Page 65 of Rogue Lyon

“Oh, don’t say that, please, Nancy.”

“But perhaps Mr. Habsburg is too. Is he?”

“I have no idea. We never spoke of shooting or hunting.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t. He is a man of gentry, after all.”

And then, out of the mist, appeared a gathering of men in their Sunday best.

“Quick, behind here.” Nancy tugged Meredith behind an enormous hawthorn bush. “We can’t let them see us.”

Meredith pulled in a deep breath and then peered out. Weak sunlight was attempting to break through the mist and she could see several figures separated by twelve paces or so.

It took her a moment to single out Jules, but because he was tall and lean and always kept his spine rod-straight, she soon focused in on him. He held a pistol at his side and wore a black morning jacket and black trousers.

“Oh, he’s there.” She clasped her hand to her mouth.

“Where? Oh, yes.” Nancy was peering around the other side of the bush.

“Who are all the other men?”

“The Duke of Marlborough is in his top hat; he’s famed for forgetting to take it off when he goes indoors.”

“Yes, I see him.”

“And the others are seconds, I guess, hoping to either stop the duel or referee it. Oh, and I think the man with the medical case must be a surgeon.”

Meredith trembled and dragged her shawl tighter. What a senseless act this was. Attempting to kill or maim each other over a disagreement.

She wanted it to be over.

But she didn’t want it to be over…because what if Jules was killed when it was over?

How would she even be able to breathe?

Chapter Fifteen

Jules shook his head at the duke. “Is this absolutely necessary? It seems a frightful fuss over nothing.”

“You have insulted me and my family, so yes, this is necessary, Mr. Habsburg.”

“I really don’t see how going for a smoke on the terrace has landed me in such hot water and got you so bothered.”

The duke grimaced and a vein thudded in his neck.

“Can’t I just apologize for the misunderstanding and be done with it?” Jules held out his hand.

But the duke didn’t take it. If anything, he appeared angrier than ever. His cheeks were quite red now. “And how would I explain that to my distraught daughter?”

“But why is she so distraught? We spoke of embroidery, nothing more… Oh, and birds, and then I bid her goodnight and joined the ball for a dance with Miss Everleigh.”

“How dare you? How dare you twist history to suit yourself?”

“I am not. That is what happened. I swear. I didn’t lay a finger on your perfect daughter; she is totally intact.” He paused. “And if she isn’t, then it isn’t my doing.” A thought popped into Jules’s head. Was this why the duke’s daughter was taking this to the extreme? She was in a delicate condition and in search of a gentleman husband with whom to saddle the bairn? And if so, who was the chap who had lain with her? A servant? A groom? Someone she couldn’t marry, that was for sure.

“Grab your barking iron, man.” The duke nodded at Jules’s pistols, which the seconds had deemed of good quality. “And let’s get this done.”

Jules stared at him for a moment. Should he voice his suspicions about the man’s daughter? It was all making sense now. Why else would she have come up with such an outrageous lie about their time on the terrace?