Page 74 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
The mist clung to the fields on the edge of town, a pale shroud that softened the jagged edges of the world and cloaked it in an eerie stillness. Evan stood at the edge of the field, his hands tucked into the pockets of his greatcoat to shield them from the biting chill of the dawn air. Beside him, Cedric leaned casually against a low stone wall, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he surveyed the empty expanse before them.
“He’s late,” Cedric drawled, his voice carrying the dry humor that Evan had come to rely on in times like these. “Perhaps Lord Gillies decided he’d rather sleep in than face you this morning.”
Evan’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the misty horizon. “Or he’s hoping to make a grand entrance,” he replied, his voice clipped. He wasn’t in the mood for Cedric’s jokes, though he knew they were meant to ease the tension simmering between them.
Cedric arched a brow, his smirk deepening. “Or,” he countered, “he’s cowering in his townhouse, trying to come up with an excuse that doesn’t make him sound like a complete coward. ‘I regret I cannot attend our duel this morning, Colburn, as I have a pressing appointment with my tailor’.”
Evan huffed a laugh despite himself, the sound brief and humorless. “If only it were that simple.”
The air around them was thick with anticipation, the kind that settled heavily in one’s chest and made it hard to breathe. The field was eerily quiet, save for the distant calls of birds just beginning to stir. Evan’s fingers tightened inside his pockets as he cast another glance at the horizon, growing unease warring with a faint hope that this might still be resolved quickly.
Cedric, ever perceptive, tilted his head toward his friend. “I’m keeping a sharp eye on the time,” he said lightly. "Let the man make a fool of himself by not showing up, and you’ll walk away with your honor intact.”
Evan didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the mist, his thoughts a tangle of pride, anger, and the faintest flicker of doubt. “It is not just about honor,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “He insulted Minerva, treated her like... like a prize mare he’d just bought. I cannot let that go.”
Cedric’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet understanding. “You care for her,” he said, the statement more a confirmation than a question.
Evan glanced at his friend, his expression guarded. “More than I should,” he admitted. “And more than I know how to handle.”
Before Cedric could reply, the sound of hoofbeats broke the stillness. Evan’s head snapped up, his body tensing as the mist parted to reveal an approaching carriage. The horses’ hooves struck the ground with a rhythmic cadence, their breath misting in the cold air.
Cedric straightened, his easy demeanor giving way to wary curiosity. “That’s not Lord Gillies,” he said, his tone sharp.
Evan’s heart sank as he recognized the figure stepping out of the carriage. Minerva. She was followed by Chastity and, to his dismay, their father, Lord Bellington. The older man’s stern expression was enough to send a bolt of unease through Evan’s chest.
“Bloody hell,” Cedric muttered under his breath, folding his arms as he watched the scene unfold. “Now it is a family affair.”
Minerva’s skirts swished as she approached, her breath visible in the frigid air. Her face was set in a mixture of determination and exasperation, her eyes blazing with a fire that Evan recognized all too well. She marched straight toward him, ignoring the propriety of their surroundings and the whispers of the coachman who had remained with the carriage.
“Minerva,” Evan began, his voice tight with a mixture of surprise and concern. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” she shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut through the morning chill. “What areyoudoing here, Evan? Preparing to throw your life away over a meaningless duel with a man who isn’t even worthy of your time?”
Evan opened his mouth to respond, but Chastity interrupted, her voice trembling with frustration. “Minerva, please. This isn’t helping.”
Lord Bellington stepped forward, his presence commanding despite his weary frame. His sharp gaze swept over Evan, pinning him in place. “Your Grace,” he said, his voice low and measured, “this ends now. There will be no duel.”
Evan stiffened, his pride flaring in response to the man’s tone. “With respect, my lord, this matter does not concern you.”
Lord Bellington’s eyes narrowed. “It concerns me when my daughter’s reputation and future are at stake. I will not have this family dragged into the mud because of your impulsiveness.”
“Your Grace,” he said, addressing Evan directly, “Lord Gillies will not be joining you today.”
Evan blinked, his confusion evident. “He won’t?”
“No,” Lord Bellington replied, his voice heavy with suggestion. “He is otherwise engaged in... matters of his own making.”
A faint blush crept up Chastity’s cheeks, and Minerva’s eyes narrowed slightly. Evan’s mind worked furiously, piecing together the implications. Lord Gillies’s absence wasn’t voluntary; he had been... handled. And the fact that Minerva’s father had taken the time to arrive himself was telling.
Cedric, ever irreverent, leaned toward Evan. “Looks like your duel just got canceled by higher powers,” he murmured with a smirk.
Lord Bellington ignored Cedric, turning to Minerva. “I trust you and His Grace have much to discuss,” he said. “You will have some privacy, but I will remain nearby to ensure propriety.”
Minerva’s lips parted in protest, but whatever objection she had died on her tongue. She turned back to Evan, her gaze still fierce but tinged with something else—uncertainty.
“Shall we walk, Minerva?” Evan asked softly, gesturing toward the edge of the field where the trees began to thin into a path.
Minerva hesitated, her eyes flickering between her father and Evan. Finally, she gave a curt nod. “Very well.”
