Page 55 of The Duelist for the Ton
“Yes, they’re placed all over the grounds, and the competitors have to find them.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“The gamekeepers will ensure we keep to the path, and they keep score to make sure nobody cheats. Though that’s unlikely, given that Eleanor has better taste in friends than most. Sir Heath, for example, will not be at the party.”
Stephen glanced over to the man in question, who was bowing to Lord Francis, a sneer on his lips.
“Much as I despise that man, I have no wish to see him, or Lord Francis, come to harm,” he said. “I hear Sir Heath employs that Farthing fellow to fight for him.”
“Oh?” she replied, her voice tight.
Stephen shook his head. “If Sir Heath is despicable, that’s nothing compared to the black soul of that particular creature. To make a profit from such an act… I hope one day he hangs.”
She shrank back, the fear in her eyes intensifying. Then he took her hand.
“Forgive me. We’re not here to speak of men who are too rotten to deserve our attention. We’re here to fetch ices, are we not? We mustn’t keep the duchess waiting. She is perhaps one of the few women in Society for whom I have any admiration—save yourself, of course.”
She nodded, but her smile did not resume, and he steered her toward the queue for ices.
What had given rise to such fear in her eyes? And why did it pierce his soul to see her so afraid?
Perhaps if he discovered the cause of her fear, he could shatter it. For he wanted nothing more than to see her safe and happy.
Sweet Lord—he was falling in love.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun hadlong since slid below the line of trees in the park, casting shadows that stretched across the ground until they merged into the darkness.
Three figures stood, silhouetted against the moonlight reflected in the Serpentine—Sir Heath Moss, his second, and the referee. Sir Heath had managed to persuade the Duke of Dunton to act as his second. Portia would have recognized Dunton’s portly frame anywhere, not to mention the stench of sour brandy and unwashed garments that followed him like a thick fog wherever he went. Why Sir Heath saw fit to pay Dunton’s expenses made little sense, apart from Dunton’s title, which rendered him attractive to men such as Sir Heath who sought to collect titled friends.
And other men’s wives.
Nerissa at her side, Portia adjusted her mask then drew her cloak about her. Despite the warmth of the day, a chill had descended since the sunset. Each time she exhaled, her breath formed a mist. It was fortunate that Sir Heath had insisted on the duel taking place at dusk. By dawn, the ground would be covered in frost. And with a frost came footprints, the pattern of which would declare to the whole world that a duel had taken place.
“Will you not come closer while we wait, Mr. Farthing?” Sir Heath said.
“My master’s not here to engage in conversation,” Nerissa said.
“You’re not going to bolt, are you? You’ve my fifty pounds in your pocket.”
“My master’s fifty pounds,” Nerissa said. “According to the terms of the contract—”
“Yes, yes,” Sir Heath said, irritation in his voice. “According to the contract, the client pays whether his opponent shows or not. That damned contract exists foryourbenefit, not mine.”
“Only if you place little value on your life.”
“Well, it seems as ifyourlife is not at risk tonight,” Sir Heath said. “I always said Francis was a coward—in addition to being unable to satisfy his wife.”
“No man is enough for that woman,” Dunton said, his voice slurred. “I’vehad her.”
“That’s nothing to boast about,” Sir Heath said. “I doubt there’s a man in London who’s not had her. Lord Francis had to dismiss his entire body of male staff after catching herin flagrante delictowith three footmen last Christmas. I even hear he’s jealous of the stallions in his stables.”
“Which proves my point that all women are whores,” Dunton said. “Give a woman an ounce of freedom and she’ll spread her legs for anything that moves.” He let out a coarse laugh. “And several things that don’t,” he added. “I suspect she’s a patron of Madame DilDoul’s establishment. Not that I object, of course. Madame has the most delectable items for her more discerning customers—carved out of ivory, don’t you know! I myself have used—”
The referee cleared his throat, and Dunton let out a laugh.
“Squeamish, are you, Johnson?”
