by Clare Jayne
His frown faded and he nodded to her and left.
As soon as he was gone her maid said, “Miss Amelia, what are you planning? After what you’ve just escaped, I won’t let you go anywhere without me.”
“Then you may be reassured,” she said. “You, McGillis and Darrow will all be accompanying me tomorrow morning.”
Walker failed to look the least bit reassured. “And where will we be going, Miss?”
Amelia decided to save that fact for the last minute and wondered what was the best outfit to wear to a duel.
* * *
Brightford got dressed at the appointed hour and found Alex waiting for him downstairs with a long face, ready to act as his second in the duel. He took no satisfaction in what lay ahead; indeed, given that he had seen what an excellent shot Elborough was, he could have no certainty of surviving beyond the next hour. However, he was certain that Elborough would not give up on his obsession with Miss Daventry; if he could not marry her then, given the chance, he would find a way to harm her.
“Alex, if Elborough should kill me, will you promise to look after Miss Daventry? Elborough might try again to force her into marriage if I am not there.”
“I promise.” Alex put a hand on his shoulder. He had tried to talk Brightford out of this last night and, after getting nowhere, seemed resigned but his worry showed in his eyes. “As long as you will promise to do your best not to let that happen.”
“Happily.” He put more confidence into his tone than he felt. “I have a strong desire to wed and I do not want to let down the lady in question.”
He thought of Miss Daventry as they left the house, hoping that, whatever the outcome today, she would be safe for the rest of her life.
* * *
Elborough’s expression was almost amusing when he saw Amelia, rather than Mr Brightford, emerge from the carriage.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, walking up to her, his presence bringing back all the fear she had endured during her abduction.
Amelia felt McGillis step closer to her. He had a gun of his own with him, which reassured her that the Duke could not threaten her again. He could, of course, kill her but she was counting on his twisted feelings for her preventing this. “I am here to fight a duel,” she said. “Can someone explain the rules to me?”
“This is ludicrous,” Elborough’s second – a man she did not recognise – said.
“Where is Brightford?” the Duke asked and his expression made Amelia have to, once again, reassure herself that she was safe before she could answer him.
“He is not here and I am. Your only chance of a victory today is against me. Now where are the duelling pistols and what should I do?”
Elborough explained the rules, ignoring the heated objections from his friend and from Amelia’s servants. The duel began and, as Amelia took the required twenty paces away from the Duke, she wondered if this was in fact as good a plan as it had seemed last night. He had wanted to marry her. He could not shoot her. Could he?
Amelia turned, pointed the gun about a foot above Elborough’s head and shot. The gun jolted her backwards and she fell to the ground just as another shot sounded. She looked behind her and saw the bullet embedded in a nearby tree at chest height. She stared at it in disbelief then turned to the Duke, who was walking towards her, McGillis and Walker also running over the grass to her side. Elborough held out a hand to help her up, which she ignored, demanding, “Were you aiming for my heart?”
He gave a shrug. “It seemed appropriate.”
She got to her feet on her own as a familiar carriage came into view and pulled up near to the group, Mr Brightford and Mr Alexander Fenbridge emerging from it and taking in the scene.
“What is going on?” Mr Brightford asked, moving to her side. “Miss Daventry, why are you here? Are you hurt?”
“I am well,” she said, brushing twigs and leaves from the back of her pelisse, then added in a light tone she did not feel, “I just fought a duel and nearly died.”
Brightford was still staring at her, as if unable to comprehend the words, when she took his arm and looked back at the Duke of Elborough. “Should you ever meet a woman who shows the slightest inclination towards marrying you,” she told him, “I will be waiting to inform her of exactly what manner of reptile you truly are.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
MR BRIGHTFORD stood opposite Amelia in the drawing room the next day, the curtains open and letting in a golden glow of autumnal sun. He got down on one knee. “Miss Daventry, would you...?”
“Yes,” she said at once, feeling as if she had been waiting for this moment for most of her life.
He looked up at her with a frown: “I have an entire speech prepared with compliments and a rhyme.”
A rhyme? Mr Brightford? This she must hear. “Excuse me, sir. Pray, continue.”
“With your hair as dark as night and eyes like a sunny morning sky, you fill all the hours of my world ...”
“That is beautiful,” she said, smiling at the thought of him sitting composing a speech for her.
“Alex helped with the day and night simile.”
“You are both very talented.”
“You would make...” He hesitated and frowned. “I have forgotten the next part.”
“Was it along the lines of ‘will you marry me’?”
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he looked up at her. “It was an extremely long-winded but elegant version of that.”
“Then my answer, Mr Brightford, is yes.”
He got up a little awkwardly and she caught his hand to steady him. He held onto it and put his other arm round her waist.
Feeling a bit breathless at his proximity and the feelings his touch provoked, she said, “Should you recall more of the compliments later do tell me.”
“I have the whole thing written down at home.” His hand was warm against hers and he stroked her fingers.
She swallowed. “I look forward to your recitation.”
He kissed her and she put her arms around his neck, holding onto him, as the world dissolved into the most delightful sensations. It was better than anything she had known and it occurred to her that she had a lifetime of such kisses ahead of her.
As she opened her eyes she gazed at his beloved face and said, “About that rhyme...”
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