Page 32 of Pride of Lyons

“If you thought to exclude me from your duel, Thomas, you are sadly mistaken.” Lady Rochdale broke a piece of bread and buttered it enthusiastically. “I may not bear witness to it, but I will be here to support you and to comfort Lady Braeton while you are engaged.”

“Thank you, Joanna.” Thomas looked at her, his eyes showing his great affection for his sister. “I am happy you have come, for my sake as well as my lady’s.”

They all ate silently for a time, Honoria glancing around the table, waiting for God knew what argument to erupt. Lord Longford kept staring at Thomas after every spoonful of soup, his bristling animosity almost palpable. Gentleman that he was, however, he refrained from any further verbal censure of her husband in front of the ladies. Honoria wondered how long such restraint would last. The man obviously took issue with Thomas’s decision to duel. Perhaps his long-time friend could dissuade her husband from going through with the duel where she could not.

At last, conversations started up around the table, subdued to be sure, but a welcome change from the strained silence. Honoria asked Lady Rochdale about her journey and was asked in return how she found the Keep as a residence. Pleasant enough conversation, but everyone seemed on tenterhooks tonight. When at last dessert had been eaten, Honoria rose from her place. “Lady Rochdale, shall we retire to the drawing room?” She gave Thomas a swift smile. He was in for a dressing down from his friend if she wasn’t mistaken. Best leave them to it. “I am certain the gentlemen wish to enjoy some brandy before joining us.”

“With pleasure, my dear.” The lady followed Honoria as she headed out the door. “And do please call me Joanna. I am certain after this visit we shall be the closest of friends.”

As soon as Honoria and Joanna left, Thomas strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a hefty tumbler of brandy. God knew he was likely to need it in the next quarter-hour. “Gentlemen, please help yourselves.”

“About damn time.” Geoffrey snatched up the decanter and splashed the vintage brandy into another glass. He scowled at Thomas, tossed the contents of the glass down his throat, then slammed the cut-glass tumbler down onto the sideboard with a dull thud. “I now repeat, are you out of your mind?”

From the moment his friend had entered the Keep, Thomas had known he was in for a battle. Geoffrey had a great hatred of the practice of dueling and with good reason. His father had been killed in a duel when Geoffrey was fifteen. The shock of his father’s death and becoming Lord Longford so unexpectedly, with all its attendant responsibilities, had given his friend a deep-seated aversion to the code duello.

Naturally, Geoffrey would attempt to talk him out of his meeting with Danford. Still, it never occurred to him to have chosen a different second, for quite simply there was no one he would rather have at his side with such a task at hand. And no one to whom he would rather entrust Honoria’s welfare should he be killed. “Not in the least, my friend.” Thomas sipped more brandy, glad of the familiar burn. “Did you not read my letter in full?”

“Of course, I read it,” Geoffrey growled. “That’s why I’m here, to talk some sense into you.”

“I see.” Thomas twirled his glass, the light bouncing off the varying planes of the vessel throwing hectic sparkles all around the room. “So, you did read the section where I discovered Danford in the garden atop my wife?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t have cause to challenge him, Thomas. I’m saying you cannot duel to the death. Even if Danford doesn’t deserve to live, you do.” Glaring at Thomas briefly, Geoffrey grabbed the decanter and poured another hefty tot of brandy. “Will you jeopardize your life for the sake of taking your revenge on him?”

“If it was just a matter of revenge or even of honor, I might agree to throw away my shot, but not in this case.” Taking another sip of the brandy, Thomas hoped he could make his friend appreciate the gravity of the situation. “Perhaps when you fall in love and marry, Geoffrey, you will understand the compulsion one has to protect your beloved from all harm. Would you spare the life of a mad dog if it were threatening your loved one? I think not. That is what I am doing now.” Thomas glanced over to Mr. Pratt, who had been silent until now. “What is your opinion, doctor? I know you are bound by an oath to heal everyone within your power, but would you kill in order to protect someone you loved?”

Of smaller statue than the others, but with a face set in determined lines, Mr. Pratt sighed. “I give thanks I have never been put to that test, my lord. However, I have thought about it many times. I have a wife and daughters, so I understand your concern most clearly. If the gentleman in question has already attacked your wife,” the little man shrugged, “well, as you say, a mad dog is a danger one sees coming. To ignore it is foolish in the extreme.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t think you were so blood-thirsty, Pratt.”

“I’m not. Still, one has to be practical when one is a surgeon.” Mr. Prat set his fingertips together. “If there’s a limb so infected it will bring down the whole body, best to sacrifice it to save the rest of the body.”

“Braeton, do you believe, even after accepting your challenge and undergoing a duel, Danford would continue to pursue your wife?” Rochdale had wandered over to the sideboard and poured his own drink.

“His pursuit of her led to our marriage because I believed he would desist in his attempts to debauch her if she had my name and protection.” Thomas sighed. He’d grossly misjudged Danford. “I was obviously wrong. As long as he lives, it seems, she is in danger.” Never had he run across any man so obsessed with dishonoring a woman. Well, this man would be hard-pressed to pursue Honoria from the grave. “Therefore, Geoffrey, should I fall on the field of honor, I must have your word that you will then discharge my office and make certain Danford cannot accost my wife ever again.”

Eyes wide, his friend put his empty glass down. “You would have me challenge him over your death?”

Thomas gripped Geoffrey’s arm. “However you can do it, I beg you do not allow Danford the opportunity to attack Honoria again.”

“Is he such a good shot you need worry about it at all?” Geoffrey’s sobered face gave Thomas hope that the man finally had an inkling of the seriousness of the threat.

“I do not know.” Thomas regretted he’d not had time to correspond with others of his circle who might have shed light on Danford’s prowess with a pistol.

“He’s a fair shot, at best.” Rochdale’s voice brought Thomas and Geoffrey’s head turning toward him. “I’ve seen him at Manton’s shooting gallery several times.” His brother-in-law shrugged. “Unless he’s been practicing a great deal since yesterday, you’re likely to have nothing to worry about.”

Relief swept through Thomas as he clamped Rochdale on the shoulder. “Thank you for that. It does put one’s mind more at ease. And makes me realize I need to hone my skills as well.” He looked from one man to the other. “Would anyone like a little target practice tomorrow morning? I’ll arrange it now. We can assemble on the back lawn with pistols and ammunition and servants to load for us. Some wafers for the targets as well. Geoffrey?”

“I suppose I should keep up my skills, as well, if I’m to be your second.” Geoffrey tried to glare at him, but it missed the mark.

“I’ll take a crack at it, Braeton.” Rochdale sounded eager. Not that that surprised Thomas. His brother-in-law was ever up for sport.

Thomas turned to Mr. Pratt. “Do you shoot, doctor? You are welcome to join us.”

“I believe I will if you don’t mind, my lord.” The little man had a grim look on his face. “You’ve reminded me I need to be prepared, as well. Physicians are not exempt from affairs of honor.”

“Very well, then.” Thomas rang the bell. Best to give orders for the morning now. “I believe we’ve got ourselves a shooting party, gentlemen.”

The candle on the bedside table guttered as Honoria lay in Thomas’s arms, utterly sated and satisfied. He’d come to her chamber shortly after everyone had retired for the night, and she’d welcomed him wholeheartedly. Every second with him was precious now. Not knowing how many they would have gave urgency to all their time together, especially these moments of utmost intimacy. She prayed earnestly that a child might come of their brief joinings, although she’d not know for certain for some months. Perhaps too late for Thomas to know. After all, that had been the fate of his many times great-ancestor and namesake.