She cupped his cheeks in her hands, and gave him a look of haunted tenderness, her brows raised, and her mouth open.
“If I have not said it before, let me say it now. Thank you.” Her lower lip quivered. Her reddened eyes shone with more tears. “Thank you so much for rescuing me. My life is so, so much better than it could have been—would have been—if you had not.” Her thumbs stroked his cheekbones.
His throat tightened. He swallowed. He wished to ask for all the details of what had happened in her confrontation with Crewkerne, to know how she had escaped him, and to praise her for doing it. He wanted to assure her he trusted her, knew how horrible today must have been for her. To apologize for not being there to rescue her today, though it was not something he, nor any of them, could have foreseen.
For now, looking at the tender pleading in her eyes, he answered with all the sincerity in him. “It was my pleasure, as it will always be. I love you, and I will always be there for you.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t say she loved him as well. She never had, and he was beginning to think she never would. He told himself to be resigned to that. She had given him so much already—all he could ask for. He didn’t need to hear those words from her, not when her kisses were welcoming, and she melted into his arms with tender willingness. He could be—would be—content.
She pulled in a breath, and a tear escaped to run down her cheek. He tugged her toward him. She fell into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his cravat. He held her as she dissolved into tears. He pulled her up with him and took her to their bed. He rubbed her temples to ease her headache, loosed her hair from its pins and ran his fingers through the dark strands, stroked her back, and held her through her tears until she fell asleep.
He loved her. He would take care of her. Even if he should be killed, she would be taken care of—his makeshift will would help, and Frederick would make sure Daniel’s widow was cared for.
If he died on the morrow, he would be dying a happy man. He kept repeating that in his mind as he buried his face in her hair.
But nerves ate at him. He was resolved about the duel. It was the right thing to do. It was a part of his taking care of her.
But if he was killed, she wouldn’t see it that way.
No, she might spend the rest of her life bitterly hating him for abandoning her, for dying and leaving her alone, as her family had, when he could have chosen not to.
He eased his arm from under her sleeping head, and left the room quietly, the list of things to prepare before dawn running through his mind.
He returned late that evening after accomplishing his task list and spending two hours in shooting practice with Thomas. Eliza welcomed him back with kisses in the privacy of their rooms, and he basked in them. If her kisses were more desperate than she had ever gifted him before, he answered with just as much desperation. He tried to put any fear or doubt about this possibly being the last time he held her out of his mind.
* * *
He watched her in the still darkness of the early morning,
He had barely slept, not wanting to miss his wake-up time. He resisted the urge to touch her, to run his fingers across her dark, straight brows, or kiss her soft lips. He must not wake her.
He checked his watch in the dim light of a shuttered candle. It was finally time.
Yes, if he died today, he would die a happy man.
But he would leave Eliza an unhappy woman.
His heart squeezed and his chest tightened.
What ought to be done must be done.
He dressed in silence and slipped from the room, his boots in hand.
* * *
“My lady, my lady! Wake up, please.”
Eliza blinked blurrily into the sharp brightness of a candle held over her face.
“What?”
“Forgive me, but Lord Daniel just left to fight Lord Crewkerne!”
Eliza sprang up, her heart jumping in her chest. “What?”
Betsey stood over her with a candle. The young maid was dressed, but the window outside showed no hint of morning.
“If you want to follow him, I know where he’s going. Or maybe you just want to wait till it’s over? I know I would want—”
“Betsey, please.” Eliza held out her hand to forestall her words. She swung her legs over the side. “I will follow him.” Her knees were shaking. She steadied them. “Help me dress.”
“Yes, my lady.”
As they hurried through the task, Eliza asked, “How do you know? Did you see him leave?”
“I was watching for him to leave. Forgive me, my lady, but I knew it was to happen last night. That girl Pauline sent me a letter!”
“What?” Eliza stared.
“Delivered to the kitchen door by a street urchin. She said Lord Daniel found out about our visit to Crewkerne and went looking for you there. He challenged the earl to their duel. She overheard the location and everything.”
Daniel had known? He’d concealed it from her?
Of course he had, in order to have his blasted duel! Anger at him rushed through her. She grabbed hold of it to belay her fear.
“Why’d she send it to you?”
“More sneaky to send it to me. Hopefully for her protector to never find out. She wants Crewkerne not to be killed, and knows you want your man not to be killed, hopes we can stop it.”
“But why didn’t you tell me last night?” Eliza swung around to face her maid, her eyes wide with frustration.
Betsey wrung her hands. “Well, as I see it, Lord Daniel’s been itching for this fight. If we stop this one before it happens, it’ll just happen some other time, and perhaps we won’t get word aforehand. But maybe if you show up in the middle, stare them in the face, maybe . . .” She cringed.
Eliza stepped back and shook her head. There was no use in chastising the girl. They had to get to the meeting place. “There’s no time to waste.”
Betsey led Eliza through the servants’ back stairs down to the kitchens. They left the house as quietly as they could, and Eliza was surprised to find a dog cart and a groom waiting on the street. It was John, who had charge of Daniel’s horses on their honeymoon. John had brought the riding horses to London soon after Daniel and Eliza left the Cotswolds.
“I got us a groom this time. Just as good as a footman. Better even.” Betsey twinkled a smile at John.
The young man blushed and cleared his throat.
“Thank you for thinking of everything, Betsey,” Eliza said. “And bless Pauline for her letter. Let’s go.”
She gritted her teeth as the dog cart bumped over the uneven cobblestones, exacerbating the internal trembling that had taken over her body.
Daniel. Her husband. The only anchor of her life.
He had held her so tenderly last night. He hadn’t pushed to know what had upset her. At the time, she had been too distraught to do anything but accept that he was perfect and forbearing and patient.
He wasn’t, though. He had been hiding that he knew why she cried and had a worse secret besides.
She wanted to scream at him for his obstinacy and idiocy. And she wanted to scream because a pistol ball would soon be hurtling towards him. He could die.
If Lord Crewkerne’ shot met its mark, if a ball entered into the body of her husband—flesh of her flesh, and bone of her bone—if his blood was spilt—she might just take up the weapon and shoot Crewkerne herself, though she had never handled a gun before.
With that thought, the trembling stopped. Her hands steadied. Calm stole over her, or perhaps numbness. Her mind felt clear and sharp.
It was a misty morning, but the sky was gradually growing lighter. The men would have to wait till it was light enough that they could aim. There was still hope she would arrive in time.
They came to a carriage drawn up beside the cart path. Eliza recognized it as the same they had taken to the Cotswolds’. Thomas’s.
John halted the dog cart beside it. Eliza gathere
d up her skirts and jumped down from the cart unassisted. Betsey alighted beside her.
They all kept silent. Betsey followed as Eliza walked with determination into the mist-shrouded trees.
Chapter 45
Daniel checked over the dueling pistol one final time. All components appeared well in place. Crewkerne stood behind him, the heat of the man’s back prickling Daniel’s skin with revulsion.
It was an hour past sunrise, but the mist had finally burned off enough to allow clear line of sight from twenty paces.
In Daniel’s periphery, Thomas stood with the surgeon. The man faced away, his back turned.
Crewkerne’s second, a gentleman Daniel didn’t recognize, stood to the other side, accompanied by a plain-dressed servant.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees that surrounded their clearing. The cropped grass of the park was slick with dew under his feet.
He stood, pistol pointed up, his blood thrumming in his veins. He waited for the countdown to begin. Waited for the ten paces forward, the pivot, the shot. The loud clang of pistol fire. The white smoke and the scent of burned gunpowder.
He waited for the aftermath. For red blood spilt, or both left whole. And for this to be ended, so he could get back to Eliza.
He did this for her.
“One.” Thomas’s voice was steady. Daniel took a firm step forward.
He did this for justice.
“Two.”
Another step.
For honor.
“Three.”
For Eliza.
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
“Seven.”
“Eight.”
“Stop!” Eliza’s voice rang through the clearing. The sound sent a jolt through Daniel. He halted and swung his head towards her voice, his gut frosting with sharp dread.
Two female figures emerged out of the fog. Eliza and her maid Betsey.
His heart swooped, and he pulled himself up, his eyes wide. Their gazes connected. His jaw clenched and he lowered his pistol to his side.
Eliza’s expression was blank, controlled, but the skin over her beautiful face was tight, her mouth a line.
How did she come to be here?
“What’s this?” the earl’s second called.
“Lady Daniel!” Thomas called out.
“Ah, Eliza!” Crewkerne’s voice was far too bright.
Eliza’s burning gaze snapped to beyond Daniel. He turned and narrowed his eyes as the earl bowed to her with a mocking look.
“The fair lady whose virtue we contend over.”
She looked back to Daniel, her chin raised, her fists clenched. “Daniel. Please.”
He closed his eyes. “Oh, Eliza.”
He caught the gazes of Thomas and the earl’s second. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” Then he stared at the cold, angry face of the earl. “A recess, my lord.”
“Very well,” the man bit out. “As females have intruded.” He adjusted his grip on his weapon.
Daniel frowned and his skin chilled as he turned his back on the earl and walked to Eliza. He led her away from the group and turned her so that he could keep an eye on Lord Crewkerne, one hand on her shoulder, Daniel’s pistol pointed downward.
“Daniel, please, don’t do this.”
“I’m doing this for you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re doing it for yourself. Your pride. If you value my well-being, you will stop this now.” Her eyes were wide and beseeching. “I don’t care about Crewkerne. I value him, his opinion, his actions, too little and too cheap to risk you, Daniel, my husband, and my rescuer. Please, stop.”
He hated fighting over this—fighting her. He hated that she was unhappy. “Oh, Eliza.”
“My love, please.” She squeezed his upper arms, her eyes searching his, pleading.
He stilled. Love? Did she realize what she had just said?
She looked at him with frustration and concern and . . . love in her eyes. “I’ve asked again and again, my darling. I don’t want this. Please don’t risk your life.”
Eliza loved him. Elation filled him, bright and joyful.
She might not know it herself, and he wasn’t foolish enough to insist she repeat the words right here and now, but she loved him.
The realization buzzed in his brain. All sounds muted, and it was only her and him together, alone.
Her fingertips dug into his arms, and she spoke with urgent intensity. “I’d rather take up that gun and shoot him myself, if shooting is the only way to end this ridiculous farce.” Her brows lifted and she frowned up at him. “Why are you grinning, you foolish man?”
Daniel felt the joyful tightness of a wide smile over his face.
He cupped her cheek and stroked his thumb over the petal softness of her cheekbone. He lowered his hand to grasp hers and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed her gloved knuckles.
She scowled. “Are you listening to me?”
Eliza, who loved him, was angry at him. She was upset. Why was he doing things that upset his wonderful Eliza?
Oh, the duel. His smile fell. How important was this duel?
“My love.” He quieted and searched her face again, seeing concern, anger, and love there.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“You don’t wish me to fight?”
Her nostrils flared. “As I have said, repeatedly.”
He gazed deep into her eyes. Her beautiful, worried eyes. He sighed.
“Ashton!” Crewkerne’s voice cut through their moment. “Let’s get on with it! I have other things I wish to use my morning for.”
Eliza’s eyes flashed. She turned and gave, Daniel was sure, one of her scornful stares to the earl. His heart skipped a beat. She was magnificent.
What was more important? Eliza’s honor? His own honor? Or her happiness and her stated desires?
She had just given him the greatest desire of his heart—had been giving it these last few weeks, though the words had not crossed her lips till this moment.
She loved him. What more did he need?
“Crewkerne! I rescind my challenge,” Daniel called out.
Eliza pivoted back and stared at him with wide-eyed hope.
“What?” the earl snapped.
“On the request of the lady whose honor has been impinged, I stand down.” He bowed to the blackguard. “Our contest is canceled.”
She swayed. He pulled her against him, supported her.
“Really?” She looked up at him with such relief in her eyes. Relief and love.
His heart throbbed a double cadence. “Yes. I’m sorry I’ve caused you grief.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, I do not stand down!” Lord Crewkerne’s interruption was a cold dash of water. “You, sir, have insulted me. And I remain insulted.”
Anger rose in Daniel. “Nevertheless, sir, I have withdrawn my challenge.”
“And therefore admit your lady is guilty of all it is said she has done.” Crewkerne sneered. “That was the purpose of this charade, was it not? To prove her innocence by mortal combat between her husband and the source of her ruination? Instead, she saves her lover from her husband’s wrath.” He held out his arms and bowed, his pistol held carelessly.
“That is not what has happened here,” Eliza answered.
“When this is talked about, that will be society’s conclusion.” Crewkerne bared his teeth in a mocking smile.
“Enough!” Eliza’s voice was strong and scornful. Her eyes flashed and her stance was imposing.
“Eliza—” Daniel put a hand to her arm. She would only make it worse, though her valkyrie fury thrilled him.
She ignored him, stepped forward, and opened her arms before her. “Let everyone here witness.” She turned and took in the men present: Crewkerne’s second, Thomas, the surgeon, and the manservant Crewkerne had brought. “I value my husband’s life and health over the just punishment of this sorry excuse for a man.” She gestured at Lor
d Crewkerne. “If each of you do not care to defend me to those who say otherwise, it does not matter. You will all stand before God one day, and He shall see you judged for your deeds.”
She turned her baleful stare back to the earl. “But, Lord Crewkerne, I do not care what you say, or what anyone thinks. You have no more hold on me, and no more hold on Daniel. We are free from you. You do not matter, and we are done with you!”
“Quiet, woman!” Spittle flew from Crewkerne’s mouth. His hand clenched on the dueling pistol. “I demand satisfaction.”
“You will not get it.” Eliza raised her chin.
“Ashton! Control your wife.”
Daniel could never. A smile broke over his face. “No.”
Crewkerne bared his teeth in a vicious scowl. Daniel almost laughed.
The sound of the earl’s gun cocking sent alarm through Daniel. He pushed Eliza behind him. Crewkerne raised his pistol and aimed at Daniel’s chest.
The click of another weapon cocking rang clear in the sudden silence.
“Enough of that, Crewkerne. Stand down.” Thomas held his pistol extended, aimed toward the earl. “If you still demand satisfaction, I, as Lord Daniel’s second, will happily take his place in the duel with you. I have no wife to consider.”
Crewkerne snarled.
“I am very willing to pull this trigger, old man. But a warning, if you have not seen the betting books at Whites’, I am one of the best shots on record there. Do you wish to try your luck? Perhaps I would be happy to rid the world of you?”
The earl’s face drained of color. “You’d be hanged.”
“Would I?” Thomas kept his weapon unmoving, his tone cool. “How long can you hold a pistol steady, old man?”
The earl’s mouth fell open. His gun was already wavering. His eyes darted around the clearing, to all the witnesses present.
“Very well.” He gulped. “Very well. I stand down.” He lowered his weapon. His free hand clenched and unclenched.
“Good. Put the pistol on the ground.”
“You first.”
“I think not.”
The earl slowly lowered his pistol to the ground, and backed up.
Thomas lowered his weapon and uncocked it.
Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1) Page 28