintain your innocence, and now you mean to start accusing each of us! Starting with your Uncle Willoughby, no doubt!”

Startled, Adair asked, “Why would you think that, sir?”

“I know you went down there and found his home full of thieves, and that you jumped to the conclusion they were seeking out his stupid Lists! Oh, yes, I have spoken with your uncle, and listened—with very little patience—to his nonsensical account of the business. Let him be, Hastings. If he's concealing something from you, it's not—Well, whatever it is, it don't have to do with your imbroglio.”

“Your pardon, Grandfather, but I believe the Lists have a great deal to do with my ‘imbroglio,' and I must—”

“You must look
elsewhere
for your scapegoat, I tell you!”

Adair stiffened. “I mean to find the rogue who has ruined Miss Alice Prior and me. I do not seek a
scapegoat!
”

His icy response seemed to please rather than offend the General, who grinned and said, “Got back on your high horse and have the bit, 'twixt your teeth, have you. Well, I cannot blame you. But I won't have Willoughby's Lists made public. Mind me, now! The contents would most certainly land the fool—I mean your uncle—in Bedlam, and this family has had enough of notoriety.” He paused, and said as if the words were torn from him, “I'm told we have treated you unfairly. If that's the case, I'm sorry for it.”

Adair gazed at the large hand that was thrust at him. For so long he had prayed for such an admission, and in the misery of his ostracism and rejection had pictured the depth of his joy if it should come. Well, it had come. The old gentleman had humbled his pride and apologized. And perversely, he felt neither joy nor relief, but rather a surge of rageful resentment. It was an apology too long overdue. His family—especially this man, to whom he'd always been so close—should have never doubted him, or even if they did, they should have stood by him.

Glancing back, Broderick saw the two motionless figures, the tall old man's outstretched hand, the slim young man's frozen hauteur. And he halted and stood very still, holding his breath, waiting.

General Chatteris let his hand fall. He turned away, as erect and fierce as ever. And suddenly the broad shoulders slumped, the proud head was bowed. He mumbled hoarsely, “I cannot blame you if—if you cannot forgive. God knows, I—we all of us—let you down shamefully. I'd like you to—to believe, boy, that when I was first told, I denied the whole ugly business. I wouldn't accept that you were guilty until—until that fellow Prior came and showed me the note his lost daughter had writ. And then…” He sighed heavily. “But you know about the ‘then,' poor lad. I think—I know I shall never forgive myself for—”

He was seized and whirled around, then crushed in two strong young arms.

Holding him close, Adair said brokenly, “Of course I forgive you! What else were you to think in the face of—of such damning evidence? You cannot know what it means to me that … you cared enough to come today.”

A short distance away, Manderville, who had also watched the emotional scene, exchanged a look with Broderick. “Phew!” he said.

“Very phew!” agreed Broderick, and they walked on together.

The General had stepped back and made a great show of blowing his nose, and Adair drew a hand quickly across eyes that were suddenly dim.

“No—no matter what the evidence,” persisted the General, abject in his contrition, “I should have known—It is to my everlasting shame that I failed you at the start.”

“Stop scourging yourself, sir,” said Adair bracingly. “The most important thing is that you believe me now, although I've still not cleared myself, you know.”

General Chatteris put away his handkerchief and said with a return of his usual brusque manner, “You will, Hastings! And I shall be the proudest man in all England when you can prove your innocence to those blockheads in Whitehall! Oh, Gad! Enough of this! I despise maudlin sentimentality! Now what's the time?” He groped in his waistcoat pocket.

Adair pulled himself together and managed to impart that it was almost eight o'clock. “Sir, I am most anxious to talk to Nigel. Is he in Town still, do you know?”

His grandfather scowled. “If he is, he's damned well hidden. I've tried to corner him, but to all intents and purposes, he's disappeared. I suppose he's the one the Prior gel was meeting on the sly. Is that your thought?”

“I'm afraid it is, sir. But Nigel's not responsible for her abduction. Of that I'm very sure.”

“Blasted young cub! He's not up at Oxford, I can tell you. If his friends know where he is, they're keeping his secret.”

“Speaking of secrets, Grandfather, I gather that others in Town knew of this meeting. I had supposed it to be a well-kept secret.”

“Not from the harridan who invaded my house last night! Gad! I didn't recognize the woman, but after all these years her tongue is as tart as it always was! Put the fear of God into me, I don't mind admitting.”

Adair said incredulously, “You surely cannot mean Lady Abigail Prior?”

“That is exactly who I mean! Dreadful termagant—and she was such a lovely young thing when we—” He coughed and broke off, his colour heightened. “What the deuce can I have done with my watch? I know I wore it last evening and I was sure I left it in this pocket. Must have mislaid it somewhere, I suppose.”

His lip twitching, Adair said gravely, “Very likely, sir.”

*   *   *

Lady Abigail looked out of the window of the fast-moving carriage and said plaintively, “Why ever you should think I would be informed of such abominations as duels, when you know how I despise such murderous stupidity, is beyond me. And furthermore, to drag my poor old bones back into Sussex again in this frightful weather is not kind!”

Under a cloak of scarlet velvet, her ladyship had chosen to wear a travelling-gown of bright orange wool, trimmed with red French beads. A necklace of elaborately scrolled gold and rubies was about her throat, and a bonnet with an enormous poke completed her costume.

“Your poor old bones, indeed! Eyeing her grandmother's finery with faint amusement, Cecily said, “It is neither snowing nor raining, and you are sprightly as many a lady half your age, so do not think I don't know it. I believe you found out about the duel because Rufus brought Adair's man out to your coach yesterday afternoon, and you were clearly bullying the poor—”

“By thunder, miss! Have you been so impertinent as to spy on me?”

“But of course. You refuse to tell me anything, so what other recourse have I? You did find out about the duel, didn't you? And last evening you went out all by yourself and came home looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. When is it, Grandmama? Tonight? Tell me, I beg you!”

Lady Abigail turned her head and frowned into the lovely eyes that watched her with such anxiety. “Assuming that I knew, child, I most assuredly would not tell you, for I can see you mean to worry yourself into a decline over this most ineligible young hussar.”

Cecily drew back with a little growl of frustration and for a few moments the only sound in the carriage was the rumble of wheels and the clatter of hooves.