Page 64 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
Amelia gulped. She had never expected the sweet old duke to be so hard. But she guessed men in his position had to be. Jonathan had been severe, and she assumed, that on occasion, he could be brutal. It was the times they lived in. The duke tapped her on the shoulder.
“It looks like it is about to begin,” he said. “I will leave you now, dear Amelia. I think that you would rather witness this ordeal as privately as possible.”
Amelia grabbed his arm. “Your Grace, please don’t go. It would mean a lot to me if you stayed by my side.”
He nodded. “Of course, my dear.”
“Set the markers,” announced the prince regent.
Promptly, two men walked forward from the center of the pitch in the opposite direction carrying swords. After twenty paces each, they stopped and plunged the swords into the turf.
“The markers have been laid. Seconds, have you chosen your weapons and are they loaded and ready?” The prince was in his element. He was doing an excellent job as a quasi-master of ceremonies. When both men nodded and verbally affirmed, he continued, “Seconds, you may hand over the weapons to your charges.”
Amelia could barely breathe when she saw Jonathan take the gun from Jake. Her gaze swerved nervously to her father who took his from Sir Arthur. Both men knew what they were doing as they weighed the pistols in their hands.
“Pistols to shoulders and about face! When I start counting you may advance to the appointed place. Anything other than that will result in the offending person forfeiting the bout.”
The boom of the prince’s voice that had lost all of its squeakiness startled Amelia. Promptly, the duke placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Amelia. Close your eyes if you must.”
“ONE – TWO – THREE – FOUR…”
The count seemed interminable. Amelia thought that she could feel every heartbeat pounding in Jonathan’s chest. Her eyes were fixed on him. Yet somehow, she couldn’t see anything. She knew that he had removed his tailcoat and that he fought in just his waistcoat. She was not able to look at her father. A voice in her head told her that she should, making her feel guilty. But something inside of her blamed him for all of this.
“EIGHTEEN - NINETEEN – TWENTY!”
“Close your eyes, dear. You do not have to see this,” repeated the duke, kindly.
Amelia shook her head. She had to see it all. Looking at Jonathan, she saw the same steely resolve she had seen on board theTriton. The man truly was a warrior. She knew he must feel it, but there was not a trace of fear to be seen on his face.
A look at her father confirmed that he was equally as determined, no matter how likely that may seem to judge by his beefiness. He may not be a warrior, but he was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Amelia’s father was like a terrier. He’d never let go until he won or died in the process. In their own particular ways, they were both brave men.
“Gentlemen, cock your pistols,” broadcasted the regent.
CLICK! CLICK!
The sound was almost earsplitting in the otherwise silent environs. Amelia could feel her heart pounding in her ears.Oh, what must it be like for Jonathan if I already feel like this? I must be strong for him. He must not see the fear in my eyes.Amelia straightened her posture. She felt her resolve flow back into her. The duke sensed it too. He nodded at her, impressed by her courage.
“You may turn…and await my command to fire,” said the prince who truly acted the field marshal in the manner his attire suggested.
Time seemed to slow to a standstill. To Amelia, it was like the slow tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway at her father’s London residence. Time always moved forward at the same speed no matter the circumstances – it was just the way of things. However, there were moments like this when perception was the only thing controlling the advance of time. It made it seem as if it was being dragged through hot treacle, making time appear elusive and interminable.
“FIRE!”
BANG!
The first shot had been fired almost at the same time as the prince gave the command.Who was it? Who fired first?Amelia felt dizzy. Her gaze flitted between her father and Jonathan. Both men were still on their feet. The crowd was silent. Many of the onlookers, particularity the ladies, held their hands to their mouths.
“Look, your American friend still has a ball in his chamber,” said the duke. “He is the one who decides who lives or dies. The smoke swirls around your father – he was the one who shot first.”
Amelia had not bothered to notice this. She quickly looked at Jonathan and frowned;something’s wrong– he swayed on his feet a little. The expression on his face was strained. To Amelia it appeared his lifeblood was seeping out of him with every passing moment.
Like a predator stalking prey, Jonathan lowered his pistol until it was pointed directly at her father. Sir Thomas did not flinch despite the knowledge that his death was imminent. As before, time oozed by with barely any acuity. Her heartbeat became more erratic and persistent.Is he going to kill my father?
No matter how happy she was that Jonathan still stood, Amelia did not want her father to die. His fate was now in Jonathan’s hands. One…two…three…her heartbeats kept going on and on as nature intended. She wanted it to stop, to fall down and wish it all away.
“BANG!”
Amelia’s hand flew to her mouth. She stared at her father who still stood. He did not move a muscle. She looked at Jonathan again. Smoke eddied around his person, partially hiding his head from view. When it subsided was when she first noticed him swaying on his feet.
