“He is my valet, and a useless know-nothing,” he said. “Quinby, I ought to turn you off this second. Don’t you know you are not to bring an unaccompanied female in to see me?Ever?”
Henrietta raised her brows. “I thought unaccompanied females visited you all the time.”
“Not here,” Darien said, taking her arm and steering her away from the window. “Henry, you pea goose, didn’t you bring a chaperone? Don’t you know what this could do to your reputation?”
“James is outside,” Henrietta said, lifting her chin, “and I didn’t have time to swing round for a maid. This is a matter of life and death, Darien!” The familiar address slipped out, but she did not beg his pardon. Had he just called herHenry?
“A matter ofyourlife and death if your father thinks he must force you to marry me.” Darien turned to find his sullen servant had slunk away. “Rufie!” he called in a thunderous summons. “Perry, you worthless sot! Why aren’t either of you in the library for once? I need you.”
Henrietta grabbed the ruffles of his shirt and tugged. “There isn’t time,” she said in a rush. “You must listen to me. I was just at?—”
“Rufie!” Darien bellowed again, then focused on Henrietta. “What is the matter? Is someone hurt?”
“You’re going to be hurt!” she exclaimed, pushing his chest. This expanse was very firm, very broad, very warm beneath her hands. “You must leave at once! Your estate—one of your father’s homes—perhaps the Continent— Oh, Rutherford—that is, Mr. Bales. Hello.”
Rutherford rushed into the room, buttoning a black coat. Henrietta blushed and tried stepping away, but Darien kept hold of her arm.
“I regret to say that your cousin is about to be called out in a duel,” she said, knowing Rufie at least would take proper measure of the situation. “You must help him get away before this awful event can transpire. He could be killed, or worse.”
“Or worse?” Darien said, lifting a brow.
“Yes, worse,” Henrietta cried, turning toward him. “Do not give me that supercilious look of yours. I have just been atHighcastle House to see Lady Celeste, and she told Lord Alfred that you are the father of her baby, and he means to call you out and…andshootyou.” She put her hands over her mouth as a sob welled up. This was unlike her. She was not at all prone to vapors.
Darien pulled her into an embrace as Henrietta fought down her emotion. “You must leave town,” she sniffled. “I don’t want you to die.”
At last, he had an appropriate response. She felt the tremor run through his shoulders. Then, as she lifted her head to hunt for her handkerchief, she saw that he was holding in laughter.
Another man strolled into the room, in a shabby suit with his hair uncombed. “Who wants to shoot Daring this time?” he inquired.
“Thistime?” Henrietta echoed. “This is no laughing matter,Daring! How can you be amused by this, you exasperating man?”
“Henry, do not put yourself into such a taking,” Darien replied. “I am in no danger from Freddy. He couldn’t hit me with a pistol if he were standing where Perry is, and he won’t be idiot enough to choose swords. In fact I doubt very much he’ll have the liver to call me out at all. He’ll want to settle it with fisticuffs, and I’m rather handy with my fives.”
Henrietta stared. “You aren’t at all afraid he’ll kill you?”
“Not in the least.” His lips twitched. “But I appreciate your concern.”
Henrietta sank into a chair. “Well, I did not expect this,” she said. “And here I thought duels were a matter of some gravity.”
“I’ve had my share of them and always escaped,” Darien informed her. “Does Freddy know about the third man? He’s the one he ought to set his sights on. From what I understand, he’s the reason Celeste staged her whole Cheltenham tragedy in the first place.”
A clatter came from a side table as Perry knocked over a vase. “Beg pardon?” he stuttered. “A third man, you say?”
“She said quite clearly you had ruined her,” Henrietta said. “We all heard.”
“But what did she say about the babe? Will she accept my arrangements for it?” Darien pressed.
“We did not exactly have the opportunity for a thoughtful discussion, due to the threats of vengeance and blood,” Henrietta retorted. “But I believe she said her darling would have her but for…er, your progeny.”
“She said that?” Perry bumped against a cushioned chair and then sat down in it. Rufie frowned at him, and Henrietta wondered whether the man was foxed.
“Have you two met?” Darien said. “Henry, my schoolmate and hanger-on, the disreputable Mr. Peregrine Empson. Perry, Miss Henrietta Wardley-Hines, reformer.” He went to a small shelf filled with bottles, above and below it rows of books. “Drink, anyone?”
“Heavens, no, Darien,” Rufie said. “It’s not even noon.”
“God, yes,” Perry said. “A tall draught of whatever you’ve got.”
“Cognac,” Darien said, lifting a decanter. “Henry?”
