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The marquess slowly lowered his right arm. He could feel the tension lock along his shoulder; the strain of keeping his arm raised was too much. He noticed Jasper doing the same, a silent acknowledgement there would be no duel this morning.

After shrugging into his waistcoat and coat, Jasper joined his twin at Meredith’s side.

The men stood close together, their bodies shielding her from the questioning eyes of the crowd.

Unfortunately they could do nothing to modulate the volume of her voice.

Her words rang out loud and clear for all to hear.

“I told you repeatedly that the marquess offered me no insult, but you would not listen. If you felt it necessary to defend my honor, could you not have settled upon a less lethal manner?” Lady Meredith asked.

“You boast constantly of your sparring skills, honed to near perfection at Jackson’s boxing salon.

Would not landing a blow to the marquess’s jaw or nose have appeased your inflated sense of honor? ”

“What? Are you suggesting I should have planted a facer on him in the middle of White’s?”

“That is certainly preferable to a bullet through the heart.” Meredith hmmphed. “Of course, little damage would have been sustained if the shot struck you in the head. There is naught between your ears but a lot of empty space, Jasper.”

Trevor smiled inwardly. Though he suspected he might make this volatile situation even worse, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “Perhaps this discussion would best be continued in private,” he suggested, coming forward until he was standing almost toe to toe with Lady Meredith.

Meredith jerked her head around and gave him a glare that could wilt a hothouse rose on a winter’s day. “Your opinion is not required, my lord. This is a family matter. It is most inappropriate for you to interfere.”

“You are hardly one to be speaking of propriety,” Trevor said. “It might amaze you to know this, Lady Meredith, but there do exist women who know their proper place in the world. Women who know how to be submissive and obedient.”

“I shall say a prayer for these unfortunate souls in church next Sunday,” she retorted, before turning her back on him in an obviously dismissive gesture.

“If you will kindly excuse us, I shall escort my brothers home before any other idiotic male ideas for preserving our family honor are presented.”

“ ’Tis not completely our fault,” Jasper sulked as he trailed languidly behind his sister. “Dardington gave you an opportunity to end this without bloodshed, yet you refused him.”

Meredith stopped walking. A wary look passed through her eyes. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Have you forgotten our conversation yesterday afternoon already, Lady Meredith?” Trevor closed the distance between them and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I am crushed.”

Her head swung around. “He told you?” she asked her brothers. “About yesterday?”

“Yes,” Jasper replied.

She turned completely around and faced the marquess. For an instant her face looked naked and vulnerable, her eyes haunted with doubt and confusion. “Why?”

“They wanted to know what my opinion of you was, so I enlightened them,” Trevor replied. “I saw no harm.”

“You are speaking in riddles, Dardington,” Julian Wingate interjected. He had come, unnoticed, to stand beside them all and apparently eavesdrop on their conversation.

Trevor ignored Wingate. The marquess had not taken his eyes off Meredith.

She stood very still and very straight, her hands clasped against her cloak.

He wished he had some idea of what she was thinking, but her expression gave no indication of her inner emotions.

Trevor wisely kept his mouth shut and waited.

“If you must know, the marquess is referring to the proposal of marriage he made to me yesterday afternoon.” Lady Meredith waved one careless hand. “Not that it is any of your business whom I marry, Mr. Wingate.”

“Devil take it,” Wingate said, scratching the side of his head. “If you are going to marry Dardington, why are your brothers dueling with the man?”

“Why indeed?” Meredith gave an irate sniff and pointed her nose in the air. “It is, I grant you, a most peculiar way to welcome someone into the family. But surely you must have heard that we Barringtons are an eccentric, unconventional lot.”

The twins turned and looked at the marquess with identical expressions of shock and incomprehension on their faces. Trevor imagined his own face contained the exact reaction.

For it appeared Lady Meredith had just announced, in a most forthright manner, that she was going to marry him. Fancy that!

It was a most unusual wedding, considering the stature and rank of the bride and groom. A hastily contrived service, taking place in the bride’s home, with only her brothers and a handful of loyal servants as witnesses. There was no one in attendance on behalf of the groom.

The special license had been obtained by the bride’s brothers, who had a rather busy day by any gentleman’s standards: a near duel in the morning; rushed, secretive wedding preparations until noon; and a private late afternoon nuptial ceremony for their only sister.

As Meredith watched her two brothers share a toast of fine French champagne with her new husband, she told herself she had made the only decision possible.

Marrying the marquess would keep the twins safe from duels defending her honor.

Accomplishing that task alone justified the sacrifice she had made.

She had never known greater fear, nor felt such a depressing sense of helplessness as she had early that morning, witnessing Jasper and the marquess standing so straight and calm, their pistols pointed at each other’s hearts.

The sight was mesmerizing, in a terrifying, helpless way, and she had nearly fainted when she first viewed it.

To think her careless actions had brought the twins to such desperate measures was a somber, heart-stopping realization. She knew in that moment she would have to concede, would have to marry the marquess to save them all from the possibility of grief.

Meredith looked down at the nosegay of violets in her hand.

The simple bouquet had been a gift from the marquess, presented with casual sincerity just before the wedding ceremony began.

The romantic gesture had pleased her greatly, and she had felt the faint warmth of a blush creep on the back of her neck when she accepted the flowers and then stammered a quiet word of thanks.

“Come join us for some champagne, Merry,” Jasper called out gaily. “Dardington had a case of the stuff sent over, and we’ve only polished off one bottle.”

“Yes, join us,” Jason insisted. “If we cannot put a respectable dent in the case we shall we forced to bathe in it. Just like Brummel.”

“You’ve got that wrong,” Trevor interjected. “Brummel does not bathe in champagne, but ’tis said he has his boots cleaned in it.”

“Really?” Meredith smiled and moved forward. “That seems like a ridiculous waste of good wine.”

“Indeed.” Trevor filled a crystal flute and placed it in her hand.

All four clinked their goblets together, then exchanged a hearty laugh.

Meredith took a large sip of her wine and felt a surge of optimism.

Even though there had been long stretches of silence before and after the ceremony, the prevailing feeling had been one of ease.

There was some tension. How could there not be, given the circumstances of the wedding? Yet there were no barbed undercurrents. This unexpected and most welcome sense of serenity gave Meredith reason to hope.

Yes, she had undertaken this marriage partially for the sake of her brothers, to save them from future foolishness.

She had also done this partially for the marquess’s sake.

Though she still doubted her abilities to be the type of wife he might expect, she felt confident she could at least provide some of the essential elements of a comfortable marriage.

Companionship, if he so desired, lively conversation, a warm, welcoming home, perhaps even a child or two someday, if the marquess wished. She remembered the strength of his kisses, the heat of his caress, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of creating that life.

And so that was the last bit of truth. She had married him in part because of her brothers, in part because he needed someone to take care of him, and in part because she knew her feelings for him went beyond mere concern.

Beyond mere attraction. She was in love with him.

Unexpectedly, inexplicably and foolishly in love with him.

Meredith had been deeply afraid to acknowledge that truth to herself because she had been frightened of the implications.

Yet she could not hold back her emotions when it appeared the marquess might not live to see another dawn. If that happened, Meredith conceded it would be nearly impossible to face each day that remained of her life.

And now, if given the chance, she could make him and herself very, very happy.

Meredith took another large gulp of her champagne and nearly laughed out loud at her own sense of arrogant self-importance.

Though a part of her acknowledged it was comical to believe she could control the world when she lacked the power to command her wayward heart, she was nevertheless determined to try.

She was not like other brides, filled with false illusions about a lifetime together that would be filled with only love, happiness, and good fortune. She was prepared to face the challenges of the difficult and uncertain times that lay ahead.

Meredith’s gaze was pulled to her new husband. He had dressed formally in a dark coat, knee breeches, silk stockings and black shoes. The embroidery on his waistcoat was an exquisite creation of wildflowers done in threads of gold and silver. The sight was mesmerizing.