Page 32 of The Duelist for the Ton
“To furnish me with a dowry, and an heir.” Maybury let out a sigh. “If only a man could dispense with his wife once she’s carried out her duty. It would save his ears from the nagging. But you’ll soon learn that yourself, young fellow.”
Despicable man—they’realldespicable!
Anger flared, and Portia curled her hand into a fist. She may have only grazed Maybury’s shoulder, but there was nothing to stop her knocking out a tooth or two.
A calm hand touched her sleeve.
“No, your ladyship,” Nerissa whispered. “It would serve no good.”
“What’s that you say, young man?” Maybury barked.
“My manservant was reminding me of the necessity for haste,” Portia said. “Gerard, you’re right, of course. It’s almost light. And Lord Maybury needs to get his wound seen to.” She gestured to his shoulder.
“Waste of a damned good jacket,” Maybury said. “My valet has no skill at removing bloodstains.”
“Then next time I’ll aim for your head to preserve your jacket.”
“And there’ll be a next time,” Sir Heath said. “Lady Maybury’s shared her favors with almost everyone: De Blanchard, of course, Cholmondeley-Walker, naturally…even Foxton’s been between those thighs, and he’s usually more discerning. He’s always said his cock refuses to perform if the woman has a face like a horse.”
“Hewhat?” Portia cried before she could stop herself.
Sir Heath chuckled. “I didn’t take you for a greenhorn, Mr. Farthing. Have you not been broken in yet?”
Portia opened her mouth to reply, but Nerissa placed a warning hand on her arm.
“It matters not,” Sir Heath continued. I’m sure once you’ve been broken in, you’ll shag with the best of us. And, of course, no man would dare call you out—unless he’s a cheat, like Maybury here.”
“I swear I heard Mr. Bodkins finish the count,” Maybury said.
“And that’s what you’ll tell the company at White’s, but take care, my friend, not to make your point within my earshot,” Sir Heath said. “Or this fellow’s,” he added, gesturing to Portia, “which may prove a challenge, given his anonymity.” He stepped toward Portia, his gaze searching.
There came a time, after every duel, when the client grew a little too eager to discover the Farthing’s identity.
She bowed, bade them good morning, and retreated, Nerissa at her side.
“Heavens, Nerissa! That was the closest one yet.”
“Perhaps you should stop, your ladyship. It’s getting too dangerous.”
“I doubt Sir Heath would reveal my identity when he’s in constant need of my services.”
Nerissa let out a sharp sigh. “I meant the danger to yourlife. Lord Maybury fired before you were ready.”
“You saw what a poor marksman he is,” Portia said. “Gentlemen are such idle creatures—they lack the tenacity to perfect the skill at anything other than gaming and debauchery.”
“Not every man in London displays such idleness.”
“It’s fortunate then, Nerissa, that duels are mostly the province of the idle rich.”
“You were lucky today,” Nerissa said, “and luck always runs out. I sometimes wonder if you’re truly aware of the danger you’re placing yourself in.”
“It’s no more dangerous than surrendering my person in matrimony. At least as the Farthing I amliving, not merely existing.”
“And it’s precisely my wish for you to continue living that compels me to caution you.”
“I cannot surrender my responsibilities, Nerissa. Dr. McIver depends on me—or, at least, the money I provide him.”
“Your brother would, I’m sure—”
