To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  Good. It meant he would either stick to their agreement…or attempt something desperate.

  Now was the time for caution. Percy eased up and allowed him some space. He was warmed up now. In addition to learning his enemy’s weaknesses, he observed that Ravenwood’s breathing was ragged. The man didn’t practice on a daily basis or it would have been as steady and even as his own. Another potentially fatal error.

  Again he lunged, pressing his opponent back, though not as hard as the last time. That had been to judge his strength, his endurance. This time he meant to draw blood and see if he could get the man to yield. Whipping up, he feinted to the left, purposely repeating the first half of his previous attack. But this time, instead of bringing his blade back around to the right in an attaque passé, he reprised. When Ravenwood lifted his blade to parry the thrust that never came, Percy lunged forward and aimed for his enemy’s exposed flank.

  A line of red appeared in the linen of Ravenwood’s shirt.

  “Do you yield?” Percy called out.

  Ravenwood opened his mouth, but before he could, Wells shouted, “It’s to the death, man! Remember?”

  Percy’s eyes never left Ravenwood’s. “Your call,” he said softly.

  The other man’s jaw clenched. “We cannot stop now.”

  “So be it.”

  Before the last word left Percy’s lips, Ravenwood lunged forward.

  Percy let him press his attack and circled back step by step, parrying each thrust with minimal movement, conserving his energy, resting while the other man wore himself out. When Ravenwood’s breath again grew rapid and uneven, he saw his opportunity.

  He parried a sloppy lunge and then riposted, pressing his adversary with all his might, taking grim satisfaction in the surprise he saw spread over Ravenwood’s sweaty face as he beat him back. Ravenwood’s parries became wider and less controlled, and anger kindled in the depths of his slate gray eyes.

  A cool head was essential in any battle, but especially in one matching skill with blades. Anger made one do foolish things. When the opening presented itself in an overreach, Percy slashed him across the sword-arm shoulder, made as if to back off, but at the last moment instead again lunged forward to execute a prise de fer, entangling his enemy’s weapon and forcing Ravenwood into close quarters.

  Their blades glided against each other with a long, metallic ring. Catching his enemy’s guard, Percy shoved upward sharply, wrenching the weapon from Ravenwood’s grasp. Reaching up, he neatly caught the hilt in his left hand and stepped back.

  Ravenwood’s face registered complete shock.

  Taking his enemy’s sword, Percy thrust it deep into the earth. “You’ve been disarmed, and your life is forfeit,” he said, his voice carrying on the still air. He stepped forward and laid the flat of his own blade atop Ravenwood’s left shoulder near the base of his neck. “I will spare it, provided you declare the matter forever resolved.”

  Percy watched as Ravenwood cast one nervous glance to their right, where their seconds stood. “I yield, and I declare the grievance between us forever settled.”

  Lifting his sword, Percy backed away, but kept his eyes on Ravenwood. “Wells, Ravenwood requires a surgeon,” he called. “Best get him to one quickly.”

  Montgomery’s warning shout split the air, and Percy dropped and rolled, sword still in hand as the crack of a gunshot echoed in the clearing. Looking up an instant later, he saw Montgomery wrestle Wells to the ground and remove a spent pistol from his hand.

  A faint cry behind him made him turn just as Ravenwood sank to his knees, a stunned look on his face. Scarlet slowly spread across his upper abdomen. Running over, Percy helped lay his erstwhile opponent back on the ground.

  Ravenwood stared up at him, his gray eyes fever-bright. “I knew he would never let me live,” he gasped, clutching at his middle. “I know I don’t deserve it, but promise me you will seek justice on my behalf.”

  “I will,” Percy answered without hesitation. “Now lie still.” He looked up as he heard Montgomery shouting instructions. “Your driver is being sent for a surgeon.”

  The corners of Ravenwood’s mouth turned up in a smile that was more a grimace. “I’m already dead. I knew I wasn’t going to survive this. I went to be shriven this morning—something I’ve not done since I was a boy.”

  There was nothing he could say, so Percy held his tongue.

  “You’ll get the girl out, won’t you? The one in Crown Court?”

  He looked down at Ravenwood in surprise.

  “You’ve been looking for her,” said the man, wincing as Percy pressed his wound, keeping pressure on it. “I could tell it was important to you the moment I mentioned it.”

  “I’ll get her out.” It was all he would say. If by some miracle this man lived, he didn’t want him having any more information than he already possessed. He flinched as Ravenwood clasped his arm, moving his hand away from his wound.

  “Don’t prolong my pain.” The man grunted, his breath shallow and accompanied by a faint bubbling sound. “Let me die quickly, free of sin.”

  Percy withdrew his bloodstained hand just as Montgomery came running up. Glancing back, he saw his driver holding Wells down and pressing a pistol to his head.

  Montgomery knelt beside him. “I gave him my gun and sent Ravenwood’s driver—”

  “He’ll not make it back in time.”

  “Why did Wells do this?” asked Montgomery. “He was the man’s second, for God’s sake.”

  “Because he knew too much. I suspect now he would have killed him even if he’d bested me.”

  “You’re right,” gasped Ravenwood. “He’d want no witnesses to—” He coughed, sending out a spray of pink froth, and his eyes went wide.

  Percy held him by the shoulders, pressing him against the ground to prevent him further damaging himself, but he knew there was no help for the man. The bullet had punctured a lung and possibly other organs. He was drowning in his own blood. “I’ll see Wells brought to justice,” he promised again. “I swear it.”

  Robbed of breath to acknowledge the vow, Ravenwood’s gray eyes sought and held his.

  Percy watched the light in them die into dullness. He passed his hand over the man’s face, closing his lids. A muffled curse and scuffling behind him made him turn to see Wells making an unsuccessful attempt to break the driver’s hold. The driver barked a word of command, and Wells ceased his struggles.

  Standing, Percy winced as a stinging pain in his leg alerted him to an injury. On looking, he saw blood staining his breeches from a lateral rent in the fabric halfway down his outside left thigh. “Ah, George’s bollocks,” he swore, tearing off a strip from the bottom of his shirt and tying it tightly above the wound to slow the flow of blood. It wasn’t a deep cut—he hadn’t even felt it at the time—but it would likely need cleaning and sewing up. He limped over to where Wells lay.

  The burly driver held his captive down with a knee planted in the small of his back and one of the man’s arms locked behind. “Steady, now,” grunted the fellow as his prisoner struggled. He wrenched Wells’s arm up until the man let out a cry of protest and stilled. “I’d only be too happy to break it, milord.”

  Wells glared up at Percy as he approached. “Whatever Ravenwood told you, it’s not true!”

  Cold fury settled over Percy as he stared down at him. “Then why did you kill him?”

  The man didn’t answer.

  Percy snorted in disgust. “I should run you through, but I think I’ll leave the manner of your death for the magistrate to decide.”

  “You’ve no evidence.”

  “Need I more than the four witnesses here today to say you shot the man you were to second? For that alone I’ll see you dangle at Tyburn,” Percy told him. “But if that’s not enough, then I know you put him up to courting Eden. You wanted revenge on her for rejecting you. I was to have been the means, but when I failed to carry through, you went to Ravenwood.”

  “I don’t know what you
’re talking about,” scoffed Wells. “His father had already spoken to her parents concerning a match, at the start of the Season.”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t interested in pursuing it until you forced his hand. At first, I couldn’t understand how a man with your lack of influence had managed such a feat, but then I discovered his secret just like you did—only I had no need to frequent Madam Jack’s in order to learn it.”

  The man paled, and Percy favored him with a humorless smile. “That particular establishment caters to a very select clientele. The only way you could have known about Ravenwood’s vices was if you were neck-deep in the same pool.”

  “I’m no buggerer,” hissed Wells. “Just try and prove it!”

  “I don’t have to,” Percy said smoothly. “If shooting the man you were to second in cold blood is not enough to see you strung up, you’ve indulged in another offense that guarantees it.” He bent low. “I’ve sent someone to Crown Court to fetch the girl.”

  He watched Wells’s eyes widen, and a tingle raced down his back as the man’s panicked gaze darted to the woods on the far side of the clearing. Ravenwood’s last words echoed in his mind. He’d want no witnesses… “Monty,” he murmured. “You don’t happen to have another loaded pistol about, do you, old fellow?”

  Montgomery’s hands stilled in their task of binding a cut on Percy’s upper right arm. “I do.” Reaching beneath his coat, he pulled one out from where it was tucked into his breeches and handed it to him. “I took it off Wells after I knocked him down. He was carrying two.”

  “I’ve another, too,” said his driver. “Your lordship often travels to dangerous places, and I don’t like being without some sort of protection. It’s in back under m’coat.”

  “Excellent. We’ll probably need them to cover our exit,” Percy said, keeping his tone nonchalant as he planted a boot on Wells’s back and wrist to allow his driver to rise and retrieve his own weapon and hand the other back to Montgomery. “I think we ought to take our friend here back into town.”

  Percy bent and shoved the business end of his pistol against Wells’s temple. “Get up—slowly,” he instructed, removing his foot from the man’s back. “Make any quick moves and I’ll put a bullet in your brain. Just so we’re clear, I’m fully aware of your men hiding out there. Signal them to stand down.”

  Wells dropped all pretenses. “Bloody bastard, I should have shot you first.”

  Percy dug the cold tip of the pistol’s muzzle into the man’s flesh. “Up. You,” he addressed the driver, “keep tight hold of him. Monty, take his other side and watch the trees. Stay close.”

  Wells heaved himself to his feet, muttering curses.

  “Signal them,” Percy commanded.

  “Leave off,” shouted Wells. “Do nothing or they’ll kill me!”

  “Good. Now I know you still owe them money,” Percy said, satisfied. “Otherwise you would not bother asking them to help keep you alive.” He nudged him. “Walk. Slowly. Everyone keep close.”

  Clustered tightly around Wells, they crossed the field.

  Something nagged at the back of Percy’s mind. “Why did you shoot Ravenwood?” he asked Wells as they shuffled across the green. “Why not simply leave it to your friends out there rather than dirtying your own hands in front of witnesses?”

  Wells shot him a malevolent look and pressed his lips together, appearing for all the world like a sullen child thwarted of his mischief.

  Percy worked it out in his mind. “I’ll wager there’s only one man out there.” He knew from the way the other man flushed it was so. “One of us was to have died in the duel. Your man would have held up the party as they carried the body, with instructions to kill only the victor. Whether it was Ravenwood or I was immaterial, so long as we both died. Instead, we both lived. You knew your man couldn’t pick us both off at once, and you couldn’t risk either of us surviving.”

  He looked to the gun in his hand. “Despite knowing this duel was to be fought with swords you brought your pistols, so if your first plan failed, you and your friend out there could shoot us all and then you’d run to London with a tale of robbers in the woods. Clever.” He looked to the waiting carriage and had another thought. “I’m guessing Ravenwood’s driver won’t be returning with a surgeon, will he? You’ve either paid him to keep quiet or paid someone else to make him disappear. Since we heard no shots as he left, may I assume the former?”

  No answer.

  They approached the carriage, and Percy bade his driver prepare for departure. As the man reached to open the carriage door for them, however, a single shot rang out.

  Before Percy could do more than flinch, Wells slumped in his arms. Red began to gush from the back of his enemy’s head.

  “Get us out of here!” Percy shouted to his driver as another shot was fired at them. “Leave him, Monty! He’s gone.” Jerking open the door, he flung himself inside and turned to help pull Montgomery up and in, just as the vehicle lurched into motion.

  Scrambling to his knees, Percy peered out, looking for a target. There was nothing. The man—or men, he’d never know for sure—Wells had hired remained concealed in the wood.

  “Must have figured Wells would reveal his identity,” gasped Montgomery, rising to take a proper seat now they were a safe distance away. “He knew his employer was caught and that we were aware of his presence.”

  Percy grunted agreement, but didn’t take his eyes off the woods behind.

  “How did you guess what he was playing at in the first place?”

  “I saw him look away in that direction as if he was waiting for something. The man’s always been a terrible liar. Could never bluff at cards, either.”

  Montgomery burst into chuckles. “God, man. You really ought to feel at least some pity for the poor fool.”

  The laughter that had threatened died on Percy’s tongue. “Men such as him deserve no pity.” As they rode into town, he filled Montgomery in on what he’d learned. “Someone must be sent straightaway before anyone can learn of his death and fetch her. I’ll want to speak with her and see if I can learn something of the person who sold her to that monster.”

  “Number four Crown Court,” said Montgomery, tapping his temple. “I’ll see to it.”

  “Quietly.”

  His friend nodded. “I’ll have to give a statement concerning Wells and Ravenwood, of course, but I’m sure it can wait.”

  …

  From her vantage point by the window, Eden saw the carriage as it came around the bend. Heedless of her own dignity, she tore out of the salon and raced to the front door. The instant it opened to admit her husband, she flung her arms around him.

  “You’re alive!” was all she could say as she clung to him. Feeling something sticky beneath her hand, she pulled it back to see a wet, red smear across her palm. It then registered on her that there was blood all over him. The floor dropped.

  “It’s not mine,” he said, grasping her shoulders as she swayed. “Eden? Eden!”

  The words registered only dimly through a sudden ringing in her ears.

  “Get her to my chamber and send for a doctor at once,” she heard him order just before all went dark.

  When next she opened her eyes, it was to see her husband’s bare back silhouetted against the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows of their chamber.

  “What happened?”

  Turning, he looked at her with infinite tenderness. “It’s over. Ravenwood is dead, as is Wells—I killed neither, by the bye.”

  “Wells? I don’t…I don’t understand. Why is Wells dead?”

  She listened in growing fury as he explained all that had transpired leading up to the men’s demise. How close they’d all come to disaster, and all because of one man’s bruised pride.

  Then Percy began telling her other things. Tales of clandestine outings to the seamier parts of London, of former prostitutes sent quietly to the country to begin new lives, of lost children found, and of a school run by a young Frenc
hwoman.

  He spoke of regrets for the many hearts he’d broken, the sins he’d committed, and mistakes he’d made in his youth, one of them being the daughter Lady Sotheby had borne him. Eden listened in stunned silence while he explained how he’d recently arranged to secure the child’s future.

  It all began to coalesce into one dominant thought: she hardly knew the man she’d married.

  At last he stopped and looked down to where her hands rested on the coverlet. “Eden, I need you to know these things. I’m not asking for forgiveness—I’m asking only for your acceptance. Some of what I’ve told you is part of a past I shall never revisit, but some of it remains part of my present. Because of the potential danger, I’m going to stop searching personally for London’s lost. I’ll leave that to Loxdon and reduce my involvement to purely that of a benefactor. But I cannot abandon those already in my care, nor can I detach myself from the school. I am responsible for them.”

  Her throat was parched, and she had to swallow before it would produce any sound. “This school, the woman who runs it…was…is she…?”

  “No, Eden. God, no,” he said with a strangled gasp of humorless laughter. “I doubt she’ll ever let a man touch her after what she suffered.”

  The numbness that had begun to spread throughout Eden’s heart and mind eased as he told her of Miss Trouvère and of how and why her school had come to be.

  “She’s a friend who trusts me with her life.” He bowed his head. “If people ever learned the true origin of our association, there would be no end of scandal over it. I would survive, of course, but it would ruin her, force the school to close, and she would have to leave England. Everything I’ve helped her build would come to an end.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, bewildered. “Would it not have been much easier to keep me ignorant?”

  “I want no secrets between us.” His eyes implored her to understand. “I know you will keep what I’ve told you in confidence, but can you accept it and live with it? With me?”

  She nodded. What other choice had she? They were married. “I knew you had a past,” she said at last, unable to help the irony of it from entering her voice. “But by all that is holy, Percy…”