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Alice pushed herself up in the bed, seeing that she was fully dressed still.
“Do you remember what happened?” Harold asked.
“I wrung the location of the duel out of Ruth and stopped it,” Alice said.
“And almost broke your neck falling from your horse,” Harold replied.
Alice put a hand to her injured head. “Really? I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you achieved your objective. I surrendered the duel. Conceded to Simon.”
An image flashed in front of Alice’s eyes. Harold stood with two swords in his hands, both poised to strike at Simon’s defenseless body like vipers.
“You were about to kill him,” she said.
“Yes. I was about to bring the duel to an end. You prevented that.”
“I’m glad. Are you not?”
Harold sighed. Standing, he tossed the cigar into the fire and then stood, hands on the mantle, looking into the flames.
“I did not want you to despise me. I knew that would be the result if I killed your brother.”
“But?”
“But, by not killing him. By walking away, I forfeited the duel. I gave up my honor.”
Alice wanted to scoff at the idea of something as abstract as honor being more important than a man’s life. But something in Harold’s manner stopped her, told her it would be a mistake.
“For me?” she eventually said in a small voice.
“For you,” Harold said, with resignation in his.
“And what does it mean?” Alice asked.
She pushed back the bedclothes and tentatively stood, keeping one hand on the bed lest she stumble.
“Simon will no doubt tell anyone who will listen that I ran away.”
“You did not. You turned your back on him and walked away.”
“It is the same thing.”
Harold turned and there was no little anguish on his face. Alice went to him and he embraced her. She buried her face in his chest, holding him tightly about the waist. The look of pain on his face had made her do it. The move had been instinctive, the need to comfort him when he was clearly suffering. She did not fully understand the cause of his grief. She was relieved that the duel had ended without a death. But it was enough to know that something was causing him pain.
“I am just glad both of you are alive. I don’t condone my brother’s behavior. But he is my brother. I don’t have much family left.”
“I know. And I did not seek his blood easily.”
Harold lifted her, carrying her to the chair. He sat, with Alice on his lap, her face nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. She savored the scent of him, the sweat of the duel’s exertion mixed with the cologne and the indefinable smell that was just him.
“Honor is important to me. During the war, it was the only thing that separated us from the French. The things they did in Spain would make your hair white. They were animals. But we fought with honor. The demands of honor are not always easy to fulfill. And they do not equate to an easy life. But to abandon it…that is what my father did. He stepped from the path of honor and pursued money above all things. A liar and a cheat. I always held myself to a higher value.”
Alice was beginning to understand. She had looked on the duel as the foolish hubris of two men unwilling to settle their problems in a civilized way. Simon and Harold’s feud had been childish in her eyes. But, now she had the beginnings of understanding.
“Your father was not a good man.”
“Simon accused him of ruining your father. I knew nothing of this but I can imagine it. He did not care for me or my mother. He cared only for himself. Now, it seems I have as little honor as he.”
