Page 67 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
“So, it’s a way of getting to you,” Bakeley said.
“Or a way for the Duque to get to you.”Charles swiped a hand through his hair.“Damn.We’ll have to get Penderbrook away, and soon.”
A tap on the door brought the butler, Lloyd.“A gentleman to see Mr.Everly,” he said.
“At this hour?”Bakeley asked.“Who is it?”
“Mr.Penderbrook.”
Blast it,but he’d dropped the boy at his lodgings.He’d refrained from ordering him straight to his bed only to spare the boy’s dignity.Hell, he’d have been better to let him suffer embarrassment and spare his life.
Charles frowned.“We’re too late.”
“Indeed,” Shaldon said.“Send him in, Lloyd.”
Penderbrook entered moments later.In spite of the mild weather, perspiration rolled off his brow, his boyish face glowing red as he looked around, bowing to all.
“I beg your pardon.”His voice cracked on the words.He cleared his throat.“I wonder if I might have a moment to speak with you, Charley?”
Shaldon pointed to a chair.“Sit down.You’ll speak with all of us.Charles, get him a brandy.Bakeley, go and tell Lloyd to send for Kincaid.”
While Bakeley went to the door, Penderbrook perched himself on the edge of the seat and accepted the glass from Charles.He stared at it a moment, took a deep breath, and tossed it back.
“Pour him another,” Shaldon said, and watched as the amber liquid sloshed into the glass.
The boy gripped the tumbler with both hands and took a sip.“Thank you,” he said, his voice restored to full manliness.
Shaldon settled back in his chair.“Now, Penderbrook, tell us what has happened.”
Penderbrook recountedhis run-in with Payne-Elsdon at White’s.The humiliation was as bad as Shaldon feared, inciting an angry gnawing in his stomach.Not only had Penderbrook been dishonored, but Jane’s name had been besmirched—especially Jane’s.
“I came to ask you, Charley, if you would appear on the field as my second.”
A third glass of brandy had been required for that last bit of bravado.
“Yes, of course I’ll second you,” Charles said.“I’ve an excellent set of dueling pistols.”
“You will not serve as second, Charles,” Shaldon said.“I forbid it.”
Penderbrook’s face fell.
The door rattled open and they all turned.
“What’s afoot?”Kincaid flipped a workman’s cap onto the table and went to the sideboard, sorting through bottles until he found the whisky he favored.His worn trousers, dark jumper, and bedraggled neck cloth signaled that he had not been pulled out of his bed to appear here.
He turned and clomped over to an empty wing chair.“Never mind.I’ve heard the news,” he said, raising his glass to Penderbrook.“Here’s to your first outing, lad.”
Penderbrook smiled wanly.Charles refilled his glass.
“What is the plan?”Kincaid asked.
Penderbrook squared his shoulders.“I’m going to die the day after tomorrow.”
Shaldon’s gaze met Kincaid’s.His old comrade had been out investigating.He had news to report, but he wouldn’t do it in front of the other men, and they first needed to deal with this puppy.
“Why wait until the day after tomorrow?”Kincaid asked.“Why not tomorrow?”
“You mean today?”Bakeley asked.“Itisafter midnight.”
Penderbrook blanched.“That is mere hours away.I need time to find a second.To send letters and such.”He downed the drink.
“There won’t be any negotiating and apologizing,” Kincaid said.“Payne-Elsdon won’t come to peaceful terms.Best set the time to late morning—Battersea Fields is good.I’ll have men clear a place for us.Mayhap the Major is out getting roaring drunk tonight, celebrating the success of the trap he’s laid.Might put him off his guard to move things along quickly.”
“I still need a second.Lord Bakeley—”
“No,” Shaldon said.He glared at each of his sons and then settled his gaze on Penderbrook.“I’ll serve as your second.”
