“No, I suppose not,” Nigel said thoughtfully.
Rowland paced the length of the room, aware of Felicia’s gaze on him. He returned to take her hands as he crouched in front of her. “I wanted you to be with your mother when I told you, my love. If you cannot bring yourself to marry me, I will understand, but I could not just pretend that it never happened.”
He seemed unable to proceed and Alicia, with a weighty sigh, murmured, “She is but a child, Nigel.”
“No, love, she must become a woman now, for she is contemplating marriage.”
Felicia followed their remarks curiously and studied Rowland with alarm. “What is it that I should know, Rowland, that everyone else knows?”
“After Mr. Tackar tried to burn the shop, he went to Paris. Letters from him were received by a number of people in London, in which he told lies about you and your mother and my uncle. I could not allow such a matter to pass; it would have been unthinkable.” His voice pleaded with her to understand. “And so I went there and I fought a duel with him. It was a matter of honor, Felicia. I went intending to kill him, and I did.”
She stared at him incredulously. “I always thought Papa Nigel must have killed him. He was away at that time.”
Alicia interposed. “Nigel met Tackar the day after he was at our cottage, and Tackar was seriously wounded. But Nigel did go to Paris to meet him again, only to find that Rowland had preceded him.”
“I see,” Felicia said softly.
“My outrage and my anger carried me through the duel,” Rowland admitted. “Afterward I felt wretched—not the wound, you understand, but that I had killed a man. You must not think that I take it lightly, Felicia, for I have never done anything so dreadful in my life. It is all very well to say that he did not deserve to live, which is true. It is another matter to have killed him myself.”
Into the silence which followed Rowland’s remarks, his uncle spoke. “By law he would have been guilty of a capital crime, had he been prosecuted. Tackar was familiar with a gentleman’s code of honor, and chose not to abide by it. Doubtless the honorable course is not always the easiest to follow, Rowland, but under the circumstances, as I told you at the time, you had no choice.”
“I could have aimed to wound him.”
“Which would have served no purpose at all,” his uncle replied firmly. “You do not put your life in jeopardy with such a scoundrel to no end. You could as easily have been killed.”
Felicia’s face paled at the thought and she clutched at Rowland’s hand. “I would not have let you do it! Not because you killed him. I can feel no remorse for him, awful as that may sound. He deserved to die, and though I know it is hard for you to reconcile yourself to killing him, I am not horrified that you have done so. But you should not have taken such a chance to protect my name. My mother has taught me that I can hold my head high no matter what others say of me.”
“Such a pity that men cannot see it that way,” Alicia added pungently, with a grimace at Nigel. “They must be forever charging at windmills in defense of our honor.” She shook her head but continued sadly, “Unfortunately there is some justification of their attitude. A ruined reputation can prove the end of a young woman who has no means to refute it. Nigel and Rowland quite effectively managed to do so in this case, Felicia, and I hope you will not think unkindly of Rowland for doing what he felt he must.”
“No, of course not,” the girl replied softly. She raised a hand to touch Rowland’s face tenderly. “I am proud that you thought enough of me to undertake such a dreadful task, my love.”
When Rowland bent forward to kiss her, Nigel grasped his wife’s hand and hurriedly drew her from the room. They wandered hand in hand to the solarium where they gazed over the lush lawns and flower borders.
“I suppose he had to tell her,” Alicia said wistfully.
“Yes, love, he did. In his eyes she had the right to refuse him for his actions. You must let her become a woman, Alicia. With the strength you have given her, she can help him share his burden.” Nigel pulled her to him, to the astonished amusement of the gardener working in the flower beds, and kissed her gently.
“I have protected her since she was a baby,” Alicia sighed.
“It is time you let Rowland do so, my dear.”
“Yes, I promise I shall.” She looked up to see his very special smile and asked, “You will help me?”
“Be sure I will, my love.”
Copyright © 1980 by Elizabeth Rotter
Originally published by Dell Publishing Company, and
subsequently by Warner and Signet
Electronically published in 2002 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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