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“I understand how you’ve come by your opinion of me, but if you will just hear me—”
“Why? Why should I listen to you? Any of you?” she said with a sneer. “You’ve insulted this man for years, refusing to hear his side of things. He’s done nothing to earn your contempt, yet you’ve given him yours in full measure. And now you’ve determined me worthy of your contempt, as well.”
“Charlotte, that isn’t so,” Mélisande interjected. “You are a sister to me—don’t be fooled by this, this deceiver! Come with me. Please. I beg you.”
“It is you who are the fool and the deceiver!” Charlotte said, pointing a shaky finger at her. “You pretend to be my friend and call me sister, when the truth is you’ve done nothing but feed me lies! I know what you are!”
Mélisande blanched. Had Herrington revealed his suspicions to Charlotte? Was her secret about to be shouted to the world?
“You’ve done nothing but lie to me, Melly, as you’ve lied to everyone else,” Charlotte said. “But your time is coming. Soon, your sins will come to light and everyone will see you for what you are: a liar and a fornicator just like him.” She jerked her chin at David. “You deserve each other.”
“Charlotte!” Reggie thundered. “That’s quite enough!”
Mélisande saw that people had begun gathering along the path behind them, drawn to the disturbance. Their view was blocked by Reggie and David, but Charlotte’s voice had carried clearly on the night air.
Without another word, Reggie stepped forward and clasped his hand over her mouth. She bit
him as he attempted to drag her from the alcove. Finally, he was forced to pick her up off the ground, sling her over his shoulder, and haul her away like a sack of flour. She protested, kicking and screaming curses as he pushed his way through the spectators.
Herrington shook with silent laughter as he rose. He smiled at Mélisande, then turned to Alessandro and bowed. “Dawn. Tothill Fields.”
“If he does not kill you, I most certainly shall,” David growled as he stepped aside to let him pass.
Like reeds before the wind, the crowd parted for Herrington, closing ranks behind him, waiting to see what would happen next.
Retrieving his mask from where he’d tossed it before knocking Herrington to the ground, Alessandro helped Mélisande replace hers. Then they, along with David, departed.
A silent sea of curious eyes glittered from within the dark holes of countless masks as Mélisande passed, some beautiful, others grotesque, all unnervingly surreal in the flickering torchlight.
The susurration of whispers following their passage made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She longed to break into a run and escape the hollow stares, but gritted her teeth and walked at a stately pace, back straight, head high.
David rode home along with them, as Reggie had taken Charlotte home in his carriage. Once safely away, Mélisande told them everything.
“He is a dead man,” Alessandro stated, the chill of the grave in his voice.
“You’ll need a second,” David offered quietly.
In the light of the lamps lining the Row, Alessandro nodded acceptance, his face unyielding.
“I beg you not to do this,” Mélisande beseeched him. “You swore never to duel again over a woman, remember?”
“I made no such vow,” Alessandro answered. “I merely chose not to fight good, decent men over the honor of women who, in truth, had none. This is different. That man is neither good nor decent, and you, amora, are worth fighting for.”
“There is no need to do so! I will go to Uncle George tomorrow morning and petition against Herrington. He has no real proof!” She looked to David for support. “Tell him it isn’t necessary!”
David looked at her with sympathy. “It is absolutely necessary. He cannot be allowed to go unpunished.”
Darkness fell over the three as the carriage made the turn. Beneath its cover, Mélisande allowed herself the luxury of tears. Alessandro was going to leave England eventually anyway, but she would much rather it be later rather than sooner. If he killed Herrington—and she was sure he would—he would have to do so immediately.
There was also a risk that Herrington might kill him.
Either way, this duel meant that Alessandro would be taken from her far sooner than she was ready to accept.
When they arrived at her residence, the butler’s shocked exclamation made her run for the entryway mirror. For a long moment, she stared in frank dismay at the image in the glass before turning to face her companions.
Both men swore vehemently.
Her swollen cheek bore a small cut and a darkening bruise where Herrington’s ring had struck it high on the bone. It was plain to see where the beast had gripped her arms, as well, for his cruel fingers had left plum-colored, crescent-shaped marks in her flesh, and one of her wrists was ringed in deepest violet.
