Page 48 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

“The latter,” Valance admitted. “A gentleman can’t run away from a duel once the challenge has been accepted.

It isn’t at all the thing.” The same code of honor that had forced him to marry Miss Grantly after having compromised her now forced him to face Belmont.

“But I will try not to kill him. I do not want to be tried for murder.”

Satisfying as it would be to put a bullet through Belmont’s heart, Valance could not risk his life, his title, or his fortune in that way. A peer convicted of murder would lose everything, and so would his heir—assuming he had one.

Though it was too early to tell, Valance rather hoped there would be an heir soon.

Once, that possibility had unsettled him, because he thought it would spell the end of his marriage.

Now that he knew Honora would stay by his side, he looked forward to finding out what the next generation of Valances would be like.

He suspected they would all ask even more difficult-to-answer questions than most children.

“I thought as much.” His wife shook her head, still scowling. “You do not have my approval to fight a duel, but I will not stop you from doing so.”

Valance bit back the urge to laugh at the idea that Honora, who was so much smaller than him, could stop him doing anything. Then he sobered, because a woman as determined and daring as his wife might very well find a way to get what she wanted. Better not to test it!

“I appreciate that. I will return as soon as I can.” He hurried from the room, knowing he had little time to get ready.

Lord Simon picked him up in his carriage, so Valance need not worry about getting himself home after the duel.

If he were injured, he would need help getting to safety.

The surgeon, a former military man who had attended duels in the past, already sat in the carriage.

He and Lord Simon chatted lightly about famous past duels and their outcomes.

Valance ignored both of them in favor of staring somberly out the carriage window.

He had presented a bold front to Honora, but in truth, he worried about what lay ahead.

He trusted his ability to hit a target at twenty paces, but he had no idea how good a shot Belmont was.

He did not want to die from a gunshot wound.

Not now, when his life seemed so very good.

They reached the meeting point before dawn, which meant the three men had to stand around in the field making conversation.

Valance paced back and forth. Lord Simon fidgeted, passing his ornamental cane from one hand to another.

The surgeon, Mr. Badger, kept pulling his watch from his pocket to check the time.

But Valance did not need a watch to see that Belmont was late.

The sun rose above the horizon, painting the whole world in shades of rosy light.

Birds sang their dawn songs. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

The whole world came alive in the glorious way possible only on a clear spring morning. And still Belmont did not arrive.

“I make it half an hour past the meeting time, gentlemen,” Mr. Badger said at last. “You don’t suppose he has run off, do you?”

“Belmont?” Lord Simon shook his head. “He would never be able to hold his head up again if he ran away from a duel. Everyone would cut him.”

“They should have cut him after his first wife died,” Valance snapped.

“She fell down the stairs!” Lord Simon protested. “The coroner found it to be an accidental death. You can’t give a man the cut direct because his wife took a bad fall.”

Valance paused his restless pacing. “Everyone says he pushed her.”

What infuriated Valance was the knowledge that Lord Simon was right. Evading a duel he had already accepted would indeed ruin Belmont’s good name. But since two of his wives died under suspicious circumstances, Belmont ought not have had any reputation left to ruin.

Valance went back to his pacing. Lord Simon and the surgeon continued to make strained small talk as the minutes ticked past. The strain of waiting felt unbearable, and not surprisingly, Valance’s head began to ache from tension.

He pulled out his pain medication, relieved that he had thought to bring it.

The coming fight was going to require all of his attention.

If this suspense continued much longer, he would start screaming at the top of his lungs. Or he would start shooting at random targets—trees and stones and treacherous looking clumps of grass. But he would look a right fool doing that, wouldn’t he?

“Ah,” Mr. Badger said at last, “I believe a carriage approaches.” They watched as a stately town coach drew closer. By now the sun was high enough in the sky to illuminate the Brandwyn arms on the door.

“He didn’t run away after all.” Lord Simon sounded disappointed.

Valance’s heart sank. He had begun to hope bloodshed could be avoided entirely. But when the carriage door opened, only Lord Brandwyn got out, wearing a thick greatcoat and an unhappy expression.

“Something wrong, my lord?” Valance asked. “Is His Grace indisposed?”

That would be an unexpected turn of events. Valance did not particularly want to defer today’s meeting. He had rather get it over with. He was not sure he would have the stomach to come back another morning.

Lord Brandwyn looked down at the tips of his boots. “I am sorry to say His Grace seems to have fled the country.”

This was so unexpected, Valance struggled to hold back a bubble of hysterical laughter. “Indeed? What makes you say that?”

“His Grace left a note at his residence explaining that he had gone to France. His servants say he left yesterday. I am very, very sorry that he behaved so dishonorably, my lords.” Lord Brandwyn positively radiated shame.

“He must have been afraid to face a marksman as good as Val,” Lord Simon guessed. “But my God! He will be absolutely ruined!” A mischievous grin lit up his face. “I can’t wait to drop this bit of gossip at White’s. It will be all over London by the end of the day.”

“Yes, I am afraid it will.” Lord Brandwyn was the only one who showed any sign of regret.

“I suppose my services are not needed after all,” Mr. Badger said cheerfully. “But what a story I will have to tell at the hospital!” He rubbed his hands together happily.

“No,” Valance said slowly, “I must ask you not to say anything. You too, Lord Simon. Not a word to anyone. We will tell everyone that we reconciled our differences and the duel was canceled.”

Lord Simon gaped at him. “But why? This may finally destroy Belmont.”

“Yes,” Valance agreed. “And think what Belmont might do to avoid ruin.”

With that threat hanging over his head, Belmont might be willing to sell Valance the mortgage to Grantly Manor.

He might finally leave Honora and Dora alone.

This, combined with what Valance had learned from Mademoiselle DeRose, would provide the leverage he needed to solve the Belmont problem.

Valance’s lips curled up in a wicked smile.

“If you gentlemen will keep this morning’s events a secret, I believe I can use that secret to very good effect.” He looked each of them in the face.

“No one will hear this story from my lips, I assure you.” Lord Brandwyn spoke stiffly. No doubt he was still embarrassed by the cowardice of his principal.

“Nor mine,” Mr. Badger said cheerfully. “We medical men know how to keep a secret.” Valance nodded, then turned towards Lord Simon, the witness who undoubtedly had the loosest lips.

“As you wish.” Lord Simon’s hangdog face made his reluctance obvious. “But you are robbing me of a story that would have paid for my drinks for days!”

Valance snorted. “Get a job, Simon. Then you need not sponge off your friends.” Lord Simon was supposed to be reading law, but he rarely dined at the Inns of Court, nor had he taken much time to cultivate his legal connections. It seemed unlikely he would ever be called to the Bar.

“Very good advice, my lord,” Mr. Badger said dryly. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I should like to get back to my surgery. I do have patients to see.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Lord Simon said. “Shall we head back, Val?”

Valance nodded. Now that his anxiety over the duel had passed, his stomach insisted it was time for breakfast.

Valance used the ride home to plan how he would handle the Belmont situation.

Yes, he believed this would work very well.

Much better, in fact, than fighting an actual duel.

Belmont might have been too scared to meet him, but he would probably do much to keep his name from being further befouled.

Valance could collect statements from the three witnesses and keep them safely locked up.

Even if Belmont returned to England, he would not dare touch Valance’s family again.

Honora would be safe at last, and Valance could buy that damn mortgage and gift it to the young Sir Jacob Grantly.

“I say, Val, is that a dog sitting by your door?” Lord Simon asked.

Valance, who had been lost in pleasant thoughts, looked up in surprise. Sure enough, a scruffy gold-and-black morsel shivered on the doorstep.

He beamed. “Yes. In fact, it is the worst dog in the whole world.” He thanked Lord Simon, got out of the carriage, and scooped up Bishop Barkley. “You, sir, are filthy,” he told the dog. “Were you rolling in mud?”

Bishop Barkley wagged his tail and licked Valance’s hand.

“I think we had better give you a bath before we let you into the morning room.” Valance whistled as he walked into the house. He couldn’t wait to tell Honora that their dog had returned.