Page 78 of A Tempest of Desire
“If you’d be so kind.”
Chadbourne’s eyes bulged. “You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t allow insults in my place,” Darling said. “Although you should know, I’ve gone hunting with Langdon. I know him to be a damned good shot.”
Chadbourne looked on the verge of bringing up his accounts. He turned his attention to Marlowe. “I apologize. I may have imbibed a bit too much this evening and uttered what I ought not.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Marlowe said. “I accept your apology.”
Darling clapped his hands. “All right. We’re done here. Chadbourne, I suggest you go home to your wife.”
The man scurried away.
“What an arse,” Darling muttered. “I halfway wish he’d let you shoot him.”
Langdon placed his hand on the small of Marlowe’s back, acutely aware of her trembling. “I regret you had to endure that. However, allow me to introduce Drake Darling, my cousin.”
She gave a small curtsy. “Sir, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance. Thank you for your assistance with the matter.”
“My pleasure. My family would never forgive me if I allowed Langdon to do something reckless. Although he is a damned good shot.”
“I wouldn’t have liked him dueling.”
“Don’t blame you.”
“You’re the second family member I’ve met today.”
“Oh?”
“She met Uncle James earlier,” Langdon explained.
“Ah. You’ll find we’re rather a large family. Lot of different branches on our family tree. My adoptive father, the Duke of Greystone, is Langdon’s mother’s brother. Now if you’ll both excuse me, Ihave some other pressing matters to which I must attend.” He patted Langdon on the shoulder. “See you at Grace’s ball.” With that, he strode off.
Langdon turned to Marlowe. “Grace is his sister, the Duchess of Lovingdon.”
She didn’t look as though she cared for a genealogy lesson.
“I suppose you’d like to leave now,” he said.
She didn’t look at him when she responded. “Yes.”
Marlowe was still shaking as she climbed into the carriage. While exchanging their tokens, Langdon had sent someone to alert his driver they’d be leaving, so the conveyance was waiting for them when they stepped out of the club.
As the carriage rumbled away, she didn’t know if she’d ever experienced such anger. She was mad at Langdon for convincing her to go into the club; mad at herself for agreeing; mad at Chadbourne, certain his coarse words were a result of his upset that she’d not become his mistress after the awful poem he’d recited. But most of all she was furious with Langdon for putting himself at risk.
“Did you give any consideration to the fact that numbers are involved in dueling?” she asked the shadow sitting across from her. “Would you have recognized that ten comes after nine and been at the ready to quickly turn in order to fire your pistol at your opponent before he got off a shot at you?”
His answer was to look out the window.
“I thought not.” She imagined him getting confused as the numbers were called out, his hesitating, the echo of gunfire, and him crumpling to theground. The prospect of his death was more terrifying than that of her own.
“I’d have worked out a signal with my second,” he stated succinctly.
“Oh, well, nothing to go wrong there.” She took several deep breaths to calm her temper because other matters needed to be addressed.
“All that aside, I tried to tell you what would happen,” she finally said. “That I wouldn’t be welcomed.”
“I didn’t notice anyone else not welcoming you, and as Darling pointed out, Chadbourne is an arse. I won’t be at all surprised if at some point, he does face a pistol at dawn.”
