It was not yet dawn, and he had hoped to leave the house without anyone noticing. He supposed he should have known, considering what had happened to his sister, that she would not simply let him depart for a duel without trying to prevent it.
Although, back then, it was Laurence who was injured in the defense of Octavia’s honor.
“As I told Evelyn, all will be well,” Hugo said in earnest, as he tried to prize his sister’s hand from his sleeve. “I do not intend to die today.”
“It is a duel, brother! With pistols!” Octavia snapped. “You do not get to decide the outcome. That is rather the point of a duel.”
He sighed. Rather than fight the grip on his sleeve, he put his arms around his sister and pulled her into a fierce hug. Of course she would be worried, of course she would fear the worst, but what choice did he have?
“I have to fight for her, Octavia,” he said softly. “I love her.”
Octavia clung on. “But I cannot lose you. Neither of us can lose you.”
“Hardly anyone dies in duels anymore,” Hugo told her, meaning it to encourage her.
Instead, she promptly burst into tears, sobbing in his arms, wiping her face on the shoulder of his tailcoat.
“I wish it did not have to be like this, but her father will not give his blessing,” Hugo said, his heart sore. “This is the only way that I shall be allowed to marry her, for he will not be able to argue with the result of the duel. The baron may not even attend, which means he will forfeit. That is as good as a win, Octavia.”
In truth, that was the very reason why he was not at all nervous about the early morning meeting by the Serpentine. He had seen the baron’s face last night. The gentleman had been terrified and, what was more, he had been forced into this duel by Josiah’s command, not his own.
He will not be there.Hugo did not want to call the man a coward, but he did not seem like the sort of fellow who wouldeverstand in a duel with someone else.
“I have to go, Octavia,” he said apologetically.
“I will come with you,” she tried to insist, pulling back. “Yes, I will come with you.”
Hugo shook his head. “You will not, my dear sister. You will stay here, in the drawing room or the kitchens if you cannot bear your chambers, and you will drink tea and you will wait until I return with fortuitous news.”
“You cannot forbid me,” she replied, her voice wavering.
“In this instance, I can and I must.” He smiled. “A duel is no place for a lady.”
Octavia’s brow furrowed in something like anger. “Do you really think this will change anything? You would be better off going directly to Evelyn’s home, stealing her away from there while everyone else is waiting for you to appear at the duel, and riding as fast toward the Scottish border as you can.” She paused, drawing in a breath. “Her father will not relent. If the baron does not show up, her fatherwillbe there, and he will stand in as a replacement if he must.”
Admittedly, Hugo had not thought of that. He knew the kind of gentleman that Josiah was, for he had encountered numerousamong society’s peers: they never did anything themselves. They complained and lamented and made idle threats, but they were not men of action.
Could it be that I have misread him?Hugo doubted it. The very reason that Josiah had put the responsibility on the baron’s shoulders was so he would not have to raise a pistol and risk his life himself. That was patently clear. But if pushed, might Josiah step in? Perhaps Matthew or Luke would, at the command of their father.
The first little shiver of unease tingled at the nape of his neck, creeping down his spine.
“I must go, Octavia,” he said more firmly. “I shall not be long. Please, do not fret, for if you fret then you shall make me nervous, and I cannot hold a pistol properly with a trembling hand.”
He mustered a bright smile that he did not feel, only to be met by his sister’s increasingly furious gaze. Her lower lip trembled as she stared at him and, with a shake of her head and a mutter of, “If you die, I shall never forgive you,” she turned on her heel and strode off into the drawing room. The slam of the door echoed through the house; a final display of her displeasure.
It has been so long since I have had something to fight for, dear sister. I am sorry that I have upset you, but this is something I cannot walk away from.
With a sigh and one last glance at the closed drawing room door, he took his pistol box from the side-table in the hallway and headed out.
Outside, a thin drizzle had begun to fall from the bruised pre-dawn skies. The driver gave him a solemn nod, the man’s hooded cloak giving him the chilling appearance of an executioner, as Hugo hurried into the carriage and sent up a quick prayer to the heavens that he might survive this.
The faint drizzle had become a downpour by the time Hugo reached Hyde Park. Leaving his carriage by the gates so as not to alert anyone to the activity that was about to take place, it was a matter of minutes before he was soaked to the skin, pinching water from his eyes as he trudged along the darkened pathways toward the Serpentine.
There was a place there that was well known among the gentlemen of society, where duels were fought and lost. The constabulary were also keenly aware of it, but they did not often interfere in the quarrels of high society, even if itwasillegal. Now and then, they would appear in an attempt to put gentlemen off dueling, but Hugo doubted they would bother on such a morning as this.
No one who did not need to would be out in this weather.
It was some time before he glimpsed the faint glow of lanterns through the dense bushes that surrounded the dueling spot. Ahorse nickered and the gruff voices of men could be heard, reigniting Hugo’s nerves.
