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Page 40 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)

The renewed attack upon Evangeline's character pushed the confrontation beyond any possibility of peaceful resolution.

Yet what struck her most forcefully was not Pembroke's cruelty but the transformation she witnessed in Lucian's bearing—the way he seemed to grow taller and more imposing with each insult, as though his cousin's words were stripping away weeks of self-doubt and hesitation to reveal the formidable man beneath.

"Very well," Lucian said with deadly calm that marked the end of negotiation and the beginning of consequences. "Lord Worthington, please arrange the necessary details with Lord Pembroke's second. I believe satisfaction must be demanded for such comprehensive insults to my family's honour."

His use of the phrase "my family" sent a jolt through Evangeline's chest, suggesting that whatever coldness had marked their recent interactions, he still considered her worthy of his protection and his name.

The knowledge that he would risk his life to defend her reputation, regardless of his personal feelings about their marriage, filled her with emotions too complex to analyze clearly.

"Of course, Your Grace," Worthington agreed grimly, already scanning the assembled gentlemen for someone willing to serve Pembroke in what appeared to be an increasingly one-sided affair. "Lord Ashford, might I prevail upon your services in this matter?"

Charles Ashford stepped forward with obvious reluctance, his handsome features bearing an expression that suggested he found the entire situation distasteful but unavoidable given the conventions that governed such matters.

"I shall serve Lord Pembroke," he said with formal courtesy, though his tone carried none of the enthusiasm that might have been expected from a man supporting a friend's cause. "Though I confess myself hopeful that cooler heads might yet prevail before morning."

"The morning cannot come soon enough," Pembroke declared. "I look forward to demonstrating that the Duke's military reputation was perhaps overstated by those who witnessed his service from a safe distance."

The insult to Lucian's war record represented yet another escalation in Pembroke's campaign of character assassination, calling into question not merely his present competence but his past heroism as well.

Evangeline watched her husband's reaction with growing amazement, noting how each attack seemed to strengthen rather than weaken his resolve.

"Pembroke," Lord Melbourne interjected with the authority that came from being one of the senior peers present, "you appear to be in your cups. Perhaps you might wish to reflect upon your words before they lead to consequences that cannot be undone?"

"My words require no reflection," Pembroke replied with magnificent obstinacy. "I have merely stated truths that others lack the courage to voice publicly."

"Then we shall test the validity of those truths tomorrow morning," Lucian said with finality that ended all possibility of further negotiation.

"Lord Worthington, please coordinate with Lord Ashford regarding the necessary arrangements.

I believe Hampstead Heath provides suitable accommodations for such discussions. "

The formal conclusion of the challenge sent a buzz of conversation through the ballroom as guests absorbed the full implications of what they had witnessed.

Evangeline found herself unable to move or speak, trapped between terror at the prospect of losing her husband and amazement at his willingness to risk everything for her honor.

"Your Grace," Lady Pemberton approached with obvious distress at having her entertainment become the scene of such spectacular controversy, "I cannot express how deeply I regret that such unpleasantness has occurred beneath my roof."

"You need offer no apologies for the actions of others," Evangeline managed to reply, though her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. "Every gathering includes the possibility of encountering those whose conduct falls short of civilized standards."

Yet even as she spoke the proper words, her attention remained fixed upon Lucian as he concluded his arrangements with Worthington and the other gentlemen who had gathered to witness the formal completion of the challenge.

His bearing suggested none of the anxiety she might have expected from a man facing mortal combat in a few hours—instead, he appeared almost relieved, as though the prospect of settling matters through honorable confrontation offered welcome clarity after weeks of legal maneuvering and emotional confusion.

"The arrangements are settled," Worthington informed Lucian as he returned from his consultation with Ashford. "Tomorrow morning at dawn, Hampstead Heath. Pistols at twenty paces, both parties to fire upon the count."

"Understood," Lucian replied with military precision. "I trust all necessary protocols will be observed?"

"To the letter, Your Grace. Mr. Brookes has agreed to attend in his professional capacity, while Mr. Blackwood will serve as official witness."

The mention of medical attendance served as a sobering reminder that tomorrow's confrontation carried the very real possibility of serious injury or death.

Evangeline felt her knees grow weak as the full implications struck her.

She might lose him just as she was beginning to understand how much he truly meant to her.

"I believe this conversation has served its purpose," Lucian said with dismissive finality. "Gentlemen, I shall see you at dawn."

As he turned to leave, his dark eyes met hers across the crowded ballroom for the first time in days.

The look that passed between them lasted only a moment, yet it carried more communication than all their careful politeness had achieved since their estrangement began.

In his gaze she saw determination, resignation, and something that might have been regret—though whether for their quarrel or for the morning's necessity remained unclear.

The carriage ride back to Grosvenor House passed in silence that felt different from the cold distance that had marked their recent interactions.

This quiet carried weight and anticipation, as though both recognized that tomorrow's events would alter everything between them regardless of their outcome.

"You need not have done this," Evangeline said finally as their carriage drew up before the familiar facade of their London residence. "Not for my sake."

"I did it for honour," Lucian replied with careful neutrality that revealed nothing of his deeper motivations. "Some insults cannot be allowed to stand, regardless of personal considerations."

The phrase 'personal considerations' encompassed their entire troubled relationship, acknowledging the distance between them while suggesting that duty transcended private feelings.

Yet Evangeline detected something beneath his formal words.

Exhaustion, perhaps, or the recognition that tomorrow might render their quarrels meaningless.

"Lucian," she began, then stopped, uncertain how to bridge the chasm that his cruelty had carved between them.

"Yes?"

"I hope you know that whatever our differences, I would not wish you to face harm on my account."

His smile in response was sad and brief, transforming his scarred features for just a moment into something approaching the man she had fallen in love with during their library conversations.

"I know," he said quietly. "Sleep well, Evangeline. Tomorrow shall bring what it brings."

As they entered Grosvenor House and retired to their separate chambers, both carried with them the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings that the morning's confrontation might render forever beyond expression.

Yet perhaps, Evangeline thought as she prepared for what might be their final night under the same roof, crisis had a way of clarifying what truly mattered and what was truly worth fighting for.

***

The dawn mist hung heavy over Hampstead Heath when the two carriages arrived within sight of each other, their occupants emerging into the grey morning light with the sort of grim purpose that marked such encounters throughout the long history of gentlemen's honor.

Lucian stepped down from his vehicle accompanied by Lord Worthington and Mr. Brookes, while Pembroke emerged from his conveyance with Lord Ashford and his own medical attendant.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Blackwood announced with formal precision, "the conditions have been agreed upon by both parties. Twenty paces, pistols provided by Lord Worthington, both parties to fire upon my signal. Are there any final words either principal wish to speak before we proceed?"

"Only that Lord Pembroke may still withdraw his accusations with appropriate apologies," Worthington offered with diplomatic courtesy, though his tone suggested he held little hope for such a resolution.

"I withdraw nothing and apologise for nothing," Pembroke declared with continued obstinacy, though his voice carried a tremor that suggested his earlier bravado was beginning to waver. "Let us proceed with this farce and be done with it."

"Very well," Blackwood said with resigned authority. "Gentlemen, please take your positions."

The two men moved to their marks with movements that revealed much about their respective characters.

Lucian walked with controlled precision, his scarred features calm and his manner suggesting that the upcoming confrontation held no particular terrors for someone who had survived the war.

Pembroke moved with nervous energy that spoke of fear imperfectly concealed beneath aristocratic indifference.

"Twenty paces," Blackwood called out as the principals positioned themselves back-to-back. "Begin your count on my mark."