Page 74 of The Virgin Duchess

“You want to know what I think,” Frederick ran a disapproving glare up and down the Baron, “Thomas?I think you are too much of an inept coward to do anything better with your life than con ladies out of their money. You’re pathetic, and you should be living your life with the scum of the earth behind bars where you belong.”

Quick as a bolt of lightning and just a fierce, Halfacre reared his hand back only to bring it back down again across Frederick’s face. The blow was a fiery crack against his skin, and Fredrick allowed himself to fall backward, tumbling over the ground end over end.

Still, he’d done it. He got what he needed to potentially survive this situation. With distance between them, Frederick pulled out his pistol and pointed it directly at the Baron as he came charging forward.

Halfacre pulled up short, skidding to a stop as his eyes flared wide. That stare landed on the gun in Frederick’s hand, and he sneered at him, the disbelief and fury making the whites of Halfacre’s eyes bloodshot.

“My, my, my. And what do we have here? The Duke of Mullens has pulled a firearm on me. Rather prepared for the situation, weren’t you? Did you seek me out to shoot me, Frederick?”

Glaring, Frederick didn’t falter, holding the pistol steady, leveled with the Baron’s heart. He stood up from the ground, never taking his eyes off Halfacre.

“I had notintendedto shoot you, but I was prepared to do so. As I am now.” Frederick clenched his jaw, the anger and grief he felt over his sister’s nearly devastating encounter with the man fresh in his mind. “You sought to ruin her. You were going to leave my sister destitute and without the potential to get married. And for what? Money? You are a cad, a rogue. You are a bastard as sure as any.”

Halfacre spit on the ground, the globule landing too near Frederick’s shoe.

“Then go ahead. Shoot. Rid the world of my presence. At least I shall no longer be forced to endure the tiresome torment of your incessant sniveling and pitiable existence."

Frederick took a step forward, then another and another. He pressed the barrel of the pistol to Halfacre’s forehead and gripped the man’s shirt, glaring down at him.

“I should. I should rid the world of you. It would be better off.”

Silence hung around them, still enough to hear a pin drop. Everything inside Frederick burned, this growing, infectious anger demanding that he eliminate the Baron and save other women like Rose the misfortune of meeting him.

But he couldn’t.

“I am not a monster, Halfacre. I am not like you.” Frederick stepped back. “But my patience is not infinite. Get out of town. Go as far away as you can, and if I so much as hear the inkling that you have returned, that you are up no good, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Halfacre eyed him, unmoving. Frederick pointed the pistol at the ground, firing next to the Baron’s foot.

“Don’t test me, Thomas. I have shown you mercy, but it can change in a blink. That was hardly my only shot.”

Stepping back, his hands up in the air in surrender, Halfacre turned down the corners of his mouth, appraising Frederick.

“I will admit,” he began, still slowly creeping backward, “I am impressed you had the gall to take it this far. I will leave.”

Frederick didn’t respond, only watching the Baron slip further into the darkness. Some of the tension pinching down on Frederick’s spine loosened, and the pain swelling through hisbody was suddenly so loud. His vision had been blurring ever so slightly, and it picked up—more and more with each retreating step the Baron took.

I am wavering. I shall not be able to stand much longer.

It was a thought that sent a shiver down Frederick’s spine. He had not realized how much he had been injured, too distracted by the events going on around him. But focusing on the sensation of his body, Frederick could feel the dizziness in his head and the weakness in his arms and legs.

“Hang on, Freddie. Hang on,” he whispered to himself, using that dreadful nickname his father always used.

Halfacre was nearly invisible in the shadows once again, and Frederick began to relax his arm. It dropped to his side harsher than he wanted, and after a few more seconds, Frederick hung his head, his stance wavering a bit more.

Crack.

Something snapped behind him, and Frederick spun on his heel, trying to raise the gun up. His wrist was stopped midair, and a hot, direct pinch landed in his stomach, far off to the left side.

“It really is hard to concentrate with a head injury, isn’t it?” Halfacre must’ve circled around the room in the shadows, and his knife was buried in Frederick’s side. “Poor Frederick. I do hope that your little wife is relieved to be free of you at last.”

Dread and sweat washed over him. Frederick could feel his temperature spike abruptly, the pain in his side getting worse as the Baron held his blade shoved into him.

“Frederick!”

The sound of a familiar feminine voice cut through the haze, and the Duke snapped his attention to the door off to the side. Coming out from the shadows at a dead run was Charlotte.

How in the hell…

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