Page 31 of The Gentleman's Seduction
“Well!” Stamford almost shrieked. “Get it over with!” He stamped his foot like a petulant child, but even at this distance Martin couldn’t mistake the stark fear on the man’s face as he tried to stand sideways to reduce his chances of a lethal shot.
He stared at Stamford, his gun raised. “Sell me the note Hartwell owes you and I won’t put a bullet through your black heart.”
“What?” Stamford shuddered.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Martin warned, his voice low and calm. How he managed that when his own arm hurt like the devil he didn’t know. Hot blood trickled down his arm beneath his coat, but he ignored it.
“Why do you want it?” Stamford asked.
Martin continued to hold his pistol steady. “That’s my business. Do you agree to sell me the note?”
Stamford frowned, still eyeing the gun. “Do I have a choice?” Martin growled. “Fine, the note is yours.”
“Good,” Martin said. “I’ll have the funds delivered later today.”
Stamford exhaled in relief, his shoulders drooping. Martin raised the pistol into the air above the other man’s head and fired.
“Bloody hell!” Stamford snarled, leaping back.
For some reason Martin found that all too amusing, and he burst out laughing. The world spun a little, and he grunted as he fell to his knees. Blood dripped down onto the snow. So much blood…
“Banks.” Rodney was at his side at once. He grabbed his good arm, hoisting him up. “Come on. We need to get you to a doctor.”
Martin stumbled across the field, letting Rodney guide him into the waiting coach. He fell onto his seat and closed his eyes.
He must have lost consciousness, because when he came to, a doctor was crouched in front of him and they were outside a townhouse he didn’t recognize.
“Mr. Banks, glad to have you back with us,” the doctor announced. Martin shivered, and he realized he was bare-chested. The cold air permeated the coach, and he cursed softly.
Damnation, he felt weak.
Rodney’s face suddenly appeared in the doorway of the coach. “A decent wound, eh?”
“A decent wound?” Martin asked. “Is there such a thing? Ouch!” he yelped as the doctor cinched the white bandage around his arm.
“Well, you know, something romantic for the ladies to swoon over. My Anna would gush without end if I were shot defending her honor.” Rodney prattled on with a good-natured grin. Behind him the streets were bathed in morning light.
“Bennett, where are we?” If anyone saw him being tended for a wound from an illegal duel, he could be in trouble.
“On Duke Street. I brought you to Dr. Phillips. He’s one of the best.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phillips.” Martin tried to smile at the man. “What’s the damage?”
Dr. Phillips smiled a little, but he remained focused on the wound as he finished bandaging it.
“A flesh wound with some minor muscle injury. You will need to take care. I want to see you in a few days to see how you’re healing. Mr. Bennett has given me your card. I shall call upon you, if that’s all right?”
“Yes, that’s quite fine,” Martin said.
“Good.” The doctor helped him put his shirt and waistcoat back on. The garments were bloodstained, and his valet would be cursing him once he got home.
“You need me to go home with you?” Rodney asked as the doctor packed up his black bag.
“No, that’s all right. I’m sure Anna is missing you. I’ll send you a message if I need you.”
Rodney’s eyes deepened with concern, but he nodded and started to pull his head from the coach door.
“Bennett!” Martin called out.
