Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Fifteen

F ollowing at the butler’s heels, Lord Longford paced toward them, not stopping until he towered over her husband. “Are you out of your mind?”

Thomas rose as his sister entered the room. “Good evening, Joanna.” He tossed his napkin onto the table and went forward to kiss her cheek. “Geoffrey, Rochdale.” He nodded to the final gentleman, who must be Mr. Pratt. “I am afraid you have the advantage of me, sir.”

“Mr. John Pratt is your surgeon, Thomas.” Lord Longford looked as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “Mr. Pratt, this is Lord Braeton. You are here at his behest.”

“Your servant, sir.” Thomas bowed, then turned to his sister, a kinder look in his eyes. “I am astonished at the good time you made from London. We did not expect you all until at least tomorrow.” He took Lady Rochdale’s hand. “You must wish to recover from so arduous a journey, my dear. We can wait for you to go change for dinner, or I can have a tray sent up for you.”

Lady Rochdale looked her brother in the eyes and waved the idea of a tray away. “I would not miss this encounter for the world, Thomas.” She turned to Honoria and smiled. “Neither would I be deprived of your wife’s company. You are looking well, Lady Braeton, despite the current uproar.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Shaking off her surprise at their guests’ unexpected appearance, Honoria returned the smile. She had liked Lady Rochdale when she’d met her at their wedding. “Will you change at least?”

Her sister-in-law shook her head. “I refuse to miss a word.”

“James,” Thomas called to the footman standing behind him. “Please have four more place settings fetched immediately. Joanna, will you sit next to Lady Braeton?” He pulled out the chair on Honoria’s opposite side. “I am certain you two will have as much to discuss as the gentlemen.”

“Thank you, brother.” She grinned at Thomas before sitting. “You know my mind well.”

“Gentlemen, please take seats on either side.” Thomas nodded to the footman. “I will remove to the opposite end of the table.”

While the men quickly sat, the footmen set places before them. Once the first course was served to everyone, Thomas began again. “Thank you, Geoffrey, for coming as swiftly as possible.” Thomas frowned as he took his seat. “I would not have believed you could have reached us so swiftly. I dispatched the footman only yesterday afternoon. How do you come to be here in less than a day?”

“Your footman proved an exemplary courier. He said he left here in the late afternoon and changed horses only once on the way. He arrived at my townhouse just after midnight, both he and the horse quite spent. I gave him half a crown for his swift service and suggest you do the same when he returns. Once I read your message, I lost no time in contacting Rochdale.”

“Roused me from a dead sleep at two in the morning.” Lord Rochdale spoke up, then took a deep draft of the wine.

“I collected the good doctor, and we left at daybreak. We’ve been traveling ever since.” Lord Longford took a long sip of his wine as well. “If you were going to challenge Danford, Thomas, you could have had the decency to do so in Town rather than the country. Would have saved us a deucedly uncomfortable journey.”

“I offered Danford the option of going to London, but he agreed the country is better for such things. More privacy, certainly. Thank you, James.”

The servant took away the first course, and two more footmen brought out the soup.

Thomas turned his head to peer at his sister. “I do not recall asking for my sister to accompany you.”

“As though I could stop her once she knew the circumstances,” Geoffrey grumbled. “She was adamant about coming to give your wife comfort during the ordeal.” He sighed. “I could not find an argument against that.”

“If you thought to exclude me from your duel, Thomas, you are sadly mistaken.” Lady Rochdale broke a piece of bread and buttered it enthusiastically. “I may not bear witness to it, but I will be here to support you and to comfort Lady Braeton while you are engaged.”

“Thank you, Joanna.” Thomas looked at her, his eyes showing his great affection for his sister. “I am happy you have come, for my sake as well as my lady’s.”

They all ate silently for a time, Honoria glancing around the table, waiting for God knew what argument to erupt. Lord Longford kept staring at Thomas after every spoonful of soup, his bristling animosity almost palpable. Gentleman that he was, however, he refrained from any further verbal censure of her husband in front of the ladies. Honoria wondered how long such restraint would last. The man obviously took issue with Thomas’s decision to duel. Perhaps his long-time friend could dissuade her husband from going through with the duel where she could not.

At last, conversations started up around the table, subdued to be sure, but a welcome change from the strained silence. Honoria asked Lady Rochdale about her journey and was asked in return how she found the Keep as a residence. Pleasant enough conversation, but everyone seemed on tenterhooks tonight. When at last dessert had been eaten, Honoria rose from her place. “Lady Rochdale, shall we retire to the drawing room?” She gave Thomas a swift smile. He was in for a dressing down from his friend if she wasn’t mistaken. Best leave them to it. “I am certain the gentlemen wish to enjoy some brandy before joining us.”

“With pleasure, my dear.” The lady followed Honoria as she headed out the door. “And do please call me Joanna. I am certain after this visit we shall be the closest of friends.”

As soon as Honoria and Joanna left, Thomas strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a hefty tumbler of brandy. God knew he was likely to need it in the next quarter-hour. “Gentlemen, please help yourselves.”

“About damn time.” Geoffrey snatched up the decanter and splashed the vintage brandy into another glass. He scowled at Thomas, tossed the contents of the glass down his throat, then slammed the cut-glass tumbler down onto the sideboard with a dull thud. “I now repeat, are you out of your mind?”

From the moment his friend had entered the Keep, Thomas had known he was in for a battle. Geoffrey had a great hatred of the practice of dueling and with good reason. His father had been killed in a duel when Geoffrey was fifteen. The shock of his father’s death and becoming Lord Longford so unexpectedly, with all its attendant responsibilities, had given his friend a deep-seated aversion to the code duello .

Naturally, Geoffrey would attempt to talk him out of his meeting with Danford. Still, it never occurred to him to have chosen a different second, for quite simply there was no one he would rather have at his side with such a task at hand. And no one to whom he would rather entrust Honoria’s welfare should he be killed. “Not in the least, my friend.” Thomas sipped more brandy, glad of the familiar burn. “Did you not read my letter in full?”

“Of course, I read it,” Geoffrey growled. “That’s why I’m here, to talk some sense into you.”

“I see.” Thomas twirled his glass, the light bouncing off the varying planes of the vessel throwing hectic sparkles all around the room. “So, you did read the section where I discovered Danford in the garden atop my wife ?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t have cause to challenge him, Thomas. I’m saying you cannot duel to the death. Even if Danford doesn’t deserve to live, you do.” Glaring at Thomas briefly, Geoffrey grabbed the decanter and poured another hefty tot of brandy. “Will you jeopardize your life for the sake of taking your revenge on him?”

“If it was just a matter of revenge or even of honor, I might agree to throw away my shot, but not in this case.” Taking another sip of the brandy, Thomas hoped he could make his friend appreciate the gravity of the situation. “Perhaps when you fall in love and marry, Geoffrey, you will understand the compulsion one has to protect your beloved from all harm. Would you spare the life of a mad dog if it were threatening your loved one? I think not. That is what I am doing now.” Thomas glanced over to Mr. Pratt, who had been silent until now. “What is your opinion, doctor? I know you are bound by an oath to heal everyone within your power, but would you kill in order to protect someone you loved?”

Of smaller statue than the others, but with a face set in determined lines, Mr. Pratt sighed. “I give thanks I have never been put to that test, my lord. However, I have thought about it many times. I have a wife and daughters, so I understand your concern most clearly. If the gentleman in question has already attacked your wife,” the little man shrugged, “well, as you say, a mad dog is a danger one sees coming. To ignore it is foolish in the extreme.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t think you were so blood-thirsty, Pratt.”

“I’m not. Still, one has to be practical when one is a surgeon.” Mr. Prat set his fingertips together. “If there’s a limb so infected it will bring down the whole body, best to sacrifice it to save the rest of the body.”

“Braeton, do you believe, even after accepting your challenge and undergoing a duel, Danford would continue to pursue your wife?” Rochdale had wandered over to the sideboard and poured his own drink.

“His pursuit of her led to our marriage because I believed he would desist in his attempts to debauch her if she had my name and protection.” Thomas sighed. He’d grossly misjudged Danford. “I was obviously wrong. As long as he lives, it seems, she is in danger.” Never had he run across any man so obsessed with dishonoring a woman. Well, this man would be hard-pressed to pursue Honoria from the grave. “Therefore, Geoffrey, should I fall on the field of honor, I must have your word that you will then discharge my office and make certain Danford cannot accost my wife ever again.”

Eyes wide, his friend put his empty glass down. “You would have me challenge him over your death?”

Thomas gripped Geoffrey’s arm. “However you can do it, I beg you do not allow Danford the opportunity to attack Honoria again.”

“Is he such a good shot you need worry about it at all?” Geoffrey’s sobered face gave Thomas hope that the man finally had an inkling of the seriousness of the threat.

“I do not know.” Thomas regretted he’d not had time to correspond with others of his circle who might have shed light on Danford’s prowess with a pistol.

“He’s a fair shot, at best.” Rochdale’s voice brought Thomas and Geoffrey’s head turning toward him. “I’ve seen him at Manton’s shooting gallery several times.” His brother-in-law shrugged. “Unless he’s been practicing a great deal since yesterday, you’re likely to have nothing to worry about.”

Relief swept through Thomas as he clamped Rochdale on the shoulder. “Thank you for that. It does put one’s mind more at ease. And makes me realize I need to hone my skills as well.” He looked from one man to the other. “Would anyone like a little target practice tomorrow morning? I’ll arrange it now. We can assemble on the back lawn with pistols and ammunition and servants to load for us. Some wafers for the targets as well. Geoffrey?”

“I suppose I should keep up my skills, as well, if I’m to be your second.” Geoffrey tried to glare at him, but it missed the mark.

“I’ll take a crack at it, Braeton.” Rochdale sounded eager. Not that that surprised Thomas. His brother-in-law was ever up for sport.

Thomas turned to Mr. Pratt. “Do you shoot, doctor? You are welcome to join us.”

“I believe I will if you don’t mind, my lord.” The little man had a grim look on his face. “You’ve reminded me I need to be prepared, as well. Physicians are not exempt from affairs of honor.”

“Very well, then.” Thomas rang the bell. Best to give orders for the morning now. “I believe we’ve got ourselves a shooting party, gentlemen.”

The candle on the bedside table guttered as Honoria lay in Thomas’s arms, utterly sated and satisfied. He’d come to her chamber shortly after everyone had retired for the night, and she’d welcomed him wholeheartedly. Every second with him was precious now. Not knowing how many they would have gave urgency to all their time together, especially these moments of utmost intimacy. She prayed earnestly that a child might come of their brief joinings, although she’d not know for certain for some months. Perhaps too late for Thomas to know. After all, that had been the fate of his many times great-ancestor and namesake.

Instinctively, she clutched the arms that held her, as if trying to keep him safe.

“I thought you were asleep.”

His breath, warm in her ear, made her squeeze him tighter, then she turned toward him, staring into his warm eyes. “I dozed, I think.” She wrapped her arm over his shoulder. “But I’d rather be awake. With you.”

That lazy smile emerged, going straight to her heart. What if after tomorrow she never saw that charming smile again? Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes, and she dropped her head down, hoping he didn’t see. She might as well have hoped for pigs to fly with their tails forward.

“What is wrong, my love?” He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up.

“Oh, Thomas.” Her cheeks were now flooded with tears. “I don’t want you to die. And I don’t want you to have to live with Lord Danford’s blood on your hands. Please, please stop this duel.”

Although his look was kind, it was also firm. “You know I cannot do that, Honoria. And you also know why.”

“But if you are here, alive, and with me, Lord Danford would not dare touch me again. He’d be mad to do so a second time.” Surely the man had learned his lesson by having to undergo this challenge.

“He was mad to do it the first time, my dear. Do you truly believe he will stop his pursuit of you if I leave him alive?” Thomas stared at her until she must look away. In her heart, she knew he was right. “Besides, do you give your husband’s skill with a gun so little credit? I believe I am the better shot. If you wish, you may come watch the target practice in the morning. Geoffrey and Rochdale will be shooting, as well.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her against his warm chest. “Perhaps it will help allay your fears to see that I am well capable of winning this duel.”

Shaking her head, Honoria burrowed it into him. “No, I don’t think I could stand to watch.” She drew in a hitching sigh and managed to stop her tears. “But I am glad you are well-skilled with the weapon. I will have to trust that and to God’s mercy to see you safely through this ordeal.”

“My love,” he pulled her face up and gazed lovingly into it, “the very last thing I wish to do is leave you. Trust in me. It will be all right.”

Oh, how she wished to believe him. She must believe him, for his sake at least. Seeing her fear might somehow shake his confidence. “I do trust you, Thomas, and I will pray for you to come home to me safe and sound.”

“I can ask for nothing more, sweetheart.” He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him to pillow her head on his chest.

They lay silent for a time, him idly stroking her arm, until finally, he cocked his head, his gaze turned toward the tapestry of Adam and Eve. “Does that ancient tapestry look different to you?”

Suppressing a giggle, Honoria nodded. “I hope it does. I’ve been working on it for the past week or more.”

“You’ve been working on it?” He sat up and then mended the candle so the flame burned brighter. “Why did you do that?”

Honoria sat up as well, pulling the sheet up over her chest. There was no fire this time of year, so the chamber was chilly without Thomas’s warmth. “Because you said it needed mending.” Perhaps she needed to reassure him. “I’ve done needlework for the church since I could hold a needle, so I knew I had the skill, even though the fabric was very delicate with age.”

Thomas grabbed the candle and slid out of bed, giving her a wonderful view of his firm buttocks as he padded to the wall hanging. He held the candle up, appraising her work. “This is excellently done, my dear. I had no idea you were such an exceptional needlewoman.”

“When we first came here, I wanted to show you that I could be a good wife to you, even if we didn’t share a bed.” Honoria smiled when he turned toward her. “I had no idea we would take so little time to become lovers, so I wanted some other way to prove I was worthy to be your countess.”

“You have been worthy since the moment we wed, my love. From that moment, I never doubted your worth.” He strode back to the bed, set the candle on the table, and slid under the sheets next to her. Seizing her lips, he kissed her with all the passion she could have ever desired from a husband.

Swiftly, Thomas climbed atop her and plunged into her, filling her completely. Making them as one.

“I have a great debt to pay, and many people to whom I am indebted. For had Rochdale not dragged me to the Lyon’s Den that day, I would never have found you, my love.” He glided in and out, the exquisite feeling of being filled time and again banishing her fears for the time being.

All she could think about was her husband loving her, bringing her the greatest of pleasures, time and again.

When they lay exhausted, again in each other’s arms, Honoria’s mind drifted back to her earlier concern. Should Thomas not live to see his child—if they had indeed created one just now—perhaps that would also be part of God’s plan, as it had been for his ancient ancestor. She gazed at the man’s face in the tapestry, so like her husband’s, and was strangely comforted. Perhaps, as Thomas had said, everything would, in the end, be all right.