Chapter Twenty
It was as good a day as any to die, Sebastian thought, staring across the field to where the sun had just crested the horizon. The first rays were shining through a mist that floated low on the dew-damp grass, and there was a faint breeze touching his face, promising a warm and pleasant morning.
The wind was against him, and the sun in his eyes, just as he wanted it.
He would spare his friend no advantage, today.
If Septon came to harm, even by accident, it would hurt too many others.
There were rumours that, after a year of marriage, Portia was finally with child, and he should hate to see her widowed.
There was Cassie to think of, as well. But when was he ever not thinking of her?
Despite the circumstances, he smiled.
‘Are you ready?’ Alex Landers, his second, touched his arm and gave him a puzzled look. Landers was not so much a friend as an acquaintance with time on his hands who had never seen a duel before.
Sebastian hoped he did not disappoint.
‘I am,’ he said, glancing back to Julian again, then away. It was not as if he had expected his friend to bring Cassandra with him. There was no reason for a lady to witness such a grim spectacle.
Well, one perhaps. After her rough dismissal of him yesterday, he feared that she might come just to gloat.
But after finishing his letter to her, he had written his banker to dispose of the unentailed part of his estate.
When he was gone, she would be a very wealthy woman.
If a child resulted from the most wonderful mistake he’d ever made, it could not inherit a title, but he or she would be rich enough not to care.
He smiled again, thinking of the family that might survive him. They might not miss him, but they would live well and be happy.
It was a shame that he might damage Julian’s reputation with this.
But he suspected that Septon would rather see him dead than married to his sister.
His own rakehell ways were long behind him.
Since marrying Portia, he had been an upright member of the ton.
Society would forgive him, as they had last time he’d duelled, blaming Sebastian for everything that had gone wrong.
If it came to a trial, Julian’s friends in Parliament would agree that killing Sebastian was no different than putting down a mad dog: an ugly business that had to be done for the benefit of all.
Landers left him, walking to the centre of the field to meet Julian’s second.
Their hushed voices carried on the silent air as if they were only a few feet away.
They were examining the weapons. There would be no problem.
He had brought them from the apartment, and they’d been cleaned and oiled just a week ago.
The powder was dry and fresh from the gunsmith.
He was surprised that he felt no fear as he thought of what was to come, only sadness.
He closed his eyes, thinking of Cassie’s kiss and the warmth of her body next to his.
It had been good. Better than that, really.
As they’d moved against each other, he’d been imagining a lifetime of days and nights.
The joy in him had been profound, unlike anything he’d felt.
He wished he could have a little more of that life, another afternoon like yesterday, or maybe a wasted week.
If not, it was probably just as well things were ending.
He did not want to muddle along for decades with people pestering him about getting an heir and assuring the succession.
He was not going to marry without love, just to satisfy the Crown.
As Landers walked back to him with a pistol, a carriage appeared in the distance, the horses racing towards the open field where they stood. Was someone coming to stop them?
He watched it, numb. But as it came closer, his curiosity grew, turning to dread. It stopped near Septon and his second and a cloaked woman leapt out rushing to the two men. He heard a faint, shrill voice arguing against the two calm male voices.
He’d been hoping it was Portia, come to stop her husband from doing something foolish. He was not so lucky. Cassie had found them, just as he’d feared she might.
He sighed, focusing inward and trying to keep his nerves steady. No matter her reason for coming, what he needed to do would be infinitely more difficult now that she was here.
A part of him wanted to go to her, to prostrate himself and beg for absolution. Or one last, perfect kiss before dying. It would be the stuff of poetry and a fitting end. Even in hell, he could survive on that final taste of her lips.
He shook his head and muttered, ‘Rot.’ Then, he went back to checking the gun Landers had handed him. It did not matter if it was loaded or not, but it was nice to keep busy. When he could find no other reason to delay, he walked forward to meet Julian in the centre of the open ground.
Cassie was waiting there, as well. She stared at him, and he could not look away. ‘I read your letter,’ she said.
‘You were not supposed to see it until breakfast,’ he replied.
‘Stop this,’ she said, holding out a hand to him. ‘We need to talk.’
‘It is too late for that,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘What I am doing is for the best.’
‘For whom?’
‘For you,’ he said firmly. ‘I think your brother and I agree that you deserve the best future possible. That is not with me.’ He reached for her, lifted one of her hands to his lips, then dropped it again and turned to face Julian, who gestured to the side.
‘Stand out of the way, Cassandra.’
She turned to him as well, hands on hips. ‘I told you yesterday that I am tired of you telling me what to do. I know my own mind. And I am going to marry Sebastian.’
‘We agreed a few hours ago that you were not going to marry anyone,’ Julian said in the reasonable voice men used with women when they were annoyed. ‘And that you were going back to the country to live with the Fisks.’
‘Circumstances have changed,’ she said. She was not smiling, but his heart leapt.
‘I was under the impression that he had not asked for your hand,’ Julian said. ‘He has not asked me, at least.’ He looked past her, glaring at Sebastian. ‘If he had, the answer would have been no.’
‘We are all aware of your opinion,’ Cassie said with a dramatic sigh. ‘As I said before, it does not signify.’ Then, she threw herself in front of Sebastian, arms spread wide and body pressed intimately into his. ‘Now put down the pistols before someone is hurt.’
Julian did not move, but Sebastian whispered into her perfect ear, which was very near to his mouth. ‘Let go of me for a minute and I will put it aside.’
He pushed at her with his free hand but she did not budge, following him to the ground as he crouched and set his weapon aside.
‘Cassie,’ Julian said in a warning voice. ‘You need to move.’
She reached behind her, hands fluttering for a moment before locking onto his hips and pulling him tight to her bottom in a way that was uncomfortably intimate for a public setting. ‘Julian, if you shoot him, I swear that I shall never speak to you again.’
Sebastian squirmed, trying to put some space between them.
But as it had been when they were by the fishpond, her hold was tight and hard to dislodge.
‘Cassandra,’ he said softly. ‘There will be time for this later. But now, you must release me.’ He swallowed nervously, fighting the first sparks of desire. ‘Let me go or I swear, I shall die.’
‘Do not talk of death,’ she said, pressing herself even closer to him and nestling her hips into his groin. ‘If my brother shoots you, I might not be able to save you this time.’
‘This time?’ Julian interjected.
‘The last time, you were trying to save your brother, not me,’ Sebastian reminded her.
‘That was last year.’ She planted her feet wide and refused to move.
He was painfully aware of each movement, the way their bodies aligned, his manhood shifting to nudge between her legs.
If she noticed, she gave no sign, but said, ‘As I told Julian, circumstances have changed.’
‘Changed in what way? What do you mean by last year? You had not met until our ball.’ Julian’s questions were louder, more insistent and not of interest to either of them.
‘Changed in what way?’ Sebastian whispered urgently.
‘Today, I am here to save you. Only you.’ Her head lolled back on his shoulder and she grabbed one of his hands, holding it against her waist. ‘A year ago, I hardly knew you.’ Then she turned her head and whispered so low that only he could hear.
‘But I know you, now. I could know you much better, if you let me.’
The words sizzled in his blood, and his head filled with possibilities.
He took a breath and removed his hand from her ribs. ‘That is…very flattering, Miss Fisk.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But, if you continue teasing me in this manner, things will not end well for me.’
‘Whyever for?’ she said.
Because he was as stiff as the mast of the Victory.
He cleared his throat again, trying to think of a way to explain. ‘I am indisposed. If you could, perhaps, give me a little space…’ But if she did, it would reveal his unfortunate condition to Julian who would shoot him in cold blood for assaulting his sister.
‘Cassandra, leave the man alone. We can discuss your future at home, over breakfast.’
She raised her head and gave her brother a foul look. ‘We have nothing to discuss.’ Then, she leaned back to whisper again. ‘He will have to shoot through me. I have no intention of moving.’
She looked back to her brother. ‘I would rather die alone than live a single day without him, Julian.’
Her brother handed his gun to his second and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if rejecting the idea. ‘Be reasonable.’
She jerked her head to the side, to the place where her carriage waited. ‘There is a post-chaise waiting by the tree. The driver will take us to Gretna.’
‘It will take days to get there,’ he reminded her.