Page 3 of The Duelist for the Ton
“I went in search of a book. As did Lady Manby-Bresswell. Why else would a man enter a library?”
“I can think of plenty of reasons.”
“I imagineyouwould, seeing as you’d not know what to do with a book if someone shoved it up your arse,” Cholmondeley-Walker said. “You’re a fool if you think your wife’s straying, Sir Baldwin.”
“Then why have I seen you sniffing around her? I even caught the Duke of Whitcombe salivating over her at the dinner table.”
Eleanor’s husband? Ifhe’sstrayed, I’ll shoot him myself.
“You really have tripe in that head of yours, Sir Baldwin, if you think Whitcombe would stray. He’s notoriously in love with the duchess. Any look he casts your wife’s way is likely to be motivated by pity rather than desire.”
“What would a man find in a baronet’s wife to pity?” Sir Baldwin asked. “I may be a little out of sorts when another man tries to seduce her—what husband wouldn’t?—but I always make it up to her. This very morning I intend to present her with the most delectable emerald necklace as a gesture of my undying devotion. After I’ve shot you, of course.”
And well deserved the necklace is, too, Sir Baldwin, I’ll warrant, given that your entire fortune is courtesy of her dowry.
“I beg pardon?” Sir Baldwin stared at the Farthing. “Did you have something to say?”
“Nothing save a proposal that you summon your second. I came here to shoot you—not listen to your justification of your treatment of your wife.”
“And what will you do withyourwife, Mr. Farthing, when you return to her bed? Tell her you’ve been out shooting better men than yourself?”
“Sir Baldwin, I’m not so foolish as to have entered into the marriage state,” the Farthing said. “I have no wish to be ruled by another.”
“Hush!” Gerard whispered.
Oh Lord! I’ve done it again.
But the transgression went unnoticed. Cholmondeley-Walker let out a laugh.
“A clever boy you are, Farthing!” he said. “At leastyouunderstand that a married man will need to leave his—how did you describe them?—hisbollocksat the door when he enters his home, lest his wife remove them with her teeth.” He turned to his opponent. “Sir Baldwin, your jealousy is no doubt costing you a fortune in trinkets for your wife—what was it after the last accusation? A diamond brooch, if I recall. But perhaps this morning the price of your jealousy may be somewhat higher—your life is at stake.”
“Not if I shoot first,” Sir Baldwin said. He approached the Farthing, his eyes glittering with loathing.
“I shall enjoy cutting you down. A man should not be earning a living out of the misery of others.”
“I see no misery—only indignation and childish retribution styled as honor.”
Cholmondeley-Walker gestured toward his second. “Bring them over, Corbett.”
“Very good, sir.” A tall, thin man approached, holding a wooden box. He lifted the lid to reveal two weapons nestled together on a bed of smooth velvet.
“First choice to you, Sir Baldwin,” Cholmondeley-Walker said. “I’m disposed to be generous.”
Sir Baldwin plucked a pistol and held it up to the light. “One firearm’s the same as any other,” he said.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the Farthing said, taking the other pistol and inspecting it. It was a Wogdon & Barton piece—in excellent condition, with a polished barrel, carrying the faint odor of gun oil. Whoever the owner was, at least they bothered to tend to them properly. “A man should never underestimate the weapon in his hand—particularly one with a set trigger.”
“Awhat?” Sir Baldwin asked, waving his pistol in the air.
Oh, you fool—do you really think you’ll best me when you have so little respect for the weapon in your hand?
“It matters not,” the Farthing said, approaching the center of the clearing. “Are you ready?”
“Eager to earn your coin?” Sir Baldwin sneered.
“It’s of no consequence, given that I have been paid,” the Farthing replied. “But I am eager to maintain my reputation. Ifyouwish to run off with your shirttails between your legs, it makes no difference to me.”
“Why, you…”
