Page 119 of The Duelist for the Ton
Dear Lord—what if she’d been shot?
But shewasshot—and left for dead.
“Haven’t you noticed the number of gentlemen wandering about Town this Season sporting scratches to the ear, or the hand?” Wormleighton said. “Think on it—each and every one of them could have been maimed or killed. But instead of losing their lives, they chose to lose fifty pounds instead.”
He sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair. “I’d say that’s a fair bargain. A man as skilled as the Farthing could easily have sent his opponents to their graves, or employed his skills for more nefarious means. Instead, he chose to ensure that only a little blood was spilled. Don’t you recall what happened to Lord Green last summer? Do you think he lost his leg in a riding accident? Or Mr. Frankland, who lost his life? Granted, they were both unpleasant sorts of fellows, lacking in honor—but no man deserves to suffer or die for the sake of honor.”
Stephen set his glass aside as nausea swelled in the pit of his stomach. “Y-you think the Farthing acted out of honor?”
His companion nodded. “Of course. A lesser man wouldn’t remain anonymous—he’d be unable to resist boasting of his prowess among his acquaintances. He might continue to wear his mask to preserve the dignity of others, but it’d be the worst-kept secret in London. However, nobody—nobody at all—knows the identity of the Farthing.”
Except me.
“Though,” Wormleighton continued, frowning, “I wouldn’t consider it entirely honorable to pocket fifty pounds each time.”
“Perhaps he was in need of funds,” Stephen said quietly. “For his family, perhaps—or others.”
“A masked crusader?” Wormleighton’s eyes shone. “Mayhap he used the funds to help the poor, or the sick. That would make him a hero, would it not?”
A clock chimed in the distance, and Wormleighton set his glass aside.
“Best be off. Can’t keep my Kitty waiting. Come and pay us a visit in the country, Reid—when you can stomach the sight of our marital bliss, that is. No, don’t get up,” he added, as Stephen rose. “Finish the bottle.”
“I’m not thirsty,” Stephen said.
…and I have nothing to celebrate.
The two men exited the club, parting at the front door, and Stephen set off toward home, where a judgmental, angry sister awaited him.
Angela had every right to be angry—but she couldn’t be as angry as he was with himself.
Or as disappointed.
As expected, Stephen’s sister greeted him coolly as he entered the morning room. She then excused herself, leaving him alone with Mrs. Stowe.
“As least she spoke to me this time,” he said. “I thought she’d forgiven me, but ever since…”
“Ever since Lady Portia left London, Angela has blamed you?” Mrs. Stowe suggested.
Did she possess the ability to read his mind?
“Your sister will see reason eventually—she just needs to reconcile what’s happened with her conscience.”
“Have you spoken to her of the folly of her actions?” he asked.
“Your sister’s an astute young woman,” Mrs. Stowe said. “I merely provide the understanding silence that gives her the space to work it out for herself—the blank canvas on which shepaints the portrait of her folly to enable her to understand the consequences of her actions.”
He stared at her, and she smiled.
“It sounds all rather grand, does it not?” she said. “But I fear you’d not appreciate any degree of frankness today.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Stowe, Iinsistyou be frank.”
“In which case, I would say that Angela will need time to reconcile with her conscience the fact that her folly resulted in the brother she loves shooting Lady Portia Hawke.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “How the devil did you know?” He shook his head. “Has Angela been gossiping?”
“Of course not,” she said. “But it’s plain to see if you look closely enough. Just because I’m unnoticeable, doesn’t mean I’m also blind. For what other purpose would you have taken a turn about the park at dawn? And I can think of no other reason why you’d abandon your courtship of Lady Portia. Even the meanest intelligence could discern that you…” She made a dismissive gesture. “It matters not. I ought to see to your sister.”
