The Wedding Duel

by Katy Madison

  Victor's brown eyes studied him as he spoke gently. "You know, Keene, killing me will not assassinate your troubles."

  "Yes, but no one else would dare speak of them."

  "So it is the reminders that are a problem, rather than the problems themselves." This time Victor's tone held sarcasm.

  "No, it is that you are so deep in my concerns, it makes me deuced uncomfortable."

  "I am deep in George's concerns. Ow!" Victor winced as Keene rubbed a wet flannel over the freshly exposed wound. "You have no need to cause me pain to ease yourself."

  "I'm cleaning you. Do you have another jacket?"

  "Not in that bag. I have a fresh shirt and some linen for a new bandage."

  "I daresay I must loan you one of my own. Do contrive not to bleed upon it."

  "Deuce take it. I should not bleed upon anything if you had not shot me."

  The initial wound was a puckered round hole that was half healed, but two fresh slashes across it and the angry red flesh around it showed the questionable aid of the surgeon. Keene deeply regretted the duel, but what could he do about it now? Perhaps if Victor found a good woman to wed, Keene could assuage his guilt by believing in the curse and reminding his friend that he'd played a small part in the deed.

  But to seek a wife among the cits? Victor had a title, he could look as high as he wanted. It could only mean one thing. "You have decided money shall bring you happiness."

  "It shall keep my home in repair. It's not a choice, Keene. I go deeper into the cent-percenters each day. I must find an heiress who will tolerate me."

  Keene knew his friend had inherited an estate in disrepair. Several years ago Victor had made him feel ashamed by implying that Keene had no knowledge of responsibility. Ashamed and misjudged, because Keene had more knowledge of fending for himself than most young gentlemen. But he'd always kept his circumstances to himself—but then, so had Victor.

  Keene turned away. Nothing he could do would help. He couldn't offer Victor a loan or bail him out with moneylenders. In part, Victor's application for aid had begun a rift between them many years before.

  "For heaven's sake, what are you brooding about now?"

  "Forgive me, I have nothing to concern me, of course."

  "I already know the worst, so you might as well tell me your thoughts. What do you mean to do about Sophie?"

  At one time Keene would have told Victor anything, had told him much more than most, but a lot of things had happened since that time. He moved across the room to retrieve Victor's bag. "I mean to do nothing."

  "And live as your father did, with the constant reminder? Or do you hope that her child resembles her?"

  Keene felt the floor under his knees. He dimly registered surprise. He had only meant to bend over to pick up the bag. But since he was kneeling on the ground, he fumbled for the catch. He couldn't see the bag's contents. He wanted to talk of anything but Sophie, but he couldn't form another question to save his life. He finally accepted the inevitable. "I should not fault a child."

  "For you will have much in common with it."

  "But she is not with child."

  * * *

  Keene had led her into the house, brushing snow off her cloak before opening the door for her. He instructed the footman to send Letty to her room. He'd brushed his lips across her forehead and said, "I need to check on Victor. You should tidy up and return to the drawing room. I daresay we have both been absent far too long."

  Disappointment wafted through her. Sophie couldn't even have said why. She climbed the stairs to her room. She could feel Keene watching her as if he would redirect her if she strayed from the prescribed path.

  On one hand she was glad he was concerned about her welfare, concerned enough to follow her into the cold. And she was glad he'd finally decided to give her a real kiss. She rubbed her lips absently as if she could recapture the feel of his mouth on hers. On the other hand, she wished he was following her to her room. She was impatient to learn where his kisses and caresses would have led if she hadn't whispered his name, if she hadn't panicked.

  Although the truth be known, she was inclined to panic around him, like the time she had fallen in the river. She'd been about to remove the sodden heavy skirts weighing her down, but Keene had been there on the bank. She'd tried to tell him to leave, but water filled her mouth, and the current, rain swollen and much swifter than normal, tugged her under.

  She'd resurfaced sputtering, and the thought of exiting the water minus her clothes had been almost as frightening as drowning. Although after he'd pulled her from the river, she couldn't pinpoint why she had been so frightened of losing her skirts in Keene's view. Except there had been something more powerful at work, something in the way he'd looked at her sopping-wet bodice.

  All of it had been terribly confusing at the time. She'd been furious with herself for getting in such a predicament. If she had emerged from the water half naked back then, would there have been a similar episode to the one that had just happened outside in the snow?

  In her room, Keene's valise rested near the door. The sight of it sent an odd shiver through her. He would be sleeping with her this very night, and whatever had started outside would be finished. She grabbed the bedpost, suddenly feeling lightheaded and weak in the knees.

  No! She did not want the odd sensations residual from her fall from the horse to interfere with this day. That was her last thought as the floor rushed up to meet her.

  EIGHT

  Victor stared at Keene's back. Now that he had broken the man's composure, he regretted it. He shifted on the bed. He felt lightheaded and weak. He wasn't sure his legs would support him, but he slid from the bolster anyway. Pressing his hand hard against the washcloth he held over his wound, he took shaky steps across the floor. He wanted to sink down and lie on the carpet beside Keene, but then he would have to stay there, because there would be no way he could find the strength to stand again.

  "No chance at all she could be bearing your brat?"

  Keene shook his head and rummaged in the valise. Victor put his hand on his shoulder.

  Keene stiffened.

  "You are angry with her."

  "I cannot be angry with her." The tightness of his voice belied Keene's feelings.

  Victor awkwardly dropped to a knee. "You can and should, but do not allow it to fester. Trust me, I know. A festering wound is worse than a bleeding wound. Except that if I bleed to death, I should wish for you to blame that butcher of a surgeon."

  "God forgive me, I thought George was the only one among us with honor."

  "We all have honor, Keene. What we do not have is compassion. Although I think you have exhibited more than George or I. Now, tell me what you mean to do about Sophie. For you would not wish to give her the treatment your father gave your mother. Or do as George is doing to Amelia."

  "My father loved my mother, as George loves Amelia more than life. I have only the blow to my dignity to consider."

  Victor disagreed. He doubted a blow to Keene's dignity could bring him to his knees, but as he spoke, Keene regained his composure by perpetuating one of the illusions that kept him sane. If Keene wanted to believe he didn't care about his wife, Victor wouldn't challenge him on it. "So what shall you do with her?"

  "I cannot take her to London. I will not have the whispers and speculation. If she is very far along, everyone would know that I could not have fathered her child."

  "Why not?"

  "It's two days of travel here. My name is entered into the betting book at Waiter's nearly every day since the little season started."

  "No doubt you were uncommon lucky."

  "'Tis not luck. I doubt my finances are much better than yours."

  Victor pulled back. Keene's father was rumored to be quite wealthy. But then, the baron had in many ways cut his son off. Or the man who was not his son.

  Victor shook off his surprise at Keene's admission. He didn't have the energy to do more than concentrate on the problem at hand. He
knew better than most that Keene feeling powerless was tantamount to loosing a starving lion among a herd of gazelles. He'd snap off a head before he thought. "But how shall you treat her? What will you expect of her?"

  "I have always known her to be honest. I expect that she will not attempt to foist off this child as mine. In return I shall never mention, nor show by word or deed, that the baby is not mine. She almost told me. She spoke of her parents' desperation about her situation and that she promised to accept any reasonable offer."

  "Well, then, you must tell her that."

  "How should it be honest if I tell her beforehand I know the child is not mine? She should behave as she will and let her true colors fly."

  "If she pretends the child is an early arrival, what then?"

  Keene shook his head. "I won't allow it." He stood and pulled Victor to his feet. "You need to be abed."

  "Amelia should have told George."

  "She assumed he knew."

  "But then, she doesn't speak out."

  "Why didn't you marry her?"

  Victor closed his eyes. "She knew I could not."

  Keene halted. Victor saw a mirror of his own emotions in the pain and yearning on Keene's face. "Where is Sophie?"

  Keene shook his head, as if warding off deeper emotions. "I sent her to her room. She was wandering about in the snow."

  "You had better go to her."

  Keene pushed him toward the bed. "I need to rebandage your shoulder."

  "Go on, I shall yank on the bellpull."

  Keene looked torn. He pressed the fresh bandage material against Victor's shoulder and quickly wrapped it around, tying the ends. Victor pressed his palm over the wad of material, while Keene heaped all the pillows against the headboard.

  "I can't go to her. I very nearly took her in the snow. If she hadn't . . ."

  Victor studied Keene's wild-eyed look. The man needed to realize there was a reason his control was slipping.

  "She didn't know that you would ask her to be your wife, did she?"

  "No, she had no idea."

  "Then whatever she did, she did not know it would affect you."

  "Are you my wife's advocate?"

  "Treat her kindly, for I do not think she meant to wound you." In fact, he suspected Sophie adored her husband. But then, what woman didn't?

  * * *

  Victor was tempted to ignore the scream. But it turned to hysterical pleas for help. Even he could not sit back. Reluctantly, he opened his door and moved down the hallway.

  He didn't think Keene would mistreat his wife, but then, Victor had joked about beating her. Perhaps Keene had taken him seriously.

  A maid ran to him. "Oh, my lord, she is dead. My Sophie is on the floor, cold as ice. Saints preserve us." The maid's voice rose and fell in an unstable cadence.

  Victor rather hoped not. In any case, it wouldn't do to create a stir. If Keene had killed his pregnant wife, Victor would prefer to have enough time to alert George so they might have a fighting chance of getting him to the coast. Not tolerating it took on a whole new meaning.

  "Calm down. Take me to her."

  Letty led him to the room. Victor crossed the floor to the crumpled form. He took her hand in his. Sophie did feel like ice, but she had just returned from outside. He also saw the soft rise and fall of her chest, the flair of her delicate nostrils as she breathed.

  The maid was rocking in the doorway. "I have to go tell them. Oh, Lord, on her wedding day, no less."

  "She's not dead." The immediate problem was preventing the maid from alerting everyone to Sophie's condition. Whether or not she had been knocked out by an irate husband or fainted due to her pregnancy made little difference.

  "She's cold as death, she is. Oh, Lord, how shall I tell her mother?"

  "Do not tell her mother. Sit down and regain your composure."

  He rubbed Sophie's hand. He would have lifted her into the bed, but with his shoulder he could not. He didn't see any evidence that Keene had followed his wife to the room. The cover on the bed was pristinely smooth. Of course, if he only intended to beat her, he might not have availed himself of her charms.

  "Sophie, wake up."

  The maid clasped her hands in front of her mouth. "Lord Almighty, sir."

  "I assure you, she is just fainted."

  Victor heard footsteps in the hallway. The last thing Keene needed was the rumors of another man in his wife's bedroom within hours of the ceremony. "Shut the door, and be quick about it, miss."

  The maid did his bidding, and she also slipped out in a few minutes when he sent her to fetch Keene. Sophie began to stir.

  "Are you all right?" asked Victor.

  Sophie blinked. "What happened?"

  "You tell me. Did Keene strike you?"

  Sophie shifted, sat up and leaned her shoulders against the bed. She frowned. "Keene would never hit me. I think I fainted."

  "Do not be so sure. A twelvemonth ago I shouldn't have thought he would shoot me."

  "He shot you?" Sophie's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Why?"

  "You shall have to ask him. Come, can you stand?"

  Sophie blinked. "Why would he shoot anyone?"

  "Let me help you stand."

  Sophie shook her head and looked at him. "Did he blacken your eye, too?"

  "No, George did that."

  She allowed him to help her to her feet. Victor kept his arm about her waist as he led her to a chair. He wondered if he should have sent for her mother instead of Keene. He knelt by the chair.

  "You three have a very strange friendship."

  "It has been under much strain lately." Victor wondered at the loyalty he felt even now.

  "I do hope that none of this is because of me. I should not wish to create any problems."

  The only problem Victor knew of with her was the very private one he had overheard. If he could urge her to be honest, perhaps Keene's marriage would not end in a state like George's. The trouble was, he only had a few minutes of privacy before Keene showed up, and he would not appreciate the interference.

  Victor wasn't about to rest on a noble precept such as whether or not Sophie did the right thing without being told. "Madam," How strange it felt to address her in that fashion. "I would implore you to confide in your husband."

  Sophie looked confused.

  "I know it is quite bold of me to offer advice, but I know Keene. He will forgive you anything if you just tell him of it. You should tell him the reason you fainted."

  "I should?"

  "Do not attempt to deceive him. He will not have it."

  "I would not."

  "Then you have already told him?"

  "Told him what?"

  Victor shook his head. He hated to be so blunt about it. "Do not speak of this to anyone, but George's wife was with child when he married her."

  Sophie's forehead crinkled. "But what does that have to do with me?"

  He finished in an urgent whisper, "Not his child."

  She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, my."

  "Yes, so you see."

  "Is that why Mr. Keeting drinks so much?"

  "Well, yes, for he did not before." They were getting off the topic and Victor was anxious to convince her to follow a different path than Amelia had chosen. "But Keene . . ." Victor searched for a delicate way of saying it. "She did not tell him."

  Sophie whitened. She blinked, her large blue eyes filling with tears.

  Ah, so he was getting through to her. "So you must be totally honest with Keene. You must tell him why you fainted. Do not deceive him. The accident should not trouble him so much as the attempt to hide it, for he would never forgive the lie."

  "But—"

  "Do not tell him I said anything."

  Sophie swallowed hard and squeezed the hand he still held. "Thank you."

  The door opened and Victor hoped they did not look as guilty as he felt.

  Something sinister in Keene's expression did not bode well for that hope. "Come to fetch
that jacket?"

  Victor dropped Sophie's hand and stood. "Your wife fainted, sir. I heard her maid call for help."

  Keene's gaze lighted on every detail, from Victor's posture on his knees to his open shirt. But once Keene's gaze landed on his wife, his face softened. "Are you all right, Sophie?"

  She nodded and gave a hesitant glance at Victor before she said, "I have had some dizzy spells of late. You see, I—"

  "I will leave you in your husband's hands," interrupted Victor.

  Sophie blushed and looked away.

  He backed to the door. Had they forgotten his presence in their midst? Either way, Keene deserved to hear his wife's confession in private.

  The door clicked shut after Victor left the room.

  Alone together, Keene wasn't sure he wanted to hear. His heart pounded in his throat and unlike earlier in the snow when he had been caught in desire, this time dread and yearning churned into lumps inside him. He turned around the chair at her dressing table and sat in it, facing his bride. "Go on."

  "I should not have done it I suppose, but I thought Papa had bought the horse as my marriage gift."

  This was not where he expected the conversation to lead. He heaved a sigh of relief.

  "But it was really the other horse, and I did not know."

  "Know what?"

  "That she wasn't broken. I've fallen from a horse before. But this time I've had these dizzy spells." Sophie stared at him earnestly.

  Keene felt the world slide. "Are you saying you fainted because of a fall from a horse?"

  She nodded.

  Keene took a stab in the dark. "I suppose the inability to keep your breakfast down is attributable to the fall, too."

  "No, that was nerves. You were not here yet, and I didn't know that I hadn't angered you beyond reason. I feared you no longer wanted to marry me." She looked down.

  Keene stood and pushed the chair out of his way. He took a step toward her.

  She flinched.

  He wheeled about, feeling sick to his stomach. How was it she flinched when he moved toward her? He wouldn't hurt her. He had never raised his hand against any woman. His father had at least taught him that much honor.

  "How did you know that I was sick this morning?"

  "Only this morning, Sophie? Come, you must do better than that." She meant to deceive him. She meant to pretend that the child she bore was his. He wanted to throw something.

  He wanted to grant her the fuel to perpetuate her little deception, yet he respected himself too much to be a willing participant in her trickery.