“Ten paces,” Hugo agreed.
The Bartletts moved off to one side, Josiah’s eyes bright with vengeance, as Hugo and Miles met in the center of the natural oval. The two gentlemen nodded to one another before turning and beginning to mark their paces, striding away from each other.
Despite the agreement that had been made, a faint bristle of unease prickled over Hugo’s skin. He doubted there was any situation more vulnerable, aside from declaring love to a woman without knowing if she returned the feeling, than walking away from a man with a pistol, back turned.
After ten paces, Hugo turned around, barely able to see Miles through the rain that slanted down. The baron was a vague, shadowy shape, which did not exactly inspire confidence.
I hope he fires his dumb shot up in the air.
It would be far too great a risk to try and fire to the side of one’s opponent in these conditions.
“Challenger first!” Hugo called out.
“Very good, Your Grace!” Miles called back.
An unnerving moment later, there was a tiny flash of light and the cracking echo of a shot firing. Instinctively, Hugo braced for pain, just in case he had been tricked by the baron.
When the pain did not come and he realized he was unscathed, Hugo smiled and raised his own pistol in the air, firing the shot that would end this disagreement altogether.
“Are you satisfied?” Hugo shouted, lowering his pistol.
“I am,” Miles replied.
“Do you relinquish your claim to Lady Evelyn?” Hugo had to be certain.
“I do, Your Grace,” Miles answered. “She is yours. I give you my blessing.”
Hugo did not like to speak of her as if she were property, something owned, but none of that would matter once they all left Hyde Park. Evelyn would be free, andhewould be free to marry her. If that meant using some language that he did not entirely agree with, then so be it.
“What?” Josiah roared. “No! No, I forbid it!”
Hugo grimaced in the gloom; he had suspected it might not be as easy as a gentlemen’s agreement.
“I will not be marrying her,” Miles insisted. “The engagement is broken, Lord Townshend.”
“No! You do not get to decide!” Josiah bellowed louder, a mess of shadows converging ahead of Hugo.
There seemed to be some manner of struggle, grunts and shouts drifting through the pattering of the rain. Hugo squinted and swept the water from his eyes to try and get a better view, but it was impossible to see what was happening.
Adjusting his grip on the pistol, he walked forward.
“Iwill have my satisfaction!” Josiah cried out. “If you will not defend my family’s honor, then I shall!”
Close enough now, a splinter of true fear ricocheted through Hugo’s body as he saw the shape of Josiah whirl around, a pistol in hand. Not one of Hugo’s, for Miles still had that in his grip, but another. Either Josiah had taken it from Miles’ pistol box, or he had come prepared to put an end to Hugo, one way or another.
“You cannot have her!” Josiah’s eyes were wild, his expression contorted into a monstrous mask of hatred.
There was nowhere Hugo could go. He was too close to avoid being shot if Josiah had the foolishness to fire.
Just then, a figure stepped between them, hands up, putting himself between the end of the pistol and Hugo. A figure that Hugo would not have expected to intervene at all.
“Enough, Father,” Luke snarled. “If you want to shoot the duke, you shall have to shoot me first.”
Josiah seemed to falter. “Stand aside, Luke!”
“I will not. As I said, if you want to kill him, you will have to kill your heir first,” Luke insisted, his tone hard.
“But… but he has insulted us!” Josiah’s voice weakened and, over Luke’s shoulder, Hugo could see the pistol wavering in the old man’s hand.
