Page 63 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
The Day of the Duel – The Duel Proper
London, England, October 1814
Jonathan stood in the gardens behind the grand house. They were lower in elevation than Pall Mall situated to the front of the structure. The congregation of guests had left the Gothic Dining room through large glass doors that opened right onto the gardens. All of it was magnificently appointed.
It was the first time that day that Jonathan truly felt a little nervous. His experience as a sea captain told him that this was a healthy sentiment because men that did not feel fear ended up dead. Brave men knew how to channel the sentiment and use it to their advantage. Jonathan could do this. However, it was different this time. Amelia was in the crowd looking at him. For the first time in his life, he had something to lose.
What must she feel? Her father was about to face the man she loved in deadly combat. One way or another one of them was going to die. It just remained to be determined whom. It was a sick twist of fate, but that was how it was, and sometimes a man had to accept the cards he was dealt and do his utmost to alter the fate given to him if he could.
Amelia watched Jonathan’s every move. She smiled. He had obviously had a new suit of clothes made for the occasion by one of the city’s renowned tailors. He looked so handsome in his fashionable dark blue tailcoat with the self-fabric covered buttons. His brocaded silk waistcoat matched it perfectly and extended to the top of his trousers, the newde rigeurgarment introduced by Beau Brummell. All in all, Jonathan was a shiny new penny.
“May I ask the seconds to approach,” announced the regent. His cheeks were flushed from too much alcohol consumption during the luncheon. He swayed a little on his feet, and the unseasonably hot weather was getting to him.
During lunch, he had been in excellent spirits, insulting Sir Thomas at every turn. However, he never made an uncouth remark about Amelia and the fact that she had spurned Lord Templeton French in favor of Jonathan. It somehow was strange for he was bound to be aware of the gossip and the insult she had accorded the Duke of Brandon and his son.
“Is there any possibility of reconciliation without going through with the duel?” asked Priney of Jake and Sir Arthur.
Jake looked at Sir Arthur with hope in his eyes. The other man shook his head curtly. “I am afraid not, Your Royal Highness. The duel must go on,” said Sir Arthur in a loud and clear voice that carried over the heads of the over one hundred people present.
“Does your man accept, Jake?” asked the regent, looking slightly perturbed.
“Yes, he does, Priney,” said Jake.
Despite the gravity of the moment, laughter eddied over the grounds. The regent could barely contain his mirth. He had forgotten that he had told Jake to call him by his sobriquet when they were at the White’s Club. Jake obviously was not aware that in moments such as this, he was to revert to addressing him by his royal title.
“Good,” said the regent. “Seconds, you may converse with your men, and then I will call you to make your choice of the loaded weapons,” said the regent in a surprisingly clear tone. He indicated with his head. Promptly, two men, obviously from the military, started preparing the dueling pistols.
“Good afternoon, Amelia. It is good to see you again,” said a familiar voice. “Although I would have preferred it were under more auspicious circumstances, but sometimes one cannot choose, eh?”
Amelia turned around. It was the Duke of Brandon. Contrary to all etiquette, she took the elderly gentleman in her arms and hugged him as if for dear life itself.
“My, my, my dear. You must have really missed me. ‘Tis a shame you did not share the same sentiments for my son,” he said. There was no trace of malice or any other angry sentiment in his voice.
When Amelia stepped back, all she could see was the duke’s customary mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I am so sorry about that, your Grace. I know it was wrong of me to do what I did. Especially after you have been so kind to me.”
“Now, now, there is no need to apologize. I know that my son is not the most heartwarming individual. It comes from my wife spoiling him too much when he was but a boy. I tried to make her stop or at least dampen her ardor, but you know how some mothers are.”
The Duke smiled at Amelia. His gaze swept over the lawn until it came to a rest on Jonathan. “So, you love this American do you?”
Amelia turned her head. She watched Jonathan for a few heartbeats longer. Jake had put him in position a few feet away from her father. The expressions on both men’s faces were stoic. In the meantime, Jake was selecting a weapon from an ornate wooden box, presented to him by one of the regent’s servants. After he had chosen, Sir Arthur took the remaining weapon.
Both full-stocked flintlock dueling pistols, fashioned by Joseph Simmons of London, were loaded. They were beautiful weapons with gold lines and platinum vents. The handles were made of polished wood, and the sides by the hammer had intricate designs in gold.
“Yes, I do,” said Amelia, at last, referring to the duke’s question. Seeing Jake and Sir Arthur taking the weapons had something so final about it.
“Then this must be a most trying moment for you, my dear,” said the Duke.
“It is, your Grace. One of the hardest I have had to endure in my life.” The other one was being in the presence of the old duke’s son and knowing there was no way out of their engagement. But she would never say that. No matter how boorish the man, for a father always finds it in him to love his son, no matter what.
The Duke of Brandon sighed. “It is such a shame I don’t get to have you as my daughter-in-law anymore. But I do understand your not wanting to marry my son.” The expression on his face became hard. “I have made arrangements for him to obtain…how shall I say…a little more pluck.”
Amelia couldn’t help but arch her eyebrows. If her mother were nearby, she would immediately reprimand her for pulling faces. Ladies just did not do such things. “Oh!”
“Yes, I thought a small spell in India might do him some good. I have a few good connections with the British East India Company. They were delighted to have him. He left a few days ago.”
“What if something happens to him?” asked Amelia, knowing of every peer’s obsession with securing an heir to the title.
“I have a brother you know. He has a son. The young man has his head screwed on in the right place. Instead of carousing around London bedding harlots and making a fool of himself, he is in the Duke of Wellington’s staff.” The duke winked. “So, all is not lost, my dear.”
