Page 83 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
Her heart skipped a beat.Shaldon would fight?Might be fighting right now, this moment?
“He can’t.He was wounded less than a fortnight ago,” she said, breathless.“He hasn’t completely healed.”The foolish man, why would he do this?
For you, her heart whispered, and she turned to look out the window, blinking.
That couldn’t be.She’d seen him kissing the Duquesa.This was not for her, this was for him, for the opportunity to get revenge.
But if he died, what then?The infuriating man would cease to plague her, and she couldn’t bear it.And what if, by some miracle—or curse—she was with child again, even at her advanced age?
She struggled for a breath and looked up into Jenny’s concerned gaze.
“Sir,” Jenny said, “Is his lordship any good with a sword?”
“Shaldon?”The Captain glanced at Jane and quickly patted her hand.“The Shaldon I know?Never fear, my lady, hewillfind a way.What Shaldon wants, Shaldon gets.”
“Dear God,” she whispered.“Can we go any faster?”
“If Mr.Penderbrookis to fight, we will need to postpone, my lord.”Russell, the surgeon Kincaid had engaged, cast a glance back at Charles and Penderbrook.Both were bent over the side of the carriage path, retching and holding their bellies, ready to keel over.
“I agree.”Payne-Elsdon’s surgeon hooked a finger toward the other side, where Shaw was gagging into a soggy handkerchief.“It’s a certainty that it would be no fair fight for either your principal or the Major’s second.”
The Major broke off from a huddle with the Duque and marched over to the three men.
“Mr.Penderbrook cannot fight,” the Major’s medical man said.“Nor can Mr.Shaw.”
Payne-Elsdon’s eyes narrowed tensely.His face had gone paler, his lips grayer.“What the devil is this, Shaldon?What have you done?”
“Are you well, Major?”Shaldon asked.“You’re looking a bit green yourself.”
The Duque stepped up to join them.“Three men who take part in a duel today become ill?What English illness is this?”
“Perhaps it was something served up at White’s?”Shaldon flicked a stray leaf from his black shirt.The wind had picked up, with clouds blowing in.“Did you all visit the club last night?”
“There is also an influenza being talked of,” Russell said.
“Shaldon fever, more likely,” the Major said.“You’ve poisoned my second.”His eyes glazed and a sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow.
Very, very good.They might soon finish this tedious negotiating.“Poisoned, Major?A strong word.”
The Major pulled a handkerchief and mopped at his brow.“What sort of honorable man cheats at a duel?”
“You are callingmea cheat because Shaw ate some fouled clams?Look over there—Penderbrook andmy sonare both retching.If three men…” and very soon, he hoped, four… “should become ill at the same time, how is that cheating?”
“You know very well.”He winced, and his hand went to his belly.
“Fine.We can simply proceed, Major, you and I.”
“Perhaps, in that case, a match with pistols is a better choice,” the Major’s surgeon said.
“Pistols?” Shaldon infused the word with contempt.“In our negotiations, Shaw was unbending.No, after so much obduracy and aggravation, we will proceed with the sword.”
“But my lord,” the Major’s surgeon said.“A man of your age—”
“Of my age?Oh ho, or are you worried your man here is flagging?I observe that you are not looking well, Major.”
“You must postpone,” the surgeon insisted.
Heat came over him, and he pushed it down reminding himself that anger could cast a pall over a man’s ability to think.“We will not.”
