She raced into the hallway and nearly barreled into the butler. “Please see me out now.” Her rushed words got no visible reaction from the man other than his inclining his head and striding at a brisk pace down the hall. Audrey’s heart thundered in her chest. She strained to hear footsteps behind her as she hurried down the hall. Perhaps Trent would call out and demand she stop? When she got to the front door and the butler opened it for her, she was trembling all over.
Trent hadn’t come after her. He hadn’t halted her departure, begged her to stay or even bothered to bid her farewell. It was for the best. She was so hurt and angry she thought she very well might slap him again, and that wouldn’t do. She didn’t want him to know how much he’d wounded her. At least she’d never told him she loved him. He would never know for certain what a fool she’d been for him.
She repeated the thought to herself as she settled herself in her carriage and waited for the door to be closed. The minute it clicked shut and the carriage dipped down with the weight of Mr. Barrett taking the driver’s seat, she buried her face in her hands and cried all the way to her home. Once there, she wiped her tears and took a deep, steadying breath. It was time to harden her heart and forget Trent. The devil wasn’t worth her tears.
Early the next morning, Trent stared across Hamstead Heath Park and tried to force his thoughts to the impending duel. The green grass of the park blurred and Audrey’s anguished face appeared in his mind. The sleepless night had done nothing to fill the hollowness that had taken up residency in his chest since the moment he’d forced himself to let her leave yesterday.
A man who didn’t know for certain whether his wife was dead or not didn’t bloody well deserve to contemplate a future with anyone else, especially when it seemed the woman he’d been considering a future with wanted more than a marriage of convenience. She wanted his love and that was the one damned thing, married or not, he could never give her. Love was for blind fools.
A sharp jab in his side snapped him out of his meanderings. He shot a glare at Dinnisfree. “Why did you elbow me?”
His friend returned his glare. “It’s my job as your second to keep you focused until the duel begins, and you’re hardly focused. Snap out of whatever, or rather whoever, has your thoughts, though I’m sure I know who.”
Heat crept up Trent’s neck. He jerked his head in agreement. “There’ll be plenty of years to question whether I’ve made the right choices.”
Dinnisfree paused in inspecting the pistol that Thortonberry had given them. Trent clenched his teeth. Considering the way Audrey was suffering because of him, it served him right that he had to suffer Thortonberry as Bridgeport’s second. Dinnisfree raised the pistol to his chin and slid the metal back and forth over his beard, an ironic smile coming to his lips. “You need years to figure out if you made the right decisions, you say?”
He hated the way Dinnisfree liked to make his point by leading with questions. Trent was about one second away from smashing his fist into his friend’s too-perfect nose. Instead, he held out his hand for the pistol, which Dinnisfree slapped handle-down into Trent’s palm. He curled his fingers around the weapon, weighing it and calculating the distance from himself to Bridgeport and what would be the opportune time to delope. Calculations completed, he flicked his gaze across the dewy grass where Bridgeport stood, pistol in hand and feet spread to shoot. A rush of anticipation surged through Trent. Despite the fact he fully intended to delope once Bridgeport took a shot, Trent couldn’t control his body’s natural defensive reaction. He rolled his shoulders to try to relax.
Dinnisfree clasped him on the arm “Are you sure about this?”
Trent nodded, keeping his gaze on Bridgeport. “The man doesn’t have a chance in hell of hitting me. I’ll delope and it will be over and for the best.”
“If you say so, but I don’t like the looks of Bridgeport.”
Trent focused in on Audrey’s brother. His features were tight, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
The duke shook his head. “There’s more on that man’s mind than his sister’s reputation.”
“Likely you’re right,” Trent agreed. “But whatever is weighing on Bridgeport’s conscience isn’t going to make him a better shot.”
“Take your marks, gentlemen,” Thortonberry called out.
Dinnisfree cleared away from Trent as he raised his pistol for show. There was no need to announce his plans to delope. He wanted Bridgeport to feel as vindicated as possible. Hopefully the man would think Trent considered him a superior shot and was acknowledging it with his actions.
Time to concentrate. He shoved all thoughts aside as Thortonberry called the firing signal. Bridgeport’s pistol recoiled with a harsh bang across the clearing and Trent jerked in reaction. The shot, just as he’d known it would be, was no danger. Trent raised his pistol straight to the sky and fired.
His plan completed, he found Dinnisfree to his left to assure himself the duel was over. Dinnisfree nodded his head in acknowledgement while walking toward Thortonberry to formally agree the duel was completed.
The rushing of blood in Trent’s ears blocked out all sound around him but that of his own heart’s effort to send blood throughout his body. Considering and discarding the best thing to say to Bridgeport, he turned his gaze back to Audrey’s brother.
Odd. He was hunched over, fussing with his ankle like he’d twisted it. When Bridgeport straightened, the hairs on the back of Trent’s neck stood on end. What the hell was the man doing? Bridgeport held a second pistol and strode toward him.
The call for action shot through Trent’s body. Hell and damn. His fingers curled around an empty pistol.
Bridgeport’s mouth twisted into a sneer.
“Bridgeport,” Trent barked.
Audrey’s brother stopped five feet away. Close enough for the bloodthirsty idiot to hit him.
He pointed the pistol at Trent.
Trent tensed. Too late to run and nowhere to hide. Hell of a way to die.
“Bridgeport,” Dinnisfree roared. “I’ll kill you if you take that shot.”
A spark flashed in the distance.
Powder. Fire.
Trent dived to the right, the pistol shot filling his ears. The ground came hard and fast, forcing air from his lungs in a powerful explosion. He greedily sucked air back in. Rolling into a crouch, he scanned the park. Bridgeport lay prone under a raging Dinnisfree.
Footsteps thundered to a halt by his side. Thortonberry, huffing out air, loomed over Trent. “Lay back, Davenport, you’ve been hit.” Thortonberry said dully.
“No.” Trent shook his head. “He missed me.”
“I beg to differ.” Thortonberry pointed, his lips pursing.
Trent could not tell if the man was fighting a smile or trying not to grimace.
“He got you in the arm.”
Trent glanced down, surprised to see blood dripping on the grass and his shirtsleeve stained dark crimson. Delayed pain exploded, searing a fiery path of agony up his arm. “Bloody fool,” Trent snarled, trying to stand even as the ground tilted in front of him. Above him the physician appeared. Trent frowned. Was he on the ground? Unsure, he set his good palm down. Cool, wet grass caressed his skin. Hell, he’d fallen on his back. Numbness crawled up his injured arm at an alarmingly rapid rate. “Thortonberry,” he growled as the doctor pushed him all the way down and ripped his shirtsleeve to get at the wound.
Thortonberry knelt and quirked his eyebrow. “Do you have some dying words you want me to convey to Lady Audrey?” Unmistakable amusement laced his tone.
Fierce anger surged through Trent. He used all his strength to reach up and grab the man’s coat lapels to jerk him near. The effort caused bright spots of light to pepper his vision before little dots of black appeared. “Keep quiet about this and stay the hell away from Lady Audrey.”
Thortonberry smirked. “I hardly think you are in a position to demand anything, not that you ever were. However, you can rest or die assured, be that
as it may, that I would never mention a word of this duel. My every thought is for Lady Audrey and how to protect her.”
Even though most of the man’s words angered Trent, he was satisfied that Thortonberry meant what he said and would never utter a word of the duel. Trent released his hold and thudded back against the grass. He tried to fight the darkness shutting out all the light, but it was hopeless. As blackness started to consume everything but a picture of a brilliantly shining Audrey smiling at him, Trent realized Thortonberry had failed to promise to stay away from her. He struggled to form a proper threat, but his numb lips refused to cooperate.
The moment Audrey heard the carriage wheels rolling across the gravel drive she abandoned her pretense of embroidering and turned to her aunt. “Aunt Hillie, please let me speak with Richard first. He is likely to say more if it is just the two of us.”
Her aunt nodded. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Audrey pressed a kiss to her aunt’s cheek and raced out of the house to meet the carriage. Lord Thortonberry, his eyebrows drawn together in a fierce frown, descended the carriage first, followed swiftly by her brother. She scanned Richard, saw no signs of a wound and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Trent had been true to his word. Clearly, he’d deloped, because otherwise her brother would be injured or dead. Despite the deep hurt Trent had inflicted on her, gratitude swelled within her chest.
She waited for a moment to speak, assuming Lord Thortonberry would excuse himself and take the path that led from their house to his, but when it became clear he intended to stay, she slipped her arm through her brother’s. She chose her words with care, so as not to alert him that she knew Trent had deloped. “Tell me what happened. I hope Lord Davenport is not too wounded.”
Richard met her question with silence. Uneasy, she shifted and studied her brother. His wild gaze, nothing like a man who had put part of his troubles behind him, caused icy tendrils of fear to race across her skin and made her shiver. “What have you done, Richard?” The question was a shaky whisper.
Richard wrenched away from her, ignoring her completely. He wheeled toward Lord Thortonberry. “See how accusing her tone sounds,” he bellowed. He waved a hand at Thortonberry. “Tell her how Davenport mocked me.”
She met Lord Thortonberry’s gaze. When he lifted his head upward, it appeared as if he might be agreeing, but then he gave the slightest shake of his head, his lips pursing in the strangest way, as if he had been reluctant to tell her. Probably he did not want her to know her brother had done something dishonorable. Her stomach twisted. “Richard,” she said in a low, patient tone, though desperation nearly choked her. “You must tell me what happened.”
“You cannot command me.” Richard bit out each word.
Audrey barely stopped herself from screaming. She took a ragged breath and swung her gaze to Lord Thortonberry. “I am begging you to tell me. All of it. Honestly.”
Lord Thortonberry narrowed his gaze, then dipped his head to her. “He shot Davenport after the duel was over and had been called.”
Stunned and sickened, she repeated the information, certain she must have heard incorrectly “Richard shot Lord Davenport?”
“Yes. In the arm. Davenport deloped.” Lord Thortonberry’s words displayed nary a hint of emotion.
“Get off my property,” Richard shouted, charging at his oldest and dearest friend.
“Stop it,” Audrey shrieked, instinctually lunging for and wrapping both her hands around her brother’s arm. Richard dragged her across the grass for a moment before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
He stopped, panting where he stood, and glanced down at her, his eyes glazed and blazing. Slowly, he pried her fingers away from his arm. “I’m quite collected now. You’ve no need to worry.”
She nodded, though uncertainty filled her.
Her brother breathed deeply before speaking. “Davenport mocked me, I tell you, and therefore showed me your honor meant nothing to him.”
She shook her head, tears sliding down her face. “No, Richard, he wasn’t mocking you.” Lord Thortonberry raised a questioning eyebrow at her, as if he agreed with Richard. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I asked Lord Davenport to delope.” No need to go into the exact details of how she’d asked him. Let Richard think she’d sent a note. “I was worried for your safety. I―” Richard scowled at her. She stepped back, putting more than an arm’s length between them. She didn’t want to further wound Richard’s pride, but he had to know he was wrong about Trent. The hatred burning in his eyes worried her. Swallowing, she forced herself to continue. “I was concerned if the duel went forward as planned. I―” She gulped. “Everyone says what an excellent shot Lord Davenport is.”
“And you think me incapable?” Richard bellowed.
“No.” But that was partially a lie. Probably, Richard could be a rather good shot if he would quit drinking and practice but that was likely never going to happen.
Richard advanced toward her, but Lord Thortonberry stepped in front of her and blocked him. “Bridgeport, you need to calm down.”
Richard’s face mottled red. “You think to tell me what to do, standing on my property? Why did you move in front of my sister? She needs no protection from me.” Richard’s voice was so loud Audrey had the urge to press her hands against her ears.
“Are you certain?” Lord Thortonberry’s hard, doubt-filled tone made Audrey cringe. Though she appreciated his concern, his tactics were sure to further anger Richard.
Richard pointed to the stone path that they had taken a thousand times over the years to go from their home to Lord Thortonberry’s. “Leave. You are no longer welcome here.”
“Richard!” Horror filled Audrey. “You do not mean that.”
“I do. Now go, Thortonberry.”
Lord Thortonberry glanced at her with raised brows. She nodded. Presently, the best thing to do was comply, until Richard calmed himself. Tomorrow, surely, his temper would abate and he could apologize to Lord Thortonberry. Without a word, Lord Thortonberry turned on his heel, his boots clicking against the stones they struck as he walked. She watched as he disappeared around down the brushy, bush-lined path. He seemed to be swallowed into the overhanging vines from the looming trees. Once she no longer heard his footsteps, she turned to Richard.
Pain twisted his features. He eyed her. “You have ruined your chances of marriage with Mr. Shelton and everyone else who ever asked you. Now, you seem not to care that Lord Davenport refuses to marry you. You’re selfish,” he hissed. “We need money. Clearly more desperately than you comprehend. What shall we do now?” Richard threw his hands up in the air. “You are in mourning now! How will we go about quickly finding you a husband?”
Stunned at his tirade, it took her a moment to think what to say or ask. “How desperate is our financial situation? I tried asking Father several times, but he turned me away every time I asked.”
“We’re penniless,” Richard said tonelessly. “At first Father was trying to marry you off, so he’d have one less mouth to feed, but then he concocted the idea to sell you to the highest bidder, or the first.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, shoved away the pain and invited numbness. It started in her toes, spread like an uncontrolled fire up her legs, across her belly, climbed toward her chest and settled in her mind. There. That was much better. She felt as if she stood apart from herself and looked at a woman she did not know. She was an observer, for the moment, in her own life. “Was Mr. Shelton the first bidder, or the highest?”
“The first. All you had to do was cooperate and we could have been saved but you ruined everything with your lusting after Davenport.”
She supposed in a way that was true. Another question formed in her mind. “What happened to Father’s money?”
Richard shrugged. “What didn’t happen? Bad investments. Gambling. Drinking.”
She couldn’t help but glare at Richard, suspecting he had a part in their demis
e.
He narrowed his eyes. “It was not only me. Father gambled and drank long before me. Where do you think I learned my behavior from?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. Reality crashed back over her and made the numbness fade away. Her head pounded so harshly it was making thinking hard. “Is that everything?”
“Is not that enough?” His words dripped sarcasm. “The rest can wait for another day.”
“The rest?” Good, gracious. There was more? She clutched at her roiling stomach.
Richard snorted. “I’m tired and I’m done talking.” With that pronouncement, he stomped down the drive, up the steps and into the house with a bang.
She stood on the drive, unmoving. A soft breeze blew the scent of roses around her and the sun beamed down over her head. Normally, she would have considered this a glorious day, simply because of the weather. She pressed her hands to her face and tried to think what to do first. How could she help her brother and herself?
“Audrey.”
Lord Thortonberry’s soft tone directly behind her made her entire body tense. She whirled to face him. “I thought you had left,” she murmured. Something about the way his eyes appeared hooded bothered her. He blinked, as if reading her thoughts, and smiled. Perhaps she was being too touchy because of her strained nerves.
“I waited at the end of the path until I saw your brother go in. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
“How can I help?”
“Tell me how Lord Davenport is,” she blurted, wishing, as she saw the widening and then narrowing of Lord Thortonberry’s eyes, that she had found a more subtle way of asking the question.
“The doctor said it’s too early to tell. The biggest concern is infection. If that doesn’t kill Davenport in the next few days, then he has a good chance of living. The bullet lodged itself in his upper arm, but the doctor felt certain he could get it all out.” He sounded detached and hurt as he spoke, but that was surely wrong. What did Lord Thortonberry have to be hurt about?
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