Chapter Sixteen #2
Howard came at him with no grace and little strategy, his attempt to thrust under Darcy’s wrist easily parried.
The man retreated, and Darcy had ample time to analyze each vulnerable area.
His opponent must have understood what Darcy was doing, for he launched into a series of advances so quick that Darcy retreated, parried, retreated, parried, and at last found himself with no additional room to step back.
He lifted his foil to block a high strike, then, anticipating a finishing thrust, stepped nimbly to one side.
There no longer being a body before him to stop the momentum, Howard flew past Darcy, the tip of his foil touching only the wall.
The weapon’s blade bent as Howard’s forward motion sent him to one knee.
He straightened and whirled to face his opponent, but the foil was not raised quickly enough.
From his superior height, Darcy reached out to tap Howard’s chest with the tip of his foil.
“A hit!” Fitz cried.
Howard began to rise. As he straightened, he jabbed his foot out straight before him.
Darcy felt the impact of Howard’s heel against the kneecap of his planted leg, and then a fiery pain exploding as the leg snapped back. He released his foil and dropped to the ground, instinctively wrapping his hands around his knee and drawing it to his chest.
“If you cannot finish the match,” Howard said with a smirk, “you have forfeited.”
“Those are the rules,” Fawkner insisted, stepping to Howard’s side.
“Those are not the rules, you ivory-tuners,“ Fitz growled. “You are not allowed to kick at your opponent like an unruly child. You must instead face Darcy’s second.” He shoved Howard back amidst a growing cacophony of hoots and hisses. “That would be me.”
The pain in Darcy’s knee subsided but did not vanish. He sat slowly. As he glanced around the room, he realized that Howard had already been defeated. The man had been rather isolated at the club, but now he had even lost those who had been sympathetic.
“Fitz,” Darcy said, a sort of eerie calm suffusing him. “Leave him to me.”
His cousin turned. “Are you able to continue?”
“Of course,” Darcy replied. “Howard’s kick is only a little better than his foil.”
Fitz held out a hand to haul Darcy to his feet. Darcy tested his leg. It pained him, but it was sound. Fitz’s eyes bored into his, and Darcy offered his cousin the faintest of nods.
“I will continue,” Darcy said solemnly. He turned to stare at Howard. “And I will win, even with only one good leg.” There was a rolling murmur of approval from the spectators.
“Hit for Darcy,” shouted Fitz with a smug, satisfied air.
Fawkner glanced around the room. He did not look at Howard this time before he nodded.
Howard had damaged his blade in the fall. He returned to the far end of the room to exchange it as Darcy limped back to his position. Howard returned and held up his blade but did not leave it there for long, settling quickly back into the match.
Darcy parried another thrust, and for a moment he and Howard were stationary, pressed up close together, their blades crossed. Darcy’s eyes watched Howard’s foil as it was retracted and saw the sharp tip.
Howard was not using a practice blade.
Darcy’s temper finally flared beyond control.
No one had noted the exchange, and he berated himself for not checking the weapon when Howard first brought it onto the floor.
He advanced steadily in a straight line, thrust and parry, thrust and parry, until Howard could retreat no farther.
The man burst forward, delivering a thrust in tierce, but it was a desperate attempt to regain a foothold.
Darcy parried with the edge of his foil, forced Howard’s wrist upward, and seized the hilt of Howard’s foil, twisting it away.
“Disarm!” someone shouted.
Darcy leaned in close to speak in Howard’s ear.
“You would approach my wife, frighten her half to death, on our wedding day?
I was there—but you approached her.“ The raucous crowd had gone silent, and his words rang clear around the room. “Now you bring an unbated blade to cut me down?” He lifted Howard’s foil and tossed his own aside.
Darcy lifted the foil, the pain in his knee forgotten. “It might have done you some good had you known what to do with it.” He stepped forward, weapon before him, as Howard shrank back.
“You should have married my sister instead of that country chit,” Howard snarled as he retreated. He stopped near the wall and tossed his arms out. “Kill me if you will. At least I know you will hang for it.”
Darcy held the sharp tip of Howard’s weapon above his heart and let it linger there.
“It is your own foil, Howard. Most men would call this self-defense.” He toyed with the blade, eyeing the precise location where it might enter Howard’s heart and end this game once and for all.
For a long, long moment, Darcy remained as he was, the tip of the sharp foil lightly caressing Howard’s shirt. Howard’s bravado waned. Darcy smiled.
Howard should be afraid. He should be as afraid as Elizabeth had been.
Darcy stared into the panicked eyes of his adversary, enjoying the way the man’s complexion was now devoid of color.
A bead of perspiration gathered on Howard’s forehead and ran into his eye, making him blink.
But Howard was in no danger from Darcy. Honor was a ruthless taskmaster.
It would not allow him to kill an unarmed man.
No matter if that man wished Darcy dead.
No matter if had he made the attempt. Darcy scowled. “I am not going to kill you, Howard.”
Howard sagged a little in relief. But Darcy leaned in with just a bit more pressure and raised his voice. They wanted a spectacle? Devil take them, they could have one. “Though every man here knows I would be justified in running you through, I will spare you.” He paused. “But you must apologize.”
Howard held up a shaking hand. “I apologize for the insult to your wife, Darcy.” He said grimly. “And to your sister.”
“Are you truly such a fool as to provoke a man into killing you?” came a voice from behind Fitz.
“An honest man whom you have attacked since the summer merely because he refused to wed your ruined sister? By the by,” he added drolly, “it was Lord Bartholomew Denham who did the deed.” Henry stepped out onto the floor.
Howard’s eyes narrowed. “That is a lie.”
Henry smiled and slowly shook his head. “I am afraid that it is not.”
Miss Howard’s fate had been spoken of for months, but not the disagreement between Darcy and Howard and not the identity of her lover. There was surprise in the hum of voices that followed the revelation.
Of course it was Henry, publishing Darcy’s private business far and wide.
He wondered where his cousin had learned that Denham was Miss Howard’s lover.
His mind was in turmoil, but eventually, he realized that he still had Howard pinned to the wall.
Slowly, Darcy lowered the blade and Howard slid to the floor.
“Apologize properly,” Darcy said coolly.
Howard closed his eyes and spoke loudly enough for the gathered men to hear. “I apologize, Darcy.” The tension in the room eased significantly.
“You have had your fun, and you have your gossip,” Henry said, waving his arms towards the back of the hall. “Settle your business elsewhere. Everyone—out.”
The spectators filed from the room exchanging a great deal of conversation. Fitz snatched the foil from Darcy’s hand. “You nearly placed your head in a noose, Darce,” he mumbled, his complexion ashen. “Do not ever do that to me again.”
“He did no such thing, Richard,” Henry said cheerfully. “I never knew you had such theatrical flair, Darcy. I quite approve. Shall we move to a more private room?”
With a single look at an attendant, Henry procured them a room in the back of the building. Fitz yanked Howard up from the floor and shoved the man into the room as Darcy and Henry followed.
Howard seethed, crossing his arms over his chest. Fawkner had slunk out with the others, leaving him entirely alone.
“You are fortunate my wife does not wish to see me in prison,” Darcy told Howard. “Another man might easily have ended your life.”
“Your wife,” Henry said thoughtfully, “is the reason I was late.”
Henry had seen Elizabeth this morning? Darcy’s eyes shot over to his eldest cousin. “Is she well?”
“Quite,” Henry said admiringly. “She dashed into the house some hours ago to ask Georgiana whether Miss Howard had an intimate friend. Apparently, you two had an enlightening conversation with Georgiana some days back, and Elizabeth, you see, had the notion that Howard did not ask you to marry his sister on a whim.”
”A whim!“ Howard bellowed. “Would I have gone to such lengths on a whim?”
“After your actions today,” Fitz replied, stepping up until he was nose to nose with an irate Howard, “I would have to say you are thick enough to do just that.”
“Your cousin deflowered my sister,” Howard hissed, “and refused to marry her. Her honor and mine demand recompense.”
“Are you mad?” Darcy cried, exasperation and rage coloring his words. “I have never even met your sister! I certainly did not bed her.”
“You will burn for it, Darcy,” Howard insisted.
“Quiet, you,” Fitz said, shoving the man away.
“Stubborn, eh?” Henry asked laconically. “I rather thought you might be.” He reached into his coat, removed a letter, and held it just beyond Howard’s reach. “Recognize the seal?” He unfolded the page. “What about the script?”
Howard’s eyes widened and then fixed on Henry’s. “That is Amelia’s hand. What have you done?”
Henry placed a hand against his chest. “And I am called melodramatic. I have done nothing to you or your sister. More to the point, neither has my cousin.“ He handed Howard the letter. “Your sister lied to you. She told you that Darcy was the man who seduced her.”
Howard pointed a finger at Darcy. “He mocked me for it, but never did he deny it!”
“I did not mock you, and had you actually accused me, I most certainly would have denied it,“ Darcy declared. “You did not. You only pressed me to wed her.”
Howard’s mouth hung open, and he stared at Darcy, unblinking. “Who would press a man to wed his ruined sister were he not the scoundrel who had done it?”
Darcy rolled his eyes. He was rather tired of this particular conversation, but he could not reveal the men without identifying the girls. “I had the same reaction. You were the third.”
He was met by an incredulous stare. “If it was not you,” Howard asked angrily, “then who?”
“I believe I have already identified the man,” Henry said. He glanced at Darcy, then Fitz, then Howard. “Why does no one ever believe me?”
“My sister said it was Darcy,” Howard said doggedly, but for the first time, a note of doubt sounded in his voice.
“Well,” Henry drawled, drawing it all out and clearly enjoying himself.
“Miss Howard may not have told you the truth, but she did write everything that was in her heart to her dear friend, Miss Harriet Dixon.
“ He shook out the page and began to read aloud.
“Dearest Harriet,” he announced in a girlish tone.
Darcy ran both hands through his hair and laced his fingers together behind his head, his strength at last beginning to ebb away. “Henry,” he said with a groan, “I beg you, tell us how this ends.”
Henry sighed. “You spoil my fun, Darcy, but in light of your heroic turn this morning, I will humor you.” He addressed Howard directly.
“In this letter, Amelia tells Harriet that she lied to you about Darcy and now does not know how to take it back. Apparently, my cousin Miss Darcy made it known to all her friends that her brother would only marry if he selected his own wife. Miss Howard was quite sure he would never allow his hand to be forced.” He smiled sweetly at Darcy. “You are a legend, Darcy.”
Darcy glowered at his eldest cousin.
“Stop it, Henry,” Fitz warned.
Henry sighed. “Very well.” He handed the letter to Howard. “I have made a copy.
You will see that your sister . . .”
Howard’s eyes traced the lines. He glanced up and blinked.
“She thought Darcy’s reputation would keep me from pursuing the matter?
That I would not bother to speak to Darcy because he had declared so forcefully that he would never be coerced?
” He groped behind him for a chair and finding one, sat heavily, still clutching the letter.
“Her ignorance of how men operate is shocking indeed. Sadly—and this is the greater offense—your sister thought nothing of destroying Darcy’s reputation as she awaited her lover to rescue her.
She must have at least understood that you would not be able to insist that the son of a duke do the honorable thing and wed her.
” Henry shook his head. “We do these girls an injustice, confusing ignorance for innocence.”
Darcy watched Howard’s arrogant righteousness and fury draining away as he read the rest of his sister’s missive.
When Howard had finished and glanced up, Henry continued delivering his oration.
“Miss Harriet’s father called her to his study.
There, she was closely questioned by her pater and ultimately ordered to produce this letter.
She admitted to us both that your sister was meeting the third son of the Duke of Denham.
Several times a week, at the end. In various parks, and .
. . other locations.” He pointed to the letter. “There, third line from the bottom.”
Darcy and Fitz grimaced. Lord Bartholomew was young, handsome, rich, well-connected, and a scoundrel through and through. Howard was incensed.
“Lord Bartholomew?” Howard cried. “Blast that girl! She swore it was Darcy, and I believed her.“ He covered his eyes with one hand, still clutching the letter in his other. “I believed her.”
Darcy watched Howard warily. Georgiana had told him the truth. She had come so very close to ruin, but when he arrived in Ramsgate, she had acknowledged everything to him at once. There but for the grace of God, he thought.
“What about the rumors?” Howard asked uncertainly.
“Darcy promised his discretion, and yet it was all over the ton! We had handled it. The babe was provided for and placed with our distant cousins. Amelia was preparing for the season. She would never have had the match she might once have had, but she could have had a good life. No one else knew!”
Henry reached down and flicked his index finger against Howard’s ear.
“You really are a stupid man, Howard. I have handed you a letter. It was only the most explicit of three sent to Miss Harriet Dixon, who is not yet out. Do you know who is out? Harriet’s elder sister Penelope, who Miss Harriet says reads her post. In both deed and word, your sister is the source of her own downfall. ”