Page 105 of The Duelist for the Ton
“A-a dress can be mended.”
Another tear splashed onto her hand, and she trembled, her chest heaving with each shuddering breath.
He rose and moved toward her. She flinched as he touched her shoulder, then he drew her to him.
“You know how precious you are to me, don’t you?”
Her body vibrated as she sniffed. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and held it in front of her.
“It’s clean.”
She gave a watery smile, took it, and dabbed her eyes.
“Your reputation is intact for now,” he said. “Hewon’t say a word.”
“Why not?”
“Like most arrogant souls, he’s a coward. He hired someone to duel on his behalf.”
She looked up, her eyes widening. “You mean…the infamous Farthing?”
“Aye. A man worse than Sir Heath, making a living by such nefarious means. But he’ll not be seen again.”
“Sweet Lord!” she cried. “D-did you kill him?”
“I shot him, but he was alive when I left. He ought to consider himself fortunate that I spared his life.”
“So you intended only to injure him?”
“No,” he said. “In my anger, I shot to kill.”
“Brother, no! How could you have done such a thing?”
His conscience, which had been hammering that same question into his soul since the moment he’d pulled the trigger, swelled in his mind, whispering of his own sins.
“I can never forgive myself for taking up arms again,” he said. “But I did it to defend your honor. Better that than have youface certain ruination. Perhaps now you understand the gravity of your folly.”
She lowered her gaze.
“But if I cannot forgive myself for having shot a man,” Stephen said, “neither can I forgive him for placing me in that position, where I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” she whispered.
“None that were acceptable to a loving brother.”
“D-do you for—” she began, then her body shook with sobs. He placed his hand under her chin and tilted her head up with his fingertips until she met his gaze.
“Yes,” he said, caressing her cheek. “I’ll forgive my little sister anything.”
“Th-then…” Her color deepened.
“Yes?”
“Can you not forgive Mrs. Stowe?”
He withdrew his hand.
“Please!” she said. “She had no knowledge of what I was doing. I-I climbed over the garden wall while she was taking her rest. You see, she’d had a letter from her son and was suffering one of her headaches, and her hand was giving her pain. She looked so distressed that I suggested she take her rest. Then I…”
