Inconvenient Affair

by Kruger, Mary

  “What ladies?” Jeremy demanded, swiftly.

  “Why, the young ladies, sir, and the gentleman. I’ve put them in my best parlor. They’re seeing to his injuries, and—”

  “The devil!” Jeremy exchanged a swift, startled look with Francis and then turned. “See to the horses, Travers,” he snapped over his shoulder, and strode into the inn, Francis running behind him.

  And so it was that after a hard, tense ride, believing their loved ones to be in danger, Jeremy and Francis entered the inn’s private parlor to see a most unusual tableau. Roger DeVilliers was seated on a stool, having some nasty scratches attended to by Thea, while Evadne, of all people, was leaning against a table, a pistol held almost carelessly in her hand. After the unremitting tension of their ride, this was almost farcical, and both men stopped short, at a loss as to what to do next.

  Evadne looked up, and her face brightened. “You found Fluffy!” she exclaimed. “Oh, thank you!”

  Jeremy nearly choked. “Good God, Evadne, what are you doing with that gun?”

  “Making sure he doesn’t escape. Will you hold onto Fluffy, Mr. Thorne? Good kitty, you did for that nasty man, didn’t you?”

  Francis exchanged a startled glance with Jeremy, and then let out a bark of laughter. “I say, Stanton, look at him! Done in by two females and a cat.”

  “Appropriate, I’d say.” Jeremy smiled, but his eyes were cold and hard. “I might have known it was you.”

  “You can have her—ouch.” Roger jerked his head back as the damp cloth Thea was using touched one of the deeper scratches. “Though God knows what you see in her. Mrs. Jameson is much more interesting.”

  Jeremy’s eyes flickered. “Thea, you’re all right?”

  “Yes, of course I am. Hold still, sir,” Thea said to Roger. “The cat got frightened and tried to run away. Mr. DeVilliers very kindly tried to stop him, and got scratched for his pains. At least, that’s what we told the innkeeper.”

  Francis was grinning. “And how do you explain the gun?”

  “Oh, we don’t. He didn’t notice it, thank heavens. There, sir, that’s the worst of it. I don’t think they’ll leave a scar.”

  “And if they do, the hairpiece will cover ‘em.” Francis held up Fluffy’s trophy. “Didn’t know you were bald, sir.”

  “A pity. You won’t have another scar to boast to the ladies about,” Jeremy said, and held out his hand. “Evadne, come here.”

  Thea glanced up, her eyes unreadable, as Evadne crossed the room to Jeremy. “I’ll take that.” He took the pistol from her unresisting fingers, and then looked down at her, shaking his head. “What in the world did you think you were about?”

  “I’m sorry, Stanton,” Evadne said meekly, her head bent. Jeremy’s eyes were chips of blue ice. It occurred to Thea that she’d rarely seen Jeremy angry, and she wondered what he would do. Would this be the goad he needed to break with Evadne, once and for all?

  Jeremy let out his breath. “We won’t discuss it here,” he said, crisply, “but when we return to Moulton I wish a word with you.”

  “Yes, Stanton,” Evadne said, in that same meek voice. “I am sorry, sir. And Mr. Thorne.”

  “Don’t apologize on my account.” Francis was grinning broadly, obviously enjoying himself. “Do you want your cat?”

  “Yes. Oh, good kitty,” she crooned to the cat, struggling in her arms. “Didn’t he do well, Thea?”

  “Indeed, he did,” Thea said, stealing a quick glance at Jeremy. Aside from those few words when he’d entered, he’d said nothing to her. Instead, he seemed to be far more concerned with Evadne. Her heart sank. Had last night meant nothing to him?

  “God,” Roger muttered, and they looked at him. He was sitting with his head down, his arms dangling between his knees. All in all, he presented a pathetic sight, without the luxuriant dark hair that had been his best feature.

  Francis let out another laugh. “Better leave the country, DeVilliers. You’ll never live this down.”

  “Oh, yes, he’ll leave,” Jeremy said, his voice so soft and so cold that Roger raised his head to look at him, “and no one will hear of this. Is that clear?”

  “Of course, Jeremy,” Thea said, picking up her hat from the table and putting it on. “I told the innkeeper that Evadne is my sister. I’m not sure he believes it, but—”

  “He will. I’ll see to it. Thorne. Will you see the ladies home? I’ll follow shortly.”

  “I say, you’re not going to let him get away with it, are you?” Francis exclaimed.

  “Oh, no. This is twice he’s tried this on me, and last time I had no satisfaction. By God, sir, this time you’ll fight.”

  Evadne gasped. “Another duel? Oh, how romantic!”

  “No!” Thea said, sharply. “You can’t—”

  “Thorne, will you take them out of here?” Jeremy snapped.

  “But you have no second,” Francis protested.

  “Just think, Mr. DeVilliers, perhaps you’ll have another scar, after all! To think of the two of you dueling again, and over me,” Evadne exclaimed.

  “I won’t need a second,” Jeremy said, and then looked sharply at Evadne. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

  “He told me you dueled before, and that is when he got the scar.”

  “Really.” Jeremy smiled, and it was not a nice sight. “Is that what you’ve told everyone? I wonder what they’ll think when they know the truth?”

  “God,” Roger said again, drawing his hands down his face and wincing.

  “You see, it is true that I once challenged him to a duel,” Jeremy explained. “He had tried to elope with my wife before we were married—he has a habit of doing that—and I couldn’t allow it. But rather than face me, he ran away.” Jeremy’s grin was mocking. “He rode in such haste that he didn’t watch where he was going and he rode into a tree limb. It split his cheek open. And that, my dear Evadne, is how he came by the scar. History does seem to be repeating itself, doesn’t it, sir?”

  “Jeremy.” Thea caught at his sleeve. “You won’t duel, you can’t—”

  “Thorne,” Jeremy snapped. “Get them out of here.”

  “Jeremy, please—”

  “Come on, Thea,” Francis said, taking her arm, though she tried to pull away. “Stanton don’t want us here.”

  “But he can’t,” she said, frantically, as Francis pulled her into the inn yard. “Francis, you must stop it.”

  Evadne came running out of the inn. “Stanton just slapped Mr. DeVilliers in the face with his glove! And the innkeeper is making them go out in the field in back.”

  “Can’t stop it, then,” Francis said. “In with you, Thea.”

  Thea reluctantly climbed into the carriage. “Francis, can’t you at least stay and make sure he’s all right?”

  “He will be, Thea, don’t worry. I think he just wants to teach DeVilliers a lesson.”

  “But Mr. DeVilliers has choice of weapons, hasn’t he?” Evadne said, her eyes shining. “Oh, I wish I could stay to see it! What will he choose, do you think?”

  “Can’t see there’s much choice.” Francis closed the door and spoke through the window. “Looks like it will be pistols.”

  “No!” Thea jumped to her feet, swaying as the carriage started off. “No, I can’t let it happen again!”

  “Thea!” Evadne exclaimed, but Thea had already opened the door and jumped out, stumbling to the ground. “Thea, wait!”

  Thea didn’t answer. Already she was running into the inn, dashing down the hall past the startled innkeeper, to find the way to the field where Jeremy was to fight. She couldn’t let it happen, not again. It had been bad enough to lose Hugh this way, and over another woman’s honor; how much worse it would be to lose Jeremy. And not even because of her, she thought, bitterly. It was Evadne he fought to protect, Evadne he loved, Evadne he would marry. Last night had been only a moment’s pleasure to him, and she was a fool to have hoped he loved her. She could not stand idly by and let him be killed, however
, even if it meant saving him for someone else.

  The sun broke out just as she dashed out from the inn. In the distance the sky was black with clouds, and the golden light lent an unreal brilliance to the scene: Jeremy and Roger, their coats removed, their shirtsleeves dazzlingly white against their dark waistcoats, pacing away from each other, pistols ready in their hands. “No,” Thea said, and it came out a croak, as in a nightmare when she tried to scream, but couldn’t, tried to run, but couldn’t. Time had slowed down, and each step she took seemed excruciatingly, agonizingly slow. She would never reach them in time.

  They had stopped, now, they were turning, standing almost in profile, so as to present a smaller target, raising their hands. “No!” Thea screamed, and this time it came out. Time snapped back into normal, and she was running, running, her lungs burning so she thought they would burst, pushing aside the fear of guns, that threatened to choke her. Someone called her name, but she didn’t stop, she veered instead toward Roger in a desperate attempt to protect Jeremy. She was almost there, almost there—

  And the guns went off, so closely together they sounded like one loud report. Something hit Thea hard, in the shoulder, and she rocked back. Through a red mist, she saw Jeremy, whose pistol had been hastily pointed into the air, drop his gun and start to run, saw Roger standing, very still, a look of horror on his face. Then the red mist swirled and swirled and darkened until it grew black, and she knew no more.

  Chapter Twenty

  She was being carried. A voice was crooning to her, calling her name, over and over. “Thea. Thea, my darling, my love, I’m sorry, don’t die, don’t—”

  Another voice, Francis’s voice. “God, I tried to stop her. Is she—”

  “I don’t know. Get the innkeeper to send for a doctor. Thea, Thea, hold on, my love, don’t die, don’t leave me—careful, don’t touch her!”

  Pain, lancing through her. She heard someone whimper, and then the blessed darkness descended again, until, a long time later, she opened her eyes. She could make no sense of her surroundings, other than that she was lying on a bed in a room with plain plaster walls, a casement window and a beamed ceiling. A strange woman, plump and motherly, was leaning over her, and an elderly, bearded man, and someone was gripping her hand so hard it hurt. Again someone whimpered as she tried to pull her hand away, and the grip tightened.

  “Thea. Thea, darling. Hold on.”

  “Jeremy?”

  “Yes, darling. Hold on.”

  “I can’t,” she gasped, as the strange man suddenly probed at her shoulder with something that sent fire through her. The darkness swirled around her again, and this time she went with it gladly.

  The doctor stepped away from the bed. “She’ll do,” he said briefly. “Ball went clean through her shoulder.”

  “She’ll be all right?” Jeremy said, anxiously. It had been one of the worst moments in his life, seeing Thea fall, shot by DeVilliers’ gun. When he got his hands on him—

  “Yes, she and the baby. Lost some blood, but that’s to be expected. Keep her quiet for a few days and she’ll be all right.” The doctor snapped his bag shut and headed for the door, before his words penetrated Jeremy’s worry.

  “The what?” he exclaimed, shooting up from the chair, and ran after the doctor, catching him in the hall. “What baby?”

  The doctor gave him a shrewd, measuring look. “Didn’t you know? She’s pregnant. Shouldn’t let your lady jaunter about in her condition, sir,” he said, sternly.

  “She’s not—I mean, I won’t.” He followed the doctor down the stairs. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. She’s about two months along, I’d say.” He stopped at the door. “What are you standing about here for, man? Go on back to your wife.”

  “She’s not—” Jeremy began, and closed his mouth. No, she wasn’t his wife, but she would be. And she had some explaining to do.

  He walked into the little bedroom and stood, staring down at her. Thea, the mother of his child—because it had to be his—and the love of his life. What had she been thinking, to leave him without a word? And then to run between him and DeVilliers. The thought made him shudder. He had nearly lost her. How very lucky he was, to have another chance.

  Mrs. Travers, the innkeeper’s wife, looked at him sympathetically as she continued cleaning up after the doctor, bundling together some bloody cloths. “Poor lady,” she said. “And such a pretty riding habit as it was.”

  “I’ll take her back to Moulton,” Jeremy said, as if he hadn’t heard. Take her back, and never let her go. Never. “Stay with her.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord.” Mrs. Travers curtsied as Jeremy strode by her.

  “Stanton!” Francis jumped up from his seat in the private parlor. “Is she—”

  “She’ll be all right. I could use some of that brandy.” He sprawled into a chair and tossed back the brandy, ignoring the blood that stained his shirtfront and sleeve. Thea’s blood. His baby. Good God. “She’s asleep.”

  “I tried to stop her,” Francis said, “but she got too far ahead of me.”

  Jeremy waved his hand in dismissal. “I should have known better,” he said, regretfully, “but nothing would do but that I had to fight that bastard. Where is he, by the way?”

  Francis looked around, realizing for the first time that Roger wasn’t there. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s gone,” Evadne said, in a very small voice. “I saw him take the carriage and go.”

  “Good. Maybe he’s leaving the country,” Francis said.

  “He had better,” Jeremy said, grimly. “Next time I won’t miss.” He reached for the brandy. “Damn. Now how will we get Thea back to Moulton?”

  “I’m sorry,” Evadne said.

  Jeremy looked at her. “Why?”

  “Because it’s my fault!” she burst out. “If you hadn’t been fighting over me—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jeremy said, and took a gulp of his second glass of brandy. “You had nothing to do with it.”

  “But—”

  “You were fighting for Thea,” Francis said, staring at him.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Evadne, but I find you’re not important enough for me to fight over.”

  Francis jumped to his feet, his hands balled into fists. “I say! You can’t say something like that to her!”

  Jeremy’s eyes glinted. “And why not?”

  “Because she’s the woman I’m going to marry.”

  “Mr. Thorne!” Evadne gasped.

  “Are you,” Jeremy said, and drained his glass.

  “Yes. And no one’s going to stop me, not her parents and not you.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jeremy was grinning. “In fact, I happen to have an estate in a borough that needs someone to stand for Parliament. I’ll support you, if you’re interested.”

  Francis abruptly sat down, staring at him. “You mean it.”

  “Of course I do. Take her with my blessings. Though she’ll lead you a merry dance,” he added, but Francis was no longer listening. He had jumped up and caught Evadne in his arms, cat and all.

  Jeremy looked at them a moment, and then, smiling, left the room. He was free. He didn’t think Mrs. Powell would approve this new match for her daughter, to a penniless, untitled man, but that didn’t bother him. Evadne, he suspected, would win the fight to get, for the first time in her life, what she truly wanted. And the best part of that, he thought as he climbed the stairs to Thea’s room, was that he could at last tell Thea he loved her. The future was his.

  She felt very odd, Thea thought, lying still with her eyes closed. Light and heavy at the same time, as if she were being pressed into the bed by a giant, invisible hand. Her shoulder hurt. She had no idea why, or where she was, and when she at last opened her eyes her confusion increased. She didn’t know this room, though something about it caught at her memory. For a moment she almost thought herself back at Linwood, and then someone spoke. “Well, hello. Welcome ba
ck.”

  Thea turned her head on the pillow, startled by the amount of effort it took, and saw Jeremy. In the state she was in, half-dreaming, half-awake, she didn’t question his presence, but only smiled, lifting a lazy hand to touch his face. He looked wonderful, and at the same time terrible, as if he had been through a great strain. As if-

  Memory flooded back, all at once, and she saw again the two men pacing off, the sun glinting off their pistols. “No!” she gasped, and shot up in the bed. Pain like fire shot through her, and she was gasping with it when Jeremy, his hands gentle, helped her to lie down again.

  “Thea,” he said, and she opened her eyes to see his face, very near, looking concerned.

  “You’re all right,” she said, studying him as if she had never seen him before, as if she would never see him again. Because now she remembered. He had survived the duel with Mr. DeVilliers, and now he would marry his little bride. Thea couldn’t even find it in her heart to resent Evadne any longer. There was so much more to her than anyone had known.

  “Yes, of course I am.” He lifted her limp hand from the bed and pressed a kiss on it. “I suspect I would have been in any event. DeVilliers’s shot went wide, you see,” he explained. “If you had really got between us, you wouldn’t have been hurt.” His face darkened. “Why did you do it, Thea? It was mad of you.”

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you that way. Not again.”

  “Again?”

  “The way I lost Hugh.”

  “Oh, my dear.” He lowered his face to her hand again, his eyes briefly squeezed shut. “Because of my stupid honor, you have to suffer.”

  “No, it’s all right,” she said, and disproved her words by grimacing as she shifted her position.

  “No, it isn’t. God, Thea, I’ll never forget it, seeing you run between us.”

  “I had to.” She lifted her hand to feather through his hair. “Even if it meant saving you for another woman.”

  Jeremy raised his head at that. “Saving me for—oh, Thea.” And to her chagrin, he burst out laughing.