Chapter Twenty-Four
They put themselves together, and Felicity threw him a glare as Tristan smiled smugly. She was sticky between her thighs, and he wouldn’t let her clean herself yet. He said he wanted to think about her dripping with his—she couldn’t finish the thought, the wicked man.
Her wicked man.
She couldn’t be angry. There was a part of her, a deep, scandalous part, that enjoyed this carnal side of him.
She sat and took a sip of her now cold tea. Tristan left the room briefly, and when he returned, he was accompanied by not only Lady Amelia and her husband, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon and Lord Alston.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon entered the room with her usual gravity and magnetic quality and took a seat in the plush wingback chair across from the sofa. Felicity couldn’t tell if she was pleased by the night’s outcome or angry.
“Congratulations, Mr. Chase, or are you using your full name now?”
Felicity turned to him. He sat beside her, her hand clasped in his.
“Now that my brother’s debt is cleared and the house once again in Cameron hands, I’m ready.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon pulled a pouch and leather folio from her skirts. “The remainder of your winnings and of course, as promised, the deed to Lark Hall.”
He leaned forward and took the folio, opening it to reveal the official document. “How did you get this?”
“My usual ways. Try not to lose it at the tables.”
“I won’t be returning,” he said. “We’ll leave as soon as possible.”
“There is one more obstacle in your path,” she reminded him.
“She said yes.”
Lady Amelia made a noise and covered her mouth, but her excitement was evident. Felicity couldn’t stop her answering smile. “I did.”
“Lovely, but there still seems to be an issue with the fiancé, the father, and the inheritance. You must have the father’s approval to collect it.”
“I don’t care about it,” Felicity said.
“Dear, think of your sisters. If he keeps it, how might he use it against them? But if you have it, then you can provide dowries for them and give them London seasons. You’ll have the control to make sure your father can’t bully them into dreadful marriages. Five thousand pounds is no paltry sum.”
Felicity chewed her lip. That was true. She hadn’t considered how the money could be leveraged for her sisters.
Tristan coughed. “I beg your pardon.” He turned to her. “Did she say five thousand pounds?”
Felicity nodded. “Absurd, isn’t it? What was I meant to do with all that?”
“It’s no wonder Mr. Revere is eager to resort to murder to get his hands on it,” Alston said. “He’s adamant about the duel, by the way.”
Felicity’s heart lurched. “Duel? What duel?”
“Mr. Revere challenged him at the table,” Lady Amelia said. “Claimed he cheated.”
“Which he was then corrected upon,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said vehemently. “But a challenge is a challenge. You must meet him at dawn. I’ve arranged a location where the authorities won’t interfere. Richmond Park.”
Felicity appealed to Tristan, who seemed far too calm at the announcement that he’d be shot at tomorrow. “You can’t do this. He’s an excellent marksman.”
“I’m not worried.”
“That’s good. I bet on you,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “Now, I bid you goodnight. I have a gaming club to run.” The men stood as she got to her feet and Alston offered his arm as he showed her out.
“Let’s go home,” Lady Amelia said. “We’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Tristan, please,” Felicity begged. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth it.”
“Honor is always worth it, Flick.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “If he needs to look death in the face before he gives up and goes home, I’ll happily oblige him.”
“This isn’t fisticuffs. Guns kill. I’ve seen what they can do to a body. Please.”
“There’s bloodshed in Winter’s Well?” Lady Amelia asked.
“There is when two old men go hunting and one of them has poor vision.”
Tristan cupped her cheek. “It will be fine.”
Felicity dropped his hand. “This pointless violence is not fine. What is it with men always thinking brute force is an acceptable response when they don’t get their way? This is not a solution!”
“It’s about honor,” he argued gently.
“He has no honor!” Felicity shouted. “There is nothing for him to restore. He’s looking for a chance to hurt us both and you’re going to give it to him. Don’t do this, please. I’m begging you. If you love me, you won’t go and risk your life so that he can feel better about himself.”
His face hardened. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” she returned as she stepped past him. “It truly is. There is no honor in taking another man’s life over a game, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.”
Lady Amelia put her arm around her and led her from the room. Felicity was so angry she couldn’t look at him.
Honor. Dueling. The audacity of men to attach so much importance to rules they made up infuriated her.
However, that same honor was never impugned by lies, adultery, and disrespect toward others they perceived of as less.
Men could do horrible things and still consider themselves honorable.
Hogwash, that’s what it was. A system they built for their own avarice and then forced others to uphold.
Felicity didn’t know if Tristan followed.
She rode home with Lady Amelia and Blakewood in the carriage and went straight to her room to unpin her hair and take off this blasted gown.
Matilda offered a bath, but Felicity only wanted a ewer of hot water to wipe away the smell of the Den and the stickiness between her thighs.
The duel had spoiled what should have been a night to remember.
After cleaning herself up and putting on her softest, thickest nightgown, Felicity climbed into bed.
It was then she noticed that it had started to rain.
She thought of Tristan in his cold flat with the hole in the roof.
She didn’t want to face him just yet, but she did feel sorry for him, shivering through the night under that thin blanket. Then she started to miss him.
Felicity blew out her bedside candle and punched her pillow before hunkering down in the covers and closing her eyes, willing herself to sleep, even though she didn’t want morning to come.
Her door clicked shut and then locked with a soft snick.
Felicity pretended to be asleep, though she could hear the steps coming toward her bed, then the hush of clothing being removed.
She was a ball of tension as he slid under the coverlet and tucked up against her back, his broad chest and thick arm cocooning her in his warmth.
She broke.
Felicity turned in his hold and the tears she’d fought all night burst forth as she buried her face in his chest and cowered into his hold.
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t go.”
“Shh. If I ask you not to worry about it, what are the odds you’ll listen?”
“This isn’t a game. This is your life. My life. What am I supposed to do if he kills you? Marry Hugstead as my consolation prize?”
He stiffened. “He won’t kill me.”
“He could! He’s going to point a gun at you and shoot!”
“It’s a well-respected rule that opponents aim over each other’s heads or—if they’re really intent on harm—aim at an extremity.”
“You trust him? You’re willing to put your life in that monster’s hands?”
“Ye of little faith,” he said.
Felicity slipped her arm under him and hugged him tightly. “I can’t bear it. The thought of such casual violence. Why must the world be this way? You claim you’re not a gentleman, yet you’re willing to die for a gentleman’s honor? I don’t understand, Tristan. I’ll never understand.”
He sighed. “I don’t know that there is anything that I can say that will help you understand or make you feel better.
I’m a gentleman on paper. I am landed gentry, aye.
But more importantly, I’m a Scotsman. We’ve a long, bloody history of having to defend what’s ours with our lives.
You’re mine, Flick, and I will defend you with my life.
Our home, our future, our siblings. This is not about a word or its ambiguous meaning.
It’s about trust, loyalty, respect, and my integrity as a person.
If I don’t show up tomorrow, then I’m declaring that I’m too cowardly to defend those things and that I don’t deserve them. ”
“But you do,” Felicity pressed.
“I know I do, which is why I have to go.”
Felicity wept harder.
“I must go. I will face him. We’ll both leave with our grievances settled, without bloodshed.”
“You’re certain?”
“As certain as any man can be.”
Felicity sniffed and looked up at his face. “Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
He sighed heavily. “It is not a place for women.”
“I’m going, or you’re not going, Tristan Chase Cameron.”
That made him smile. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”
“Why did you hide your name?”
“I didn’t want to be associated with my brother. That’s all.”
“You could have told me.”
“I could have. And you could have told me your real name. But neither of us did for our own reasons.”
“What is your reason?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I got used to it. My father always called me Tristan Chase when he was cross with me. It seemed fitting to use.”
Now it was Felicity’s turn to sigh. Exhaustion weighed her down and Tristan’s warmth soothed the tension in her body. But she still didn’t want tomorrow to come.
“I love you,” he whispered and then kissed the top of her head.
“Then you’ll take me with you tomorrow,” she whispered back. He groaned and she smiled. “I love you, too.”