A Lady’s Propitious Match: A Historical Regency Romance Novel (Regency Marriages of Convenience Book

CHAPTER 24

Christopher awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the echoes of the nightmare still reverberating in his mind. The moon cast a ghostly glow through the window, and he found himself tangled in the suffocating remnants of a dream that refused to release its grip.

In the twisted landscape of his nightmare, he was back at the disastrous soiree, surrounded by a sea of accusing eyes. The weight of judgment pressed upon him, suffocating in its intensity. Clara’s tearful gaze haunted him, and the shame of the scandal enveloped him like a shroud. The nightmare replayed relentlessly, a cruel loop that offered no respite.

As reality gradually asserted itself in the darkness, Christopher could not shake the lingering unease that clung to him. Today marked a pivotal moment, a confrontation born from a maelstrom of emotions that occurred simply because he was talking with Clara at the Spring Soiree. He was to meet Lord Reginald Belmont on the field of honor for a duel, the older man having furiously challenged Christopher over compromising his daughter.

Dressing in somber hues, Christopher could not escape the weight of the choices that had led him to this precipice. Everything had unraveled so quickly. His plan had fallen apart because he had allowed himself to fall in love with the woman he was supposed to be creating a ruse with.

He still could not believe how far this had taken him. He had proposed to Clara, invited her to run away to Gretna Green with him so they could wed and start a new life.

Perhaps that was what they should have done. If only they had acted quicker. They would already be on their way to being together forever, and no duel would have been necessary.

But this was the situation that they found themselves in, and Christopher was going to have to face the consequences of her actions no matter what.

As the predawn cast its muted light over the world, Christopher stood alone in the quiet solitude of his thoughts. The weight of the upcoming duel and the consequences of his actions pressed upon him, but his mind was tethered to a more profound realization. The awakening of his spirit through the tumultuous connection with Clara.

He gazed out of the window, acknowledging to himself the ruin he had brought upon Clara’s matrimonial chances by daring to love her beyond the rigid confines of social constraints, regardless of what happened today. The storm of societal expectations had raged, leaving in its wake a shattered path through which their love had recklessly ventured.

He never wanted to hurt her. He always wanted the best for Clara, which made this even more heart breaking. Life from today was never going to be the same.

Regret lingered on the periphery of his thoughts, but it never fully took hold. Christopher still could not bring himself to lament the pursuit of a love that defied societal norms. Clara had become the flame that ignited his spirit, a force that liberated him from the constraints that had bound him for so long.

Despite the impending duel and the possibility of losing everything—his reputation, his standing, and perhaps even Clara, Christopher found a quiet resolve within himself. The love they shared had given him a taste of true authenticity, a glimpse of a life shaped by personal choices rather than societal expectations.

The early light of dawn cast a somber pallor over the landscape as Christopher stepped outside his home, greeted by the grim countenance of Elliot. A silent exchange of glances conveyed the tacit acknowledgment that their carefully laid plan had gone awry. The weight of the impending duel hung heavy in the air as they set out on the journey together.

Elliott, a steadfast companion, walked beside Christopher as they made their way through the quiet streets. The morning mist clung to the world, a reflection of the uncertainty that shrouded their path. The echo of their footsteps seemed to reverberate with the unspoken tension between them.

Arriving at the misty dawn rendezvous, Christopher surveyed the scene. Lord Reginald Belmont stood across the grass, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by an unexpected ashen complexion. The air crackled with an eerie stillness as the officiator solemnly began to read out the rules of engagement.

“Gentlemen,” his voice resonated in the hushed stillness, “we gather here under the cold light of dawn to address a matter of honour and consequence. As per the ancient traditions that govern such affairs, let the rules be heard and understood.”

His gaze shifted between Christopher and Reginald, the weight of his words underscoring the gravity of the situation. Nerves started to zig zag through Christopher. This was truly the last thing he wanted to happen, but it was the only way he could obtain his real love.

“Rule one,” the officiator continued, his voice cutting through the quiet, “the duel shall proceed until one party acknowledges defeat or until the agreed upon number of exchanges has taken place. Typically, this is three. I assume you will be following this too.”

The words hung in the air, the tension between the two adversaries palpable. The mist, weaving its tendrils through the landscape, seemed to amplify the weight of each syllable.

“Rule two,” the officiator intoned, “no intentional harm shall befall either party beyond what is deemed necessary for the resolution of this dispute. The aim is not annihilation but a declaration of honour.”

Christopher’s gaze remained fixed on the officiator, a steely resolve in his eyes. Beside him, he could feel Elliott mirroring the gravity of the moment. This would change everything for both families. The outcome of today was the most important thing to both men.

“Rule three,” the officiator continued, “each participant shall abide by the code of conduct, recognizing the consequences that may arise from the decisions made here today. May this duel serve as a testament to the adherence to societal norms or, conversely, the pursuit of individual convictions.”

The air crackled with tension as the officiator concluded the recitation of the rules. Christopher’s gaze remained fixed on Reginald, his adversary in this solemn dance of honor and consequence. Beneath the veneer of fury that marked Reginald’s demeanor, Christopher could not shake the unsettling sense that something was amiss. Although he could not quite put his finger on what was wrong here.

As the countdown to the duel commenced, a tense exchange of glances unfolded. Christopher felt the weight of the misty dawn pressing upon them, the echoes of societal expectations bearing down. In the midst of the palpable silence, Reginald’s fury seemed tempered by an underlying vulnerability, a hint of unwellness that Christopher could not ignore, and it made him start to fear what was to come.

A rush of concern overcame Christopher as he observed the telltale signs — similarities to those he had witnessed years ago when his own father had faced a fatal heart attack all those years ago. The past, hauntingly present, causing the world to stop spinning for a moment.

Reginald’s slightly swaying figure raised too much of an alarm in Christopher’s mind. The fury that had fueled their confrontation took a back seat to a deeper, more primal concern. He could not continue. Not when he feared what was to come.

“Lord Belmont,” Christopher’s voice cut through the tense air, genuine worry lacing his words. “Are you unwell?”

The older man, caught in the throes of internal conflict, offered no immediate response. Christopher took a step forward, an instinctive urge to offer aid in the face of an impending crisis. And then, as if the weight of the moment became too much for Reginald to bear, he abruptly clutched at his chest.

And then he fell.

He tumbled to the ground in a heap. Nothing like the stoic powerful man that Christopher had always known him to be.

“Oh my! Lord Belmont…”

Without a second thought, Christopher raced across the misty field to where Reginald had crumpled, his fury replaced by a surge of concern. Elliott, swift and decisive, joined him at Lord Belmont’s side.

The once formidable Earl lay pallid, his labored breathing a stark contrast to the tension that had marked their confrontation moments ago. The weight of societal expectations and the impending duel now seemed trivial in the face of this sudden medical crisis.

Elliott, ever pragmatic, assessed the situation with a keen eye. “Christopher, this seems more than a consequence of the duel. The Earl is in the midst of a serious medical crisis.”

Christopher nodded, the urgency of the situation propelling them into swift action. Reginald’s pallor spoke volumes, and the gravity of the moment demanded immediate attention.

“Support him,” Christopher instructed, his voice edged with urgency. With Elliott’s help, they cradled Reginald between them. The once formidable adversary now leaned heavily on their combined strength, his breathing shallow and labored. “Let us get him to the carriages.”

The servants, waiting at a distance, moved swiftly to fulfill his command. As the carriages arrived, Christopher and Elliott carefully maneuvered Reginald in to one of them before taking him to his home where they could finally summon a physician to take care of him.

“Do you think he will be alright?” Elliot asked Christopher quietly, but Christopher did not have the strength, or the answer, to give his friend what he wanted.

His father had not made it, but that did not mean everyone would meet the same fate…

Or so he hoped.

The corridors of Reginald’s home felt like a silent echo chamber as Christopher paced anxiously. The misty dawn had given way to the subdued light filtering through the windows, casting shadows on the walls.

The physician arrived with a quiet urgency, and Christopher stood in the hallway, a silent sentinel awaiting news. The closed doors felt like a barrier between him and the answers he sought. Elliott, equally apprehensive, stood beside him as they shared the weight of uncertainty.

Neither of them dared to say a word because they were both so anxious.

Time seemed to stretch as Christopher strained to hear any indication of the examination within. The hushed murmurs and shuffling sounds beyond the door only fueled his anxiety.

At long last, the door creaked open, and the physician emerged, his expression grave. Christopher’s heart skipped a beat as he awaited the verdict that could alter the course of lives forever.

“The Earl has suffered a serious heart attack,” the physician began, his tone measured and somber. Christopher felt the gravity of the words settle over him like a heavy cloak. “Rushing him home before things progressed likely saved his life.”

Relief and disbelief warred within Christopher. The fragility of life, the thin thread that separated the living from the departed, had suddenly become starkly evident. Reginald, the formidable Earl, had faced a perilous precipice, and the choices made in the misty dawn had become a decisive factor in the continuation of his life.

The news of Reginald’s condition struck like a thunder clap, echoing through the grand halls of the estate. Lady Estelle Belmont, overcome by the weight of the revelation, dissolved into hysterical tears. Christopher stood in the midst of the emotional storm, his mind a whirlwind of gratitude and disbelief.

Amidst the commotion, Clara rushed from the room, her usually composed demeanor shattered by the news of her father’s serious condition. Christopher felt the urgent need to be near her, to share in the relief that their swift actions had brought a reprieve from tragedy.

In the hallway, Clara’s eyes, glistening with a mix of emotions, met Christopher’s. Without a word, she threw herself into his arms, and he held her tightly.

“Thank you so much,” she muttered quietly to him. “You have saved my father, even after everything that he has done to you. I will always be grateful to you for that. You have no idea.”