Page 107 of Scandalous

“Miss Fisher, is something the matter?” he asked, his eyes flickering around the room.

Sarah’s face burned. She must look and sound like a lunatic. “I’m fine, Sedgewick. I apologize for startling you.”

There was a long pause as his eyebrows crept slowly up his forehead. “Very good, miss,” he said, bowing before quietly shutting the door.

Sarah looked at the page. There were only a few sentences left. How bad could it be?

“When I met with d’Armand I larned he didn’t just want justice for his father’s death, he wanted revenge on me.

It shuld not have surprised me that Valerie had a child, but I am ashamed to admit it did. His name is Gaston and he is thirteen years old, Sarah. He is very handsome and looks much like I did when I was his age.”

Sarah’s lip twitched at his unconsciously vain comment.

“D’Armand holds title to him and Valerie and the only way to free them is to fight for them. I cannot leeve her a second time.

But that is not all. D’Armand has somehow learned the truth about his father’s death and I have been accused of murder. Any man who captures me will receive a substantial reward if he returns me to New Orleans to stand trial.

I am a fugitive, Sarah. I tell you this so you will understand why it is best for you if I go. I also tell you this because it is possible I will not leave—that I will die. If that is so, I would prefer you to know the truth in my own words.

Tomorrow I will meet d’Armand and we will dule for the freedom of my child, his mother, and myself and I will—”

Sarah grabbed the other sheets of paper and looked at each; there was no date anywhere on the letter. She lunged to her feet, and the pages fluttered from her limp fingers.

A duel? Had it taken place yet? Was it about to take place?

How could he do this to her?

“You arrogant ass!” Sarah ran for the bellpull and yanked it so hard the heavy velvet rope came off in her hand.

A duel? His son? What of the woman? Was he to marry her now? Why had nobody said anything to her? Surely Hugh would know, and if Hugh knew, Daphne must know. Why had none of them told her?

She stared at the sheets that lay scattered on her uncles’ expensive carpet, and fury blossomed inside her. How dare Martín make not only his decisions, but hers as well?

The door opened, and a footman stood in the doorway, his gaze dropping to the bellpull in her hands. “Yes, Miss Fisher?”

“Send word to the stables. I’ll want my uncles’ post chaise made ready.”

The man’s eyes flickered to the late afternoon sky outside the sitting room window.

“Post chaise, Miss?”

“Yes, post chaise.”

The young man hesitated.

“Do not worry. I will speak to my uncles. You will not get in trouble.”

The lines of worry on his forehead dissipated. “Very good, miss. Can I tell the coachmen how far you will be going?”

Sarah gathered up the sheets of paper before turning a grim smile on him. “Tell him our journey could be as short as Davenport House or as long as Eastbourne.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Martín wasn’t really surprised when he opened the door to Exley’s carriage and found Ramsay waiting inside it. The carriage was lighted with a small lantern, but Martín didn’t need to see Ramsay’s face to know he was angry.

Martín turned to Exley, who raised a slim, black-gloved hand.

“Don’t bother scowling and scolding, Bouchard. Ramsay did not hear about it from me.”