Page 84 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
The silver eyes pinned him yet again, and he stared back, shielding the ire threatening to boil over.“This nonsense has occupied too much of my time already.Perhaps you may choose another second, Major.A man of my age, eh?The Duque, here, is a notable swordsman, or so I have heard from his enemies who fought on the side of the people of Spain.”
A flare of temper lit the Duque’s eyes.
“You’re a fraud, Shaldon.”Sweating, looking ready to faint, the Major drew the sword from its sheath, brandishing it.“A cheater in a question of honor.”
A rustle next to him signaled Kincaid’s presence.His pistol would be ready, should the major wave that sharp tip any closer.
“Whose honor, Major?Oh yes, I remember—Penderbrook’s, and Lady Jane’s.And mine.As for your honor—well.”He nodded.“It is common knowledge that you have none.”
A red haze came over the man.
“No need to go into a snit.I know all about the young men you bully-cocked into duels on the Continent and the Peninsula.One or two sons of some very powerful men, which is why, I believe you made your way to England.”
Yet another coach was waiting beyond the trees to see to those offenses.Good that the Major would soon be incapacitated by the concoction of herbs.
“And your expertise at cards?It’s whispered about quite openly at White’s what a cunning shaver you are.And then there’s yourservicein the Peninsula.What a real bravo you were there, double-dealing with the French and theafrancesados.”
The Major lunged, and Shaldon jumped back just in time, the tip almost grazing him.A fat bejeweled hand seized the other man’s arm.
“There’s a gun pointed at you, you fool,” the Duque said.
Kincaid had drawn his pistol.
“You see?”Shaldon said.“Attacking an unarmed man.What say you, surgeon?Can your man fight, or not?”
“Draw the damn sword, you churl, and let’s finish this,” Payne-Elsdon said.Then he doubled over and spewed.
Shaldon raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze on the Duque.“Yes,” he said.“Let’s finish this.”
The Duque’s lip curled, and he removed his hat, tossing it to his servant.
Shaldon pulled off his coat and murmured to Kincaid, “Get Penderbrook out of here before the magistrate arrives.”
When they reachedthe rickety Battersea Bridge, the driver slowed.Jane clung to the window’s edge and peered out, but she could see nothing blocking them.
Captain Kingsley craned his head out the other window.“They haven’t yet torn this bridge down?”
“Vauxhall would be the safer crossing, but it’s out of the way,” Ewan said.“This is faster.”
“Providing we make it across,” the Captain said.
Across the Thames, Battersea Fields stood, a long stretch of green dotted with trees, and no one in sight.Somewhere hiding in there, her son or Shaldon might be fighting right now for her honor—and his life.And if either died, wouldherlife be worth anything?
She shoved down the thought.Damn it, in spite of his affair with the Duquesa she didn’t want Shaldon dead.Neither man could die.She, somehow, would not allow it.She’d lost too many men in her life already.
“How can we possibly find them?”she asked.
“Beyond the Pigeon Shooting Grounds,” Ewan said.“John Coachman will know the way.”
“I know the place,” Captain Kingsley said.“A dry stretch there beyond a marsh.Had occasion to visit Battersea myself, though it’s been an age.”
It would be an age crossing the bridge if they did not go on faster.The carriage came to a complete halt, and Ewan jumped out to check.
“We should walk.”Jane started to rise, but the Captain touched her arm.
“Patience, my lady.Once we cross, we will make great haste.”
Ewan popped back in.“The riders are clearing the bridge.We must wait for a market cart that is halfway across, else we may not be able to pass.”
