“This challenge is ridiculous,” Anthony said.
McFall’s cold demeanour was more disturbing than his hot anger. “Your brother accepted the challenge. There’s nothing else to discuss.” He went to leave the library.
Anthony stepped in front of him. “You know this is a mistake.”
“The only one who made a mistake is Lord Patrick. He insulted me and humiliated me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Gloucester.” McFall strode out of the library, his heels clicking against the marble floor.
Anthony grabbed Patrick by the shoulders. “Why the hell did you accept the challenge? Are you barking mad? McFall was the best shooter in the Scots Guards, and he’s now in the Coldstream Guards. And your idea is to agree to duel with him?”
Patrick shrugged himself free. “He’s a bloody buffoon.”
“He’s a scorned husband with excellent aim and more than fifteen years of impeccable service in the army while you’ve never fired a shot without hurting yourself. You’ll be dead in a minute.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I’m cleverer than you think. Duels are illegal. I’ll go to Battersea Fields with the entire constabulary of London, and while McFall will be in trouble, I’ll be free.” Patrick winked. “Genius.”
The shock silenced Anthony for a moment. “Honestly, you’re depriving a village somewhere of an idiot. This duel will be considered valid and fair, because a well-respected military officer is involved. The entire constabulary will turn their backs and leave you alone. Do you have any idea of how many soldiers McFall saved? He risked his neck to retrieve wounded men from the battlefield, and just so you know, half of the police officers in London are former soldiers who worship him. No one will stop McFall, and if he asked one of the peelers to shoot you, they would bloody do it.”
Finally, Patrick lost his cocksure attitude. “But McFall won’t kill me, will he?”
“If you want to take the chance, be my guest.” Anthony ran out of the library, chasing McFall down the corridor. He ought to stop this nonsense. “McFall! You must listen to me.”
Working his jaw, McFall stopped, his nostrils flaring. “Gloucester.”
“I’m sure we can settle the matter in some other way.”
McFall lifted his chin, fists clenched at his sides. “I respect you, and I don’t have any quarrels with you. But your brother’s behaviour was utterly disgraceful.”
“I agree,” Anthony said, “but a duel is an extreme solution.”
“More than fair, Gloucester.”
“You’re a renowned shooter. My brother has never hit anything and has no military training. It’s not fair.”
“That’s not my problem,” McFall said. “Tomorrow. At dawn. Or I swear I’ll come here and shoot him in cold blood. And this is the last time we discuss the matter.” He bowed and walked away. The sound of his angry footsteps thundered.
Anthony returned to the library, half-wishing to strangle his brother. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Pale and shivering, Patrick flinched at the tone. “He overreacted.”
“You were ravishing his wife.”
“I’m not her only lover. Lady McFall has a string of lovers and so many affairs?—”
“How does that make your situation better? Bloody hell!” He rubbed his aching forehead. “Go to your room. We’d better get ready for tomorrow. We need a strategy and to practise.”
“You’re overreacting, too. He won’t kill me. He’s angry now. Tomorrow morning, he’ll understand a duel is madness, and I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll have those words engraved on your tombstone.”
