Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Her father looked between them, his face set in weathered lines that looked like a permanent scowl.
He wore his tattered brown hat that he wore every day, sunup to sundown.
Felicity searched her heart for any feeling of familial love and realized she’d never had it.
Her father was always an authority in her life, not a parent.
He treated her like a ward, not a beloved child. Did he even know how to love?
Chadwick ripped off his brown leather top hat like he might throw it on the ground. “If that’s what you want, fine. Him first, then her.” Chadwick said with gleeful malice.
Alston shook his head as he held open the box of pistols. “I really miss the time in my life when my mornings were significantly less dramatic.”
“That’s because you were unconscious,” Blakewood said. “This is what it feels like to be friends with you.”
Alston glared at him. “And yet you married my sister, and now you’ll never be rid of me, brother.”
Lady Amelia stepped to Felicity’s side. “Have you ever shot a pistol?”
Felicity nodded, her bravado wavering as she watched Tristan pick up the gun.
“I’ve hunted small game,” she whispered to Lady Amelia.
“Well, he is a small man in spirit. In size, he’s like a barrel. He won’t be hard to miss.”
“I thought I was supposed to miss?”
“I think in this situation, maiming him is warranted.”
Felicity agreed, but she was not amused at the thought of hurting another person. Her challenge was symbolic, like Lady Amelia had said. But the danger was all too real as the pistols were primed.
She almost reached for him as Tristan looked back at her, his eyes saying everything he would not in front of others.
She wanted to be reassured by the steadiness of his hand, his confident stride across the leaf strewn ground, but her heart was pulsing in her throat.
That drum of warning that had not lessened.
Lady Amelia took Felicity’s hand, rubbing her cold fingers. Alston came to her side, standing close enough for his arm to press to hers as if the siblings had decided to brace her for the inevitable.
She watched the man she loved stand back-to-back with the man she hated, and they began to count twenty paces.
Time slowed, Felicity never took her eyes off Chadwick, she knew he’d do something dishonorable—that’s what this was.
This was the scale that weighed men. A true gentleman would follow the rules of the duel to the letter.
Both redeeming their honor. But the man who didn’t, he proved exactly how despicable he was.
Chadwick did not disappoint. At the nineteenth step he whipped around and shot. Felicity didn’t have time to scream as she snapped her head toward Tristan. He stood sideways, pistol drawn. The smoked cleared from Chadwick’s gun, and his sneer of triumph faltered as Tristan took aim and shot.
Felicity flinched, covering her eyes. Cheers erupted and Amelia was hopping beside her.
Felicity looked between her fingers, and Tristan was still standing. Chadwick was on his knees, his face ghostly white, his hat gone, rolling to a halt on the ground. As she watched, he wet himself and then he fainted. Felicity went weak in the knees and Alston caught her by the arm.
“He’s fine. They’re both fine,” Lady Amelia said.
“But . . .” She couldn’t believe it was over.
Just like that. A full minute hadn’t passed, and it was done.
So much anticipation and vitriol, over instantly.
She deflated with overwhelming relief. Her father picked up Chadwick’s hat from the dirt and stuck a finger through a hole at its center, just below the midline.
Just where one might imagine the crown of a man’s head might be.
“He shot his hat off,” Blakewood said in astonishment. “He nearly scalped him.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Lady Amelia asked, peering at Chadwick, still on the ground.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon pushed to her feet. “Mr. Cameron, you’ve scared him witless.”
Tristan checked the gun and strode back to the tent. He set the pistol in the case and turned toward Felicity.
“I wasn’t going to give him the chance to shoot at my bride,” Tristan said.
Felicity approached him, her hands shaking as she set them on his shoulders. His eyes searched hers warily. “Are you all right?”
“I might be. Eventually. My ears are ringing, and I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
He kissed her forehead.
Alston whistled. “Was that intentional or pure luck like last night?”
“That was skill. A boyhood of mischief and hunting and military training.” He put his arm around Felicity, and she put her hand to his chest where his heart bounded like a scared rabbit.
He was not as calm as he seemed, but he wore an expert mask.
He looked down at her and smiled. “It just so happened Lady Luck was there with me last night.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon snorted. “Enough. Someone take that useless sack of piss flour back where he came from.”
“Madam,” her father approached, “it seems I am to face my daughter in his stead. Isn’t that the rule?”
Everyone froze.
“No.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon declared. “He’s already proven his dishonor. No duel needed.”
Felicity sagged against Tristan. Her father turned to her. He took off his hat and ran it between his fingers. He smoothed back his thin, wispy white hair.
“Girl, it would seem you’ve found yourself a suitable husband. As long as you marry him and restore your sisters’ honor, you may have your inheritance.”
“And my sisters,” Felicity said.
He frowned. “Those are my charges.”
“Those are your daughters, and if you care for them at all, you will let me dower them and get them out of that dying village. There are no young men there.” She looked over her shoulder to where Chadwick still lay on the ground.
Weeping now. “Not anyone worthy of them. Unless he leaves Winter’s Well, they won’t be safe. ”
He scrunched his nose and stuck his chin out. “I’ll consider it. Only after you’re married and settled. Until then, I’ll be leaving this wicked city. Write to your mother. She’s been worried sick.”
Tristan held out his hand. “I’m Tristan Cameron, of Clan Cameron. We’ll be living in Lark Hall near Inverness.”
“Scotland?” Her father raised his brows. “Good people. Good Protestant people.” He nodded as if he found this acceptable and shook Tristan’s hand.
Felicity huffed in annoyance and turned away from him.
The crowd of people was breaking up. Some offered to help carry Chadwick back to the carriage. His hat had disappeared.
Blakewood and Lady Amelia led them back toward where they’d parked the curricle.
“You drove that here?” Alston said. Tristan whistled at the shiny conveyance.
“You left us with no choice,” Lady Amelia said.
“How are we going to get back?” Felicity asked. She didn’t want to ride in that thing, and she didn’t want to let go of Tristan. But between a horse and the curricle, she chose the curricle. The drive was much slower, the gentlemen keeping pace, and Tristan rode by her side.
They returned to Alston House. Tristan helped Flick down from the curricle, taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers. As the butler opened the front door, Lady Amelia announced they should have a celebratory breakfast.
Celebrating was not what Tristan was in the mood for. Flick was pale, her skin chilled. He suspected she might be in a state of shock. “What would you like to do?” he asked her.
She leaned into him. “Lie down.”
“How about a bath first?”
“Are you saying I smell?”
“No. I can feel how wound up you are from the events. You need to relax and then rest.”
“What about you? You were nearly killed today.”
He chuckled. “Not even close. I knew he’d pull early, and I was ready.”
“You were shot at!”
“I’ve been shot at before.”
She huffed, her eyes closing, and she looked like she might cry.
“Everything is fine now. We have a future to look forward to. We will have a house, a family, your sisters, my siblings. Lark Hall will be full of laughter and love again.”
Tristan looked to where the others waited. Lady Amelia nodded and they went inside to give them privacy.
Tristan turned to face her and cupped her cheeks. “We did it.”
“We did what?”
“We fought and we won. We didn’t give up.
Frankly, this is an outcome I never imagined.
I thought my future would be endless days working to pay the debt.
Then I’d bring my siblings home, but there would still be so much work to do.
Now, well, there is still a fair amount of work once we get home, but you’ll be with me and that makes everything lovely. ”
“You’re not making sense.”
“I’m not?” He kissed her lips. “How about now?”
“I think I’m beginning to understand.”
He kissed her again. “Better?”
She nodded.
“Every day I get to spend with you is the best day I’ve ever had. Now we’ll have a lifetime.”
“A lifetime with you sounds perfect,” she said.
“Then how about a bath with me too?”
Her eyes widened. “We can’t do that! They’ll know.”
“They know we’re engaged and won’t care.”
“This is wicked.” But she smiled and drew closer to him.
“This is love. Love is allowed to break the rules.”