The Historical Collection - Stephanie Laurens Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

Скачать книгу

exhaled with relief. “Thank you.”

      “Besides, he’s going to need a second,” Chase said.

      Ash nodded. “I’ll do my best to negotiate a resolution that doesn’t involve black powder.”

      “Hold a moment,” Chase objected, pulling on his coat. “Who said you were the second? I’m the second.”

      “You can be the third.”

      “The third? There’s no such thing as a third.”

      Ash groaned. “We’ll sort it out on the way.”

      After the men had left, Penny paced the floor. “There has to be something more we can do,” she told Alex, Emma, and Nicola. “I can’t simply sit here and sip tea all night.”

      “If I could move,” Alexandra said, “I’d be a great deal more help. Perhaps you could set me rolling like a giant pumpkin, and I could mow them down?”

      “Tempting.” Penny was grateful for the smile that image brought.

      “To be truthful, I’m not certain we can stop them,” Emma added. “Nicola’s right when she calls it archaic and stupid, but these are men we’re talking about. Wounded male pride has caused the world more destruction than the Black Death and the Great Flood put together.”

      Nicola’s eyebrows lifted. “Are we entirely certain men’s bruised feelings weren’t to blame for the plague and the deluge, too?”

      “A fair point,” Emma conceded.

      “If men are bent on destroying the world, we women must be the ones holding it together,” a newcomer to their gathering said. “The earth hasn’t crumbled yet.”

      Penny turned toward the familiar voice. “Aunt Caroline.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she rushed to her aunt and clasped her in a hug.

      “Oh, Penelope.” Her aunt patted her on the shoulder. “That’s enough.”

      Penny drew back.

      “Now”—Aunt Caroline sat in the nearest chair without even inspecting it for cat hair first—“tell me everything.”

       Chapter Thirty

      In St. James Park, fog swamped the new shoots of grass and wound through the budding tree branches. At the opposite end of the green, Lambert and Bradford were indecipherable figures in the mist.

      “We’ll have to reschedule,” Chase said. “As your second, I’ll go have a chat with the enemy.”

      Ashbury grabbed his friend by the collar, holding him back. “As the second, I’ll do it.”

      “No one is postponing anything,” Gabe said. “This bastard will not live to see another dawn. Not if I have something to say about it.”

      “Precisely how much shooting have you done?” Chase asked.

      “A fair amount.”

      “Right.” Ashbury looked grim. “So scarcely any.”

      “I’m not in the country shooting pheasants. The man’s going to be standing right in front of me.”

      “To be sure he will be. Right in front of you, somewhere in this soup of fog,” Ashbury complained. “You can scarcely see twenty paces, let alone hit a target with any accuracy.”

      Gabe shrugged. “His weather isn’t any better than mine.”

      “But his facility with a pistol is,” Ash replied. “Don’t be a clod. In particular, don’t be a dead clod.”

      Gabe extended his right arm, arranging his fingers into a mock pistol, and sized up the shot.

      “Allow me.” Chase nudged his friend aside. “Listen, Gabe. I feel bound to explain the potential consequences here. Dueling is illegal, to begin. It’s also bloody dangerous. Men die.”

      “Yes,” Gabe said impatiently. “That’s the point.”

      “There’s a solid chance you’ll be grievously, if not mortally, wounded. And if by some miracle you do kill Lambert, your chance of dying only increases. Odds are, you’d be charged with murder and hang for it.”

      Gabe shrugged. “Not much I can do about it now, is there?”

      “There is,” Ashbury said. “Delope. Count off the paces, and when you turn, fire your pistol straight up into the air. Then pray Lambert does the same.”

      “Why the hell would I do that?”

      “It’s a sort of truce. Means honor is satisfied.”

      “I will not be satisfied until that villain is dead. He doesn’t deserve honor. What he did to Penny was not merely despicable. It was unforgivable.”

      “We know. Her suffering is unfathomable. So if you love her, don’t put her through even more pain. If you were to die, she’d be devastated. Hell, even Chase and I would be …” He looked to his friend for the word.

      “Disappointed?” Chase suggested.

      “Let’s go with inconvenienced,” Ashbury replied.

      Chase nodded. “Someone has to eat the sandwiches.”

      “Thank you both for this touching moment.” Gabe shoved past them. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a rotting pile of human filth to murder.”

      “She loves you,” Chase said.

      “She loves anything with a face.” Gabe gestured at Ashbury’s scarred visage. “In your instance, half a face. If I die, she will find someone else.”

      “I’ve known Penny since we were children,” Ashbury said. “Yes, she’ll extend love to the most miserable of creatures. But much as I hate to admit it, this is different. I’ve never seen her like this before.”

      “Delope,” Chase said. “Do it for her.”

      Gabe spoke through a clenched jaw. “Everything I will ever do for the remainder of my life—whether that life lasts ten minutes or fifty years—is for her. I don’t require your approval, and I don’t need you as my goddamned second and third.” When neither of the two men moved, Gabe bellowed at them, “Begone.”

      Before walking away, Chase leaned close. “Just as a point of clarification, in case you do die … Which of us would you say was the second, and which the third?”

      “For Christ’s sake.” Gabe was going to finish this. Now. He stalked across the green, took one of the prepared dueling pistols from the case, and approached Lambert until they stood toe-to-toe. “We don’t have to do this.”

      “Are you offering to apologize for this grievous misunderstanding?”

      “No.” He jammed the barrel of the pistol into Lambert’s gut. “I’m thinking I’ll skip over the ten paces nonsense and shoot you right now in cold blood.”

      Lambert made a croaking noise. “You’d hang for that.”

      “Perhaps.”

      The fact might have dissuaded Gabe—if he wasn’t a dead man already.

      Ash and Chase were right. He would be at a disadvantage shooting from any distance, and he’d be committing a crime punishable by death. Maybe he’d survive the duel, but he’d be captured soon afterward—and if he didn’t succeed in killing Lambert, it would have been for nothing. If he was going to swing from the end of a noose, he might as well go out knowing he’d meet this monster in Hell.

      “You won’t get away with it,” Lambert said. “Everyone knows what you are. Word about the ton is that

Скачать книгу