Page 47 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

Valance had joined White’s as soon as he came down from Oxford, because his father and grandfather had both belonged to it.

But it did not take him very long to discover that the gentlemen he was most interested in knowing preferred the Cambion Club, which employed a better set of cooks and boasted just as excellent a cellar.

The only advantage White’s had over the Cambion Club was that it allowed gambling.

As Valance did not particularly care for gambling, this did not bother him, and he became the first Valance to join the Cambion Club.

But Valance had never dropped his membership at White’s.

Today he felt grateful for that, because the Duke of Belmont, not being a magician or scholar, was not a member of the Cambion Club.

He patronized White’s instead, and often dined there with his cronies.

Valance guessed that on a sunny afternoon, the duke would most likely be found at his club.

He was right. He found Belmont chatting in the bow window with Lord Alvanley, the reigning gentleman of the club since Brummel’s flight to France.

Though the duke must have been a couple of decades Alvanley’s senior and had never been part of the dandy set, the two seemed to be on comfortable terms. The men fell silent when Valance came to stand in front of the coveted bow window table.

“Lord Alvanley, good day,” Valance said politely. He had no quarrel with the Prince Regent’s friend.

He shifted his gaze to Belmont. He felt a savage surge of pleasure at the sight of the bruises on the duke’s mouth and chin. Honora had caused that damage, and he was proud of her for defending herself.

“Your Grace.” He did not bow or offer the duke even an inclination of the head, despite Belmont’s high rank.

Belmont surveyed Valance through a silver quizzing glass. “Lord Valance, what an unexpected visitor! I did not know you patronized White’s.”

“I have been a member in good standing for nearly four years, though I must say I prefer the company at the Cambion Club. Your apologies, Alvanley.” Valance inclined his head to the baron.

“Yes, you probably would.” In Belmont’s dry, sarcastic voice, that sounded like an insult. Valance ignored it entirely.

“I wish to have words with you, Your Grace. Will you step into another room with me?” He thought he saw a flicker of unease cross Belmont’s face. But it was gone in a moment, and he might have imagined it.

“I can imagine no business you might have with me that cannot be conducted in public, Lord Valance.”

“Very well.” Valance drew himself to his full height and took a deep breath. “In that case, I would remind you that when you were so gracious as to call on me in January, I warned you that if you harmed anything or anyone in my household, I would shoot you where you stood. Do you remember?”

This time, Belmont clearly flinched. “I remember. What of it?”

Valance pitched his voice so that it would be heard throughout the room. “Last night, at Sherborne Place, you insulted my wife. She bears a bruise on her arm from your mistreatment. I demand satisfaction.”

A silence fell over the room. Gentlemen turned to stare. A muscle in Belmont’s face twitched. Valance smiled. Yes, he had rattled Belmont. Good.

“You are calling me out?” Belmont’s gaze raked up and down Valance’s substantial figure. Then he arched a single, incredulous eyebrow.

“Yes, I am.” Valance spoke with feigned cheerfulness, again ignoring the implied insult. “Will you meet me?”

Belmont scanned the room, possibly trying to gauge how much support he had.

He had the advantages of age, wealth, and rank.

There were few men in London more wealthy or more powerful.

But there were also few men in London who had fomented as many nasty rumors as Belmont.

Valance had a better reputation—his only scandal was his elopement with the former Miss Grantly.

Belmont rubbed his chin thoughtfully before coming to a decision. “I will meet you, Lord Valance. I suppose you are no swordsman?” He punctuated the question with a sneer.

“On my honor, I do not know how to fence,” Valance agreed.

“Pistols it is, then,” Belmont granted.

As the challenged party, it was Belmont’s right to choose the weapon.

Choosing swords would have been to his advantage, but the rules of dueling etiquette forbade him from crossing swords with a man who did not fence.

In much the same way, Valance would have been forbidden from choosing magic in a duel with a gentleman who was no magician.

The duke glanced across the room. “Lord Brandwyn? Will you serve as my second?”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Lord Brandwyn replied.

Valance did not need to glance around the room to know whom to name as his second. Though he was not on close terms with most of the men in attendance, he had spotted Lord Simon Varlow in the room when he first walked in. They had been friends in their university days.

“Lord Simon,” he called. “Will you be my second?”

“At your service, Val,” Lord Simon replied. “Brandwyn, shall we retire to work out the details?”

The two seconds would make the arrangements for the duel, so Valance’s business here was finished. “Good day to you, gentlemen.” He nodded to Alvanley again and took his leave. A buzz of gossip rose from the room even before the door closed behind him.

Valance felt surprisingly cheerful on the walk home.

He could trust Lord Simon to work out the details.

All he had to do now was keep the secret from Honora.

He did not want to worry her unnecessarily.

He thought it very likely that if she knew what he intended, she would demand he cancel the duel.

But he could not do that now that the duke had accepted the challenge.

Better that she not know anything at all about it.

So, Valance said nothing about the duel that night, or the next day, or the next.

The two seconds made the expected attempt to seek a reconciliation, but no reconciliation was possible as long as the duke denied having confronted Honora at Markham’s ball.

Belmont continued to insist he had spent the evening with friends.

The seconds therefore negotiated a meeting at dawn on Friday morning at Wimbledon Common.

Lord Simon arranged for a surgeon to attend in case of injuries.

The day before the duel, Valance visited his lawyer to make sure his affairs were in complete order. That night, he took Honora to bed early and kept her awake for a considerable amount of time. Fortunately, she had not the slightest objection.

So far as Valance could tell, his wife suspected nothing, and he preferred to keep it that way. He intended to leave the house while she still slept, but this plan went awry. She heard him opening the door separating her bedroom from his.

“Valance?” she called sleepily. “Where are you going?”

“Just an early morning errand.” He spoke as lightly as he could. “I should be home shortly after breakfast.” Or maybe even before breakfast, if all went well.

She sat up in bed and yawned. “I hope you are not doing something foolish.”

“No,” he said gently. “Not foolish. Something necessary. You need not worry about it. Go back to sleep, darling.”

She did not seem to be fooled. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. “You had better come back to me in one piece, because I love you.”

That brought Valance back to her side, though he ought to be dressing. Lord Simon would arrive for him soon. “I will come back safe and sound,” he said, though he knew perfectly well it was a promise he might not be able to keep. “Because I love you, too.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips. It was the first time either of them had spoken those three words aloud.

But Valance no longer had the slightest doubt.

Some things in life were irrefutably true.

Silver tarnished over time, gold remained uncorrupted forever, and Oliver Valance loved his wife more than anything else in the world. Facts!

Which was why he had to take care of the Duke of Belmont, so he would never bother Honora again. He turned to walk away, but Honora’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Valance,” she said, in a steely tone, “I know what you are going to do.”

“Er, you do?” He faced her again, puzzled. How could she have known? She might be intelligent, but even she couldn’t have guessed this. Could she?

“Yes. I heard it from Lord Markham. He heard the gossip at the club. He called yesterday and told me you had challenged the Duke of Belmont to a duel.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “Because of me.”

Valance’s jaw dropped. “Markham told you?” He could not believe such a good friend would reveal his secret.

She nodded grimly. “He said I deserved to know that you were risking your life for my sake.”

“Damn him,” Valance grumbled. “He ought to know better than to meddle!”

Honora shrugged. “He also said you once asked him for advice about matrimony, and his advice was that a husband ought not keep secrets from his wife. I am supposed to pass that message on to you.” She frowned. “He seemed to speak from personal experience, but I didn’t like to ask.”

Valance snorted. It was unlike Honora to show so much restraint when it came to asking personal questions. “Wise of you.” If Markham and his wife had had any misunderstandings in their first year of marriage, Markham had not said a word about it.

“Very well,” Valance told his wife. “It is true. I am going to duel Belmont, I am going to win, and I will come home to you. I promise.”

She scowled at him. “You had better come home alive. Or I will make sure you do not sleep peacefully in your grave.”

That drew a reluctant grin from him. “You aren’t going to forbid me to go?”

She returned his question with one of her own. “Would you listen to me if I did? Or would you insist that you were honor-bound to meet Belmont?”