The Seducer

by Madeline Hunter

  “He was very smitten. She must have worked her wiles on him.”

  “Well, it changes nothing.”

  The figure of the chevalier appeared again. He was not alone this time. A small assembly surrounded him. They all strode toward the tree.

  Tyndale watched. “The idiotic, French fool.”

  “Perhaps you would like to stand down,” Daniel said.

  “The hell I will.”

  The group drew near. The faces of Vergil and Adrian and Hampton grew clear. A diminutive figure broke through their ranks from the rear and ran across the grass, skirts hiked high so she could move fast.

  Diane looked like an angel descending on the morning’s light. Daniel’s heart swelled with joy at the sight of her. He strode forward and opened his arms to receive her.

  Her embrace warmed him as no sun could. He closed his eyes and savored the scent and feel of her. Her heart beat rapidly against his body as she clutched him.

  “Jeanette sent for the chevalier, and we came by coach, but I sent word to the others and they followed and caught up with us on the road,” she whispered in a rush, pressing her face to his shoulder, twisting to kiss him. “They came to stop this.”

  Daniel gazed over her head, to the faces of Louis and the Dueling Society. Each of them knew something about his argument with Tyndale, but only Louis knew it all. Their expressions revealed that they guessed this could not be stopped.

  They had not come to stop a duel, but to witness one and to ensure fair play.

  As they reached the tree, another figure appeared near the house. Paul trekked through the park, carrying a veiled woman in his arms. Without a word, he set Jeanette on the ground beneath the tree and she arranged her long shawl over her lap and lifeless legs.

  “She would not stay in London,” Paul said to Daniel.

  Louis went to the man holding the pistol box and gestured for it to be opened so the weapons could be inspected. Hampton came to Daniel and spoke lowly.

  “Your ship at Southampton—I sent word to the captain to leave with the tide and anchor off the coast. A boat will be waiting to row you out to her.”

  Diane’s head snapped around. “Why?”

  “Duels are accepted for gentlemen, madame. For your husband, however, if he kills the brother of a peer, there is no saying for certain that he will not hang.”

  “But there does not have to be a duel now. Tyndale cannot force one.”

  At Daniel’s gesture, Hampton retreated. Daniel held Diane closer and caressed her face. “If it is not finished today, it will be another day. He is as tenacious as I am and will find a means to kill me, honorably or not.”

  “Not if you tell everyone about him. Not if you denounce him for what he is and what he did.”

  “The fact that I can do so only means that the danger is immediate. Not only for me. That I can live with. He has proven that he might harm you too. I cannot allow that. I will not leave this place knowing that he may take revenge on me through you.”

  “There must be some other way.”

  “There is no other way. Tell me that you understand that. I do not want to face him knowing that you are angry with me, or that you believe this is a betrayal of my promise to you.”

  Worry trembled through her lithe frame. He felt it rise to a maddening level. Then it died as she conquered it.

  She gazed up at him and only love could be seen in her eyes. “I understand. I know this is not your choice.”

  He kissed her. Soothing peace and calm filled him as he lost himself in her. The whole world retreated and they were alone in the beautiful present, where he dwelled only with her, and where no dark past and no old hatreds could intrude.

  “There is something I must say to you,” he said. “You have stolen my heart. You are my world now. I love you so much it astonishes me.”

  “And you are my world. I told you last night that I know you love me. There is no doubt in my soul about that. Now, do what you must do. Should I leave? I do not want to watch this, but I cannot go if it might be—”

  If it might be our last minutes together. He should make her leave, but his awareness that it might be a final farewell hurt his heart. “It is your choice, darling. Women do not attend duels, but this is no normal duel.”

  “Then I will stay, if it will not interfere. If you make it my choice, I choose to stay with you.”

  She slowly extricated herself from his embrace. He was grateful she mustered the strength for that, because he doubted he could have let go on his own.

  She went to stand beside Jeanette. He walked over to the young men of the Dueling Society. Vergil appeared extremely sober, his blue eyes full of concern.

  “Is this necessary, St. John?”

  “It is necessary, I assure you.”

  Adrian looked more calm, but then Adrian had seen men die before.

  “The head or the heart, Daniel,” he said quietly with a small smile.

  “My horse is waiting,” Hampton said. “When it is done, ride for the coast immediately.”

  Daniel removed his coat and handed it to Adrian.

  Louis came forward.

  Tyndale waited out in the sun.

  “A cool head,” Louis said. “Sangfroid is essential.”

  Daniel looked at Diane and allowed his love for her to scorch his soul.

  Then he summoned the cold blood that Louis advised, and that would be necessary to survive.

  She could not bear to watch. She could not bear to look away.

  How calm everyone acted, as if such things were commonplace and one saw two men shoot at each other several times a week.

  The stoicism infuriated her. There should be some acknowledgment that a life would end soon.

  She prayed that it would not be Daniel’s.

  Tyndale chose his weapon from the box and Daniel took the other. The chevalier asked if the duel could be averted, and Tyndale snickered.

  Diane did not like the confidence in that reaction. She did not like the vacancy in Daniel’s expression any better. He should be angry and intense. Those devil eyes should be burning. Instead he appeared as if he were gazing out a window.

  The men began pacing away. Diane’s heartbeat slowed to the rhythm of their steps. Tyndale walked toward her.

  When he had paced six steps, a movement beside Diane distracted him. His gaze darted over to her hip even as he walked.

  Diane looked down to see what had caught his attention.

  Jeanette had lifted the veil from her face.

  Tyndale frowned. One could almost see his mind searching, as if prodded by something he did not understand.

  Suddenly he stopped walking and stared at Jeanette. Amazed recognition flared in his eyes.

  Jeanette returned a level gaze, while her hands rearranged the large shawl over her lap.

  It had only taken a few moments, but in that time, Daniel had completed his own pacing and turned. Now his pistol was aimed at Tyndale’s back.

  “Andrew,” Jonathan hissed in warning.

  Tyndale pivoted and faced the pistol. His own hung loosely at his side. He had not even completed the ritual steps. Unprepared, no longer confident, he fired.

  The sound made Diane jump. She stared, waiting to see Daniel fall. He did not even flinch. He still stood rigidly, legs apart, the gun in his hand.

  A horrible, long count passed with everyone immobile, watching, listening for the next explosion that would shatter the morning.

  Diane ceased breathing. It seemed that the whole world did. Daniel’s arm stiffened straighter. He was not at all distracted now. Despite his cool expression, burning lights flashed in his eyes.

  She guessed what memories and hatreds had called them forth. For an instant he was the Devil Man again, contented that he was about to fulfill his dream and send Andrew Tyndale to hell.

  His gaze shifted slightly. He saw her now. The sharp lights died and very different ones took their place. The strict line of his arm wavered.

  The
report of a pistol cracked the silence. A ball entered Tyndale’s body.

  Daniel stared in her direction, but not at Tyndale. She looked down in dazed confusion, to see what compelled his attention.

  Jeanette held a smoking pistol in her hand.

  As a crowd formed around Tyndale to check his state, Daniel threw his weapon away and strode over to Jeanette. He crouched beside her and eased the gun from her shaking hands.

  “You should not—”

  “Better it was me. As for how I did it, I will let heaven judge me. My mother will speak on my behalf, along with all the others he betrayed.” She patted his face. “Besides, I did not think you were going to do it. You had lost your heart for it.”

  He had no answer for that. Diane remembered the moment of wavering, and wondered if Jeanette was right.

  “Do not feel guilty, brother,” Jeanette whispered. “I am glad that he did not succeed in crippling us both for life. When they hang me, I will be more contented than I have been in years, knowing that you are happy and free.”

  “You will not hang.” He rose and clutched Paul’s shoulder. “Get her away from here, to Southampton and the ship. Now. Take her to France.”

  Paul scooped her into his arms and began striding away. Jeanette made him stop and gestured for Diane.

  Diane went over for her sister’s embrace. “We will see you soon,” she promised. “I do not think Daniel will mind visiting Paris now.”

  Jeanette looked over at her brother. “Is that true, Daniel? Is it finished?”

  “Yes, it is finished, darling.”

  As Paul carried Jeanette away, Hampton came over with Daniel’s pistol, peering into its chamber curiously. “It appears a little damp in there.” He pointed the pistol in the air and pulled the trigger. It sputtered rather than cracked. “Tyndale must have tampered with it. Louis is too inexperienced with guns to notice. Good thing we arrived when we did, or you were a dead man even if you had fired first.”

  “Don’t tell anyone. That pistol is all that stands between my sister and the gallows if she is caught.”

  “How is that?”

  “If she does not get away, you saw me fire. You saw me kill Tyndale.”

  Diane’s heart flipped. Alarm that Daniel was still in danger shuddered down her back. Suddenly Paul’s progress up the rise of the park seemed very slow.

  Hampton gestured over his shoulder. “I think it is safe to say that she will get away.”

  Louis and the other members of the Dueling Society had circled Jonathan and the servants. Their expressions said that no man would leave this estate for a good long while.

  Daniel’s eyes glistened. His arm stretched in Diane’s direction and she stepped into his embrace. “They don’t even know why she did it. They do not understand who Tyndale was to us.”

  “They know you,” Hampton said. “They trust that the story, when told, will exonerate you both. If not in the eyes of the law, at least in those of honor and justice.”

  “And you? You are the law’s man, Hampton.”

  He favored them both with one of his rare smiles. “Today I am your friend, St. John. We all are.”

  chapter 28

  The Marquess of Highbury appeared nonplussed as he received the news of his brother’s death. Julian Hampton told the story in his best solicitor’s voice.

  The marquess surveyed the visitors who had intruded on his London house. His lazy gaze drifted over the son of an earl and the brother of a viscount and the French chevalier. It came to rest on the least significant man in the study.

  “So, you are St. John. I heard the rumor of my brother’s doings with your cousin. My wife told me you stood down and married the girl. I try not to listen to her gossip, but it is so incessant that some leaks in anyway. Decent of you to handle it that way.”

  “Unfortunately, as you have just heard, your brother was not so decent,” Daniel said.

  Vergil, standing beside him, gave a subtle but sharp nudge.

  The marquess shook his head. “Abducted her, you say. Well, I always knew what I had in him.”

  Daniel doubted that, but the rest of the story, the oldest parts, would not be told in this room unless it became necessary. They had all decided that back in Kent.

  “You all swear it transpired as you say? That St. John’s pistol misfired and his sister shot to protect him when Andrew did not stand back?”

  Vergil, Adrian, and Julian all muttered vague assurances.

  “Who else was there, besides the two women? Hell of a thing, women watching a duel—”

  “Some of his servants,” Daniel said.

  “Well, they can be bought off.” He rose from his chair. “Gentlemen, my brother died in an accident. That is the story I will give out. He was at his property in Kent and died in a hunting accident.”

  Daniel did not doubt that a marquess could find a surgeon who would ignore that a pistol’s ball had entered Tyndale from the back.

  “I do not want the rest of this, the business over this woman, the duel, any of it known. I a pistol’s bury my brother quietly, with his good name intact.”

  “The local justice of the peace—” Hampton began.

  “Let me explain it to him. I relieve you of any responsibility, since officially you were not even there. The matter is in my hands now.”

  There was nothing more to say. Led by Louis, the Dueling Society took their leave and filed out of the study. Daniel was the last in line.

  “St. John,” the marquess said, stopping him.

  He turned and faced Tyndale’s brother.

  “I know about you. All that chattering gossip, you see. Know how you seduced your way into some of his circles, how you mesmerized certain ladies several years ago to get where you are. My wife spoke of you so much that I wondered if you were pursuing her.”

  “The marchioness and I have never met. Her world is too selective for me.”

  “I see to that. I don’t approve of these new notions of mixing the classes, as some do. It is merely a passing fashion, and one I will be glad to have end, as all fashions do.”

  One could hear the low rumble of a demonstration riding the breeze entering the open window. Its rise and fall mocked the marquess’s words.

  The marquess’s face fell. “There is more to this than I have been told, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, but believe me when I say that you do not want to know any of it.”

  “Then let no one know of it. If I hear any slurs on him, any hints of scandal because of this, I will have to crush you.”

  The four men who had just left already knew all of it, but they would be discreet. “I have no more interest in your brother. He is dead, and it is over. I cannot guarantee that some of his other sins won’t be exposed in time, however. If you truly knew what you had in him, you’d understand what I mean. If I were you, I’d lay aside some money to pay whomever is necessary to prevent that.”

  What a mess this library was.

  Gustave clucked his tongue as he worked his way along the shelves. He had been at it for hours, since waking from the deep nap his adventure had demanded. Since the footmen in this house would not let him leave, he had to do something.

  Examining St. John’s library took his mind off things too. Not entirely, unfortunately. Even as he read titles on bindings, he worried. What if Tyndale came looking for him? What if St. John’s sister went to the authorities? What if the little sparrow swore evidence against Gustave Dupré, even though he had risked his life to save her?

  The books had no organization. Unlike Tyndale’s library, they had all been read, however. On pulling a few out, he had seen that some even had margin notes.

  He moved along, critical of the varied subjects. St. John’s mind was that of an amateur, veering this way and that. No focus, no specialization. There was more poetry than Gustave approved of. At least the man seemed to favor the old French poets, and not the messy, meandering, emotional nonsense popular of late.

  “Have you f
ound what you are looking for, Dupré?”

  Gustave jumped. He turned to see St. John and Jonathan by the door.

  “I was only browsing to pass the time.” He pointed to the shelves. “It is customary to arrange them by some system. You would find that more efficient.”

  “They are arranged by a system. They are in the order in which I obtained them. The most recent ones are down here. For example, Volta’s paper on creating electrical effects from metallic piles is on the next to bottom shelf.”

  It appeared that St. John intended to explain himself. That boded well for how this unpleasant episode would end. Apparently there had been no murder, but rather negotiations. Now St. John was ready to rectify his criminal behavior rather than risk exposure.

  “Volta’s discovery is well known and your knowledge of it does not surprise me. However, you were aware that speculations regarding the effect of electricity on metals could be found in my library. That is more provocative.”

  “Not your library. It once belonged to my tutor, who was in correspondence with Volta and knew his theory before other scientists. He drew an image in his notebook, to show me how such a pile might work, and told me his ideas about how chemical and physical properties might be isolated once electricity could be produced at will.”

  “Are you saying that the rest was yours alone, built on these conversations with your tutor? But the other manuscript—”

  “A forgery. A fake. The rest of it was all a product of my imagination.”

  Gustave had held on to the slim hope that the theory had some merit, and that he had not invested his fortune and reputation in a total hoax. Despite Tyndale’s conviction that they had been duped, he had hoped that with a little experimenting, a little tinkering . . .

  He regretted having interfered with Andrew’s plan to kill this man. Right now he would shoot St. John himself if he could. The man had seduced him to ruin, and he had followed the lure as a dog tracks the smell of meat.

  The door opened and another man entered. It was Adrian, his secretary.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Adrian smiled at St. John.

  Really, it was too much.

  “Are you in this swindler’s employ? How diabolical is this plot?” The answer rushed in on him before the question was asked. “The experiment in Paris, the iron’s markings—you told him everything. Traitor! I will tell everyone about both of you. You will learn that Gustave Dupré has influence. You have ruined my fortune and now I will ruin you.”