A Too Convenient Marriage

by Georgie Lee

  ‘Mr Rathbone, I’ll need your signature as a witness.’ Philip stepped forward from where he’d been observing from behind the desk, took up the pen and put his name to the will. Then the solicitor held out the pen to Justin who, without much thought, scrawled his name above Philip’s. The solicitor rose and tucked the paper into his satchel.

  ‘Good luck to you, Mr Connor.’ He left, taking Justin’s will with him.

  With any luck, neither Justin nor Susanna would need the cursed document.

  ‘Is everything ready?’ Justin asked, sagging down into his usual chair by the window. Beside him a decanter of port shimmered with the candlelight, but he ignored the tempting liquor. This was no time to indulge.

  ‘It is. We’re to meet at dawn on Primrose Hill. As we have no duelling pistols, Lord Howsham will provide them.’

  ‘Make sure to check them before I fire.’ He didn’t trust Lord Howsham to fight fair, even when it was in his best interest to do so. If the earl tampered with the weapons, it’d be society’s judgement, not Justin’s he’d have to face when this was over. He knew how cruel the toffs could be, especially when it came to matters of honour.

  He laced his fingers over his stomach. Seeing Lord Howsham disgraced wouldn’t amuse Justin if he was shot dead by the man.

  Philip took his chair behind the desk, rested his forearms on the blotter and fixed on Justin. ‘Are you sure you wish to do this?’

  ‘No, but if I walk away, they’ll call me a coward. No one wants to do business with a coward. Besides, my honour is about the only thing I have left.’ He clung to his distrust of Susanna, despite her tempting words of love which had played on him in the chaise. There’d been nothing in them, or in the faint tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes, to tell him her love for him was false, yet still he refused to believe it. ‘You’ll be sure to look after Susanna if anything happens to me.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And the child?’

  ‘The child as well,’ Philip agreed and the relief which eased Justin’s tension surprised him. He’d spent so many days despising the baby and what it meant to her and him and their future. He couldn’t despise it any longer. It was as much a part of its mother as her beautiful voice, or the smile which had eluded him for the last several days, the smile he missed.

  ‘Have you made your peace with her?’ Philip asked.

  ‘No.’ He couldn’t. Even if the hardness he’d born against her had begun to soften beneath her love and concern for his life, his suspicion of her motives continued to play on him. ‘Why do you think she kept her pregnancy from me?’

  ‘She was afraid of losing you.’

  Justin banged his fist against the arm of the chair. ‘Because she thought so low of me.’

  ‘Because everyone has always thought so low of her. I imagine she couldn’t conceive of a man she barely knew standing by her when those bound to her by blood never have.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose she could.’ Yet she’d believed in herself tonight, standing firm against Lord Howsham, proclaiming her faith in herself and Justin to everyone.

  He picked at the thick stitching of the chair’s covering, unable to ignore the pride he’d felt when she’d stood up to Lord Howsham, defying the man who’d treated her like an old coat to be worn and then discarded. In doing so, she’d demonstrated to him and everyone her deep belief in herself and Justin. It wasn’t the first time her faith in him had prevailed during the masque. She could have stayed silent after Justin’s failure with Lord Pallston, refused to offer any assistance and let him blunder his way through who knew how many more meetings. Instead, she’d demonstrated to him the manners it took to win the influence of a baron, as well as the necessary information to target the right man.

  He wished she’d gloated. It would make shunning her easier. She’d stood beside him against Lord Howsham and Lady Rockland exactly as he’d asked her to do. He couldn’t even promise to come home to her without a hole in his stomach.

  Philip rose, coming around the desk. ‘You’d better get some rest.’

  ‘I’d like to stay here.’ It almost seemed an easier thing to face an earl at dawn than to go home and face his wife. He possessed enough concerns about tomorrow without adding Susanna’s to them, and he couldn’t face her pleading green eyes and expect to stand firm. She’d nearly swayed him on the pavement with her tender kiss, her chestnut curls glistening in the carriage light until he’d wanted to twine his hands in the locks and draw her lips to his. As much as he tried to ignore his instincts, tonight they told him she loved him. It was as disquieting as the coming duel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A soft mist settled over the green grass covering Primrose Hill and wound through the few trees near the bottom of the rise. In the distance, London spread out, its chimneys spewing thin tendrils of black smoke into the air, which the wind carried away to obscure the orange of the rising sun. It wasn’t high enough in the sky to cast off the early-morning gloom and Justin stood in his greatcoat, gloved hands in his pockets to protect against the chill air. Behind him, horses tossed their heads and jingled the equipage of the many carriages lining the road. Inside the vehicles sat those brave or curious enough to rise early after a long night at Lady Rockland’s to watch the duel.

  ‘I’ve drawn quite a crowd,’ Justin remarked to Dr Hale who stood beside him, looking over his shoulder at the people standing along the edge of the field waiting for the spectacle to begin. What little sleep Justin had snatched in the Rathbone house hadn’t eased the anxiety tightening his muscles, or the second thoughts which continued to fight with his determination to see this through.

  ‘Not too late to reconsider,’ the doctor advised. ‘Better to go home to your wife in a chaise than a coffin.’

  Justin let out a long breath and it curled like smoke in front of him before fading away. If he came home unscathed, Susanna would be waiting for him and with her every ambition for his business and a long life ahead of them both. Whether it was one of happiness or marked by the bitterness which made Lady Rockland such a prune he wasn’t sure. In the end it would be up to him. She’d made her love and belief in him clear, and during the few dark hours of last night, as he’d lain in the Rathbones’ guest bed contemplating the past few weeks, he’d come to realise, like his father had, it was time to choke down all the hate and hurt and cross the wide chasm separating him from Susanna. No matter what secrets she’d brought to their marriage, she was his wife for better or for worse and he’d prefer better, assuming he survived the morning.

  ‘Lord Howsham made the first insult. It’s up to him to apologise.’ Justin rolled his head against the stiffness in his neck, eager to get on with this business.

  Across the field, Philip stood talking with Lord Sutton, Lord Howsham’s second. Justin wasn’t surprised to find one coward standing beside another, Susanna’s half-brother throwing in his lot with the man who’d stood against his own sister’s husband. A small part of him wished the arrogant earl would relent and apologise. Judging by the sneers he tossed at Justin from out of his two blackened eyes, it wasn’t likely.

  While they waited for the seconds to finish their conversation, Justin didn’t pace. He wasn’t about to fret in front of all these people, or his opponent. As much as he might dream of a life with Susanna after this morning, once the duel was over, there could be other problems to face. He didn’t doubt he could kill Lord Howsham. Every time he thought of what he’d done to Susanna, Justin wanted to put a ball through the earl, but duelling was illegal. He might drop the man for his crimes, then find himself on the long end of a short rope for murder. He’d been audacious enough to challenge a peer to a fight, he didn’t want to risk execution. It meant winging the earl and hoping he didn’t die of gangrene. He should have sent Mr Tenor to book passage for him on a ship out of England, just in case. Fleeing was safer than avoiding the constable, assuming Lord Howsham didn’t get off a lucky shot. They might both be dead before noon.

  Just
in glanced at the carriages along the ridge, wondering which unadorned one carried Lady Rockland. No doubt she was here to watch her son stand with Lord Howsham against Justin with great pleasure. In a short while, Justin would see to it Lady Rockland choked on her relish.

  Susanna wasn’t amongst the crowd. He hadn’t seen her since leaving her on the doorstep last night. There’d been no note, no good wishes or sudden appearances before sunrise to talk him out of the duel. She’d pleaded her case with him last night and he’d ignored it, so there was no reason for her to be here and nothing she could say which would stop him. It was too late.

  The conversation between the seconds ended and Philip strode back across the moist earth to Justin and Dr Hale.

  ‘Well?’ Dr Hale asked, more anxious than Justin when Philip returned.

  ‘He won’t apologise.’

  ‘Good.’ Justin tugged his gloves off, then stuffed them into the pocket of his coat. ‘Time to satisfy my honour.’

  He marched across the grass, the soggy earth giving way beneath his boots as he approached his adversary. Dr Hale and Philip followed behind him in the silence which swept through the waiting crowd at the sight of the two men coming together.

  ‘I didn’t think you gentleman enough to appear this morning, Mr Connor,’ Lord Sutton taunted.

  ‘How’s the stomach?’ Justin smiled coldly at his despicable brother-in-law.

  ‘You’ll get yours this morning.’ Lord Sutton glowered.

  ‘Let’s begin,’ Lord Howsham demanded, but not with his friend’s bravado. His hand shook as he waved his manservant over, his eyes darting to Justin’s, then everywhere around the park as he shifted from foot to foot.

  Justin stood straight as an oak, his eyes boring into the earl’s as the manservant approached with the burled wooden case carrying the pistols. If sheer bravado could force an apology out of Lord Howsham, he’d stare him down until sunset, but the earl, with his honour at stake, refused to yield. Good, Justin wanted a fight.

  The manservant opened the case, revealing two shiny pistols resting on blue velvet. Justin picked up the closest and examined it, looking for any evidence of tampering. He wouldn’t put it past the man to rig the duel, but with so many of his peers watching, it seemed he’d decided to rely on his talent instead of more nefarious methods to win this challenge. If so, it wasn’t a fair fight.

  He handed the pistol to Philip who looked it over and, silently agreeing with Justin’s assessment, handed it back to him.

  ‘The pistols are acceptable, then?’ Lord Howsham questioned.

  ‘Quite.’ Justin dropped the weapon to his side, adjusting his fingers on the handle and getting a feel for the weight of it. He’d handled many weapons, none as fine as this, but in the end they were all the same whether they were polished to a gleam or tarnished with grime.

  The manservant closed the case, then handed it to another. ‘Twenty paces, gentlemen. The first to draw blood wins. You have both met here and proven your bravery. Mr Connor, do you feel your honour is satisfied?’

  ‘No, not unless Lord Howsham publicly apologises to me and my wife.’

  The man paled before seeming to revive what little courage he’d mustered for the morning. ‘You’ll have to shoot me first.’

  ‘If you insist, though I want it noted, he demanded it.’ Justin turned his back on the earl, waiting for him to do the same.

  The grass shifted behind him and he heard more than felt Lord Howsham’s back meeting his.

  ‘You’ll regret this, Connor,’ Lord Howsham hissed.

  ‘If I do, it won’t be because of your bad aim.’

  ‘Twenty paces, gentlemen,’ the manservant announced. ‘One—’

  With each call of the number, Justin and Lord Howsham moved away from one another.

  Justin cleared his mind, caressing the trigger with his finger, figuring out the distance between him and the earl and where best to aim. The calculations would come together in an instant the minute the manservant reached twenty and Justin turned to fire. He didn’t know much about the earl, but he’d heard more rumours of his debt than his duelling abilities; yet even a poor shot could get lucky once in a while.

  In the distance, where the field met the road, a gig came racing up the hill. Justin was about to look away, to centre himself again on the weapon and what he was about to do when he noticed his father at the reins. Susanna sat beside him, gripping his arm as his father pulled the gig to a stop. She jumped down and with Mr Connor close behind her, hurried across the grass, the hem of her white dress growing dark from the dew wetting it. She stopped as close as she dared, but she was so near Justin could see her green eyes made more vivid by the red of many shed tears.

  ‘Ten, eleven—’

  Justin’s pace didn’t slacken, but his grip on the pistol tightened. Around her people whispered and pointed, but she saw none of it, focused on him with a worry which could melt a man’s heart.

  I love you. Don’t do this, she mouthed as he continued to step away from his opponent.

  His determination threatened to desert him and he struggled to maintain his grip on it and the weapon. It was too late, he couldn’t back out now and hope to save face. Once the two men turned, fate would decide if one, both or neither of them walked away. If Justin died, what would it be for? These weren’t his people. He’d never given a fig for their opinion or approval before, yet he’d allowed his pride, his need to prove himself to her and everyone, to drag him to this field. There was no reason for him to do it. He already possessed her faith in him and he always had. She’d believed in him enough to help him, not just with the business, but with his father. She’d cared for him. Yes, she’d deceived him, but it’d been to protect her child and because she’d been afraid to lose him and the life he’d offered her.

  The pain in her green eyes in the chaise when she’d told him about losing everyone she’d ever loved echoed between them now. She clung tight to Justin’s father’s arm, his skin as pale as hers with worry. They both loved him and he was hurting them by risking his life. His death would crush his father like his mother’s had and it would destroy Susanna, too.

  Her eyes held his and it wasn’t pride in what he was doing which wrapped around his heart, but shame. Nearly everyone who should have loved her had failed her and Justin was throwing his name on the heap, shoving her aside and risking their life together for his own selfish means. The toffs might respect this display of honour, but this wasn’t who Justin was or the kind of man he wanted to be.

  ‘Eighteen, nineteen—’

  ‘Stop. I withdraw my challenge,’ Justin announced, sending a gasp racing through the crowd. He saw Susanna sag against his father in relief before he turned to Lord Howsham and lowered his pistol.

  ‘Are you too much of a coward to face me?’ Lord Howsham taunted, puffing out his chest in victory.

  Justin flung the gun away and marched up to the earl. The man shifted one foot behind him and raised his pistol as though he expected Justin to fall upon him. Justin had no such designs. He brought his chest right up to the snub, the cold metal hard against his shirt.

  ‘Go ahead, shoot me. Show everyone here what a brave man and how superior you are by killing me,’ Justin growled.

  ‘No!’ Susanna cried, her voice carrying over the mist of the morning settling on the grass.

  The silent crowd watched, mesmerised.

  ‘You should listen to your wife,’ Lord Howsham suggested, but Justin sensed the tremble in his hand through the barrel of the pistol.

  He continued to stare down Lord Howsham until the arrogant sneer he’d worn since last night began to fail. The earl’s attention darted from Justin to the spectators then back again. Beneath Lord Howsham’s red hair, a small bead of sweat slid down to his round jaw. He wouldn’t kill him, Justin knew it as well as he knew the bookseller would never come back. Everything Lord Howsham had done, from his relationship with Susanna to his smearing of Justin’s character, had been executed either in
secrecy or from behind the anonymity of a mask. Now he was in front of everyone who mattered to him, his deed made public for all to see. If he killed Justin, he’d be killing an unarmed man. If society didn’t shun him for it, the law would certainly hang him.

  Somewhere behind him a horse whinnied and the sound was joined by the faint call of a bird far off in the high grass.

  At last, Lord Howsham lowered his gun. ‘I’m sorry for the offence against you and your wife.’

  ‘Say it again and this time so everyone can hear,’ Justin insisted.

  Lord Howsham took a deep breath, screwing his lips tight in defiance before he at last spoke up, silencing the birds in the trees. ‘I’m sorry for the offence against you and your wife.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’ Justin turned his back on Lord Howsham and strode across the field towards Susanna.

  She let go of his father and raced to him, the same joy he felt in his chest making her glow.

  She threw her arms around him and buried her face against his neck as he hugged her tight, her love more precious than even his honour.

  ‘You’re safe, you’re safe,’ she sobbed, her tears as tender as her body against his.

  ‘You doubted me?’ Justin laughed as he curled his arms around her, inhaling her jasmine scent as though he’d come back from the dead.

  ‘I’ve never doubted you, I couldn’t.’ She shifted back within the circle of his arms, her tear-stained face wrinkling in displeasure at his carefree smile. She clutched at his lapels and pulled herself up on the balls of her feet to better face him. ‘Don’t you ever scare me like that again. He might have killed you.’

  ‘I knew he wouldn’t.’