Page 132 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Oh,really? She deserves better than the brother who has her best interests at heart, who is devoting his life to ensuring that she’s never placed in danger again?” Foxton let out a sour bark of laughter. “I suppose you thinkyoudeserve her? Reid, you never came close.”
“In that, if nothing else, I agree with you,” Stephen said, tempering the urge to obliterate the arrogant expression on Foxton’s face. “At least permit me to see her, speak to her.”
“She’s not at home.”
“You lie,” Stephen said. “If you’re as protective as you say, you’d be by her side at all times.”
“I’m not in Town for long,” Foxton said. “Not that it’s your concern. I return to Forthridge this evening.”
“Then permit me to—”
“You’re not welcome,” Foxton said. “Step onto my estate and you’ll regret it. My gamekeeper has orders to shoot you on sight.”
Stephen flinched and dug his fingernails into his palms, focusing on the sharp stab of pain to drive away the memory of gunfire. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I? You and your wretched family have cost me more than you deserve. I—” Foxton broke off, then shook his head. “Just go, before I do something I regret.”
“What do you mean, myfamilyhas cost you?”
Foxton made a dismissive gesture. “I’m referring to my sister’s virtue. You ruined her.”
“I love her!” Stephen cried.
“You took her virtue, then shot her and left her for dead,” Foxton said. “Are those the actions of a man in love?”
“How many times must I tell you, I didn’t know it was—”
“I care not!” Foxton roared, advancing on Stephen, his powerful frame filling the room. “If it were up to me, I’d haveyour throat slit in the night while you sleep, preferably while that damned sister of yours watches. Had she kept her legs closed, none of—”
“My sister did nothing!” Stephen said. “She was seduced by a rogue, a man who deserves to be cut down.”
“As my sister was similarly seduced—and the man who ruinedherdeserves to be cut down,” Foxton said quietly. Rage still simmered in his eyes, but the cold, measured calm in his tone sent a shiver of fear through Stephen’s heart.
Foxton was a man without a heart—and such a man was a dangerous enemy, for he would carry out his threats unhampered by conscience or remorse.
Nevertheless, the question that had been burning in Stephen’s mind needed to be asked, even if it cost him his life.
“Did she have a child?” he said.
For a moment, Foxton’s composure seemed to falter. His lips thinned, then he tilted his head to one side and smoothed his expression, the momentary flash of fury disappearing.
It was enough to confirm Stephen’s fears.
A child…
My child.
“Sweet Lord Almighty,” he whispered as the world shifted out of focus. The walls of the tiny parlor seemed to pulse and throb, moving in and out, pressing on his chest until he fought for breath.
“The Almighty has nothing to do with it,” Foxton said. “I’mmy sister’s only salvation now, and I’ll do everything in my power to protect her, like any man would a fragile female, from the dogs that come sniffing around her.”
The anger swelling in Stephen’s heart shattered and burst forth.
“You fucking bastard!” He lunged forward, and pain exploded in his hand as his fist connected with Foxton’s face.
The bigger man teetered backward, his eyes widening in surprise, then crashed to the floor.
“What about the child?” Stephen cried.
