Chapter Eighteen #3
The earl shrugged. “Perhaps, but I am more suited to the title of duke than he ever was. Once Evan abandoned his family for the Navy, I was the one left behind with Father, learned everything from him. Even his will says such due to Buckthorne’s being lost.” He glared at Foxcroft, macabre in the lantern light.
“The powers-that-be have already signed off on it. Even without the results of this duel, I am the new Duke of Bettington.”
None of the dukes present argued the point, but they all wore matching expressions of disdain and even disgust.
Ravenhurst shook his head with a frown. “Do not come against us in the Lords, Sunderingham. You will lose, and we will oppose whatever you mean to do for the rest of your life.”
“Ha.” The earl shook his head as he and his cronies laughed. “I don’t need you or your support. There are others in the beau monde who will side with me. My work and agendas will prosper, regardless.”
Thornton thumped the end of his cane on the ground. “Perhaps, but if you think to advance your causes or align yourself anywhere in society, you’ll find that will prove a challenge and almost impossible while we’re in Town.”
The earl glared at them all in turn. “You can’t live forever, Your Graces.”
One of Foxcroft’s eyebrows went up with surprise. “Are you threatening us, Sunderingham?”
“I am not. Just leaving you with a warning, perhaps.” Seconds later, the earl and his entourage took their lanterns and then left the dueling field.
“Arses, all of you,” Hannah muttered as she fell to her knees once more beside the captain’s body.
Tears continued to fall. She laid a hand on his cold chest, made even colder due to the desultory rain that had started to fall since this whole debacle had begun.
“I thought when you came back that we might have had a chance, but you didn’t act as if that would happen. Now I’ll never know.”
Would she fall pregnant from one of their many couplings over the past week or so?
As much as she was fearful about that, she yearned for it because a child would be the only thing she had left of him.
It didn’t matter, for Evan was dead, and she would never again allow a man into her life.
Perhaps it was time to vanish from London, sell the townhouse and simply disappear into the countryside under a false name.
To mourn, to grieve, to wait until her horrible time on this mortal coil was done and she could join the captain and her daughter in the world beyond.
“There is no need for histrionics, sweeting. I am only pretending to be dead.”
The sound of Evan’s voice brought her eyes open, and her senses swinging again. “What?” She met his gaze—his alive gaze—and when he gave her that grin he reserved only for her, she was both livid, shocked, and unaccountably happy. “How is this possible?”
“Look.” As the dukes gathered around, Evan yanked up the tails of his fine lawn shirt.
Then he rapped his knuckles against a thick vest or some sort of breastplate made of thick, hard leather.
“This absorbed the ball.” His fingers went to the spot in the vest where the lead ball had, indeed, lodged deep into the leather shield.
Confusion clouded her mind as she stared. He wasn’t dead. “But the blood, so much blood…” Vaguely, she gestured at the mess on the ground and on his clothing.
“Theater dye packets.” As he spoke, Evan tugged one of them from beneath the leather vest. “One of the men at the club knows an actor at Drury Lane. A quick conversation and the exchange of coin brought these into my possession.”
None of it made any sense. Feeling at sixes and sevens, Hannah shook her head. “This was all a ruse?”
“Yes, and well planned between me and these dukes. I trust them completely.” Evan included all the men in his appreciative gaze. “They are truly the family I’ve chosen for myself. Much better than blood relatives, as you’ve had cause to notice.”
“But why?” It was all too much. Emotions rising through her chest threatened to make her violently ill.
As it was, she took refuge in heated anger.
“You are an insufferable pig.” As she struggled into a sitting position, Hannah slapped him.
Hard. So hard that her hand left a red mark on his cheek.
“You made me think you’d died, after everything I’ve been through, after everything we shared…
” I can’t take anymore. She scrambled to her feet.
“You lied to me, and I think I hate you, Captain Buckthorne.”
“Nonsense, sweeting. We all heard you declare your love for me.” He flashed a cheeky but charming grin. “And those strong emotions you’re showing just now tell me the opposite of your words.”
Anger clashed with far too many other things in her chest that she temporarily lost her mind.
“Go throw yourself in the Thames, you empty-headed, ridiculous baboon.” Though she meant to storm off in response to him using her—again—reaction finally set in, and unfortunately, darkness fell over her.
Seconds later, Hannah uttered a soft sigh and then she fainted while cursing him to the devil.