Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Iadore Evelyn, and I should like nothing more than to have her as my sister-in-law, but I cannot let you do this,” Octavia croaked, quite pale in the gloom of the hallway, her hand on Hugo’s sleeve.
It was not yet dawn, and he had hoped to leave the house without anyone noticing. He supposed he should have known, considering what had happened to his sister, that she would not simply let him depart for a duel without trying to prevent it.
Although, back then, it was Laurence who was injured in the defense of Octavia’s honor.
“As I told Evelyn, all will be well,” Hugo said in earnest, as he tried to prize his sister’s hand from his sleeve. “I do not intend to die today.”
“It is a duel, brother! With pistols!” Octavia snapped. “You do not get to decide the outcome. That is rather the point of a duel.”
He sighed. Rather than fight the grip on his sleeve, he put his arms around his sister and pulled her into a fierce hug. Of course she would be worried, of course she would fear the worst, but what choice did he have?
“I have to fight for her, Octavia,” he said softly. “I love her.”
Octavia clung on. “But I cannot lose you. Neither of us can lose you.”
“Hardly anyone dies in duels anymore,” Hugo told her, meaning it to encourage her.
Instead, she promptly burst into tears, sobbing in his arms, wiping her face on the shoulder of his tailcoat.
“I wish it did not have to be like this, but her father will not give his blessing,” Hugo said, his heart sore.
“This is the only way that I shall be allowed to marry her, for he will not be able to argue with the result of the duel. The baron may not even attend, which means he will forfeit. That is as good as a win, Octavia.”
In truth, that was the very reason why he was not at all nervous about the early morning meeting by the Serpentine. He had seen the baron’s face last night. The gentleman had been terrified and, what was more, he had been forced into this duel by Josiah’s command, not his own.
He will not be there. Hugo did not want to call the man a coward, but he did not seem like the sort of fellow who would ever stand in a duel with someone else.
“I have to go, Octavia,” he said apologetically.
“I will come with you,” she tried to insist, pulling back. “Yes, I will come with you.”
Hugo shook his head. “You will not, my dear sister. You will stay here, in the drawing room or the kitchens if you cannot bear your chambers, and you will drink tea and you will wait until I return with fortuitous news.”
“You cannot forbid me,” she replied, her voice wavering.
“In this instance, I can and I must.” He smiled. “A duel is no place for a lady.”
Octavia’s brow furrowed in something like anger.
“Do you really think this will change anything? You would be better off going directly to Evelyn’s home, stealing her away from there while everyone else is waiting for you to appear at the duel, and riding as fast toward the Scottish border as you can.
” She paused, drawing in a breath. “Her father will not relent. If the baron does not show up, her father will be there, and he will stand in as a replacement if he must.”
Admittedly, Hugo had not thought of that. He knew the kind of gentleman that Josiah was, for he had encountered numerous among society’s peers: they never did anything themselves. They complained and lamented and made idle threats, but they were not men of action.
Could it be that I have misread him? Hugo doubted it.
The very reason that Josiah had put the responsibility on the baron’s shoulders was so he would not have to raise a pistol and risk his life himself.
That was patently clear. But if pushed, might Josiah step in?
Perhaps Matthew or Luke would, at the command of their father.
The first little shiver of unease tingled at the nape of his neck, creeping down his spine.
“I must go, Octavia,” he said more firmly. “I shall not be long. Please, do not fret, for if you fret then you shall make me nervous, and I cannot hold a pistol properly with a trembling hand.”
He mustered a bright smile that he did not feel, only to be met by his sister’s increasingly furious gaze.
Her lower lip trembled as she stared at him and, with a shake of her head and a mutter of, “If you die, I shall never forgive you,” she turned on her heel and strode off into the drawing room.
The slam of the door echoed through the house; a final display of her displeasure.
It has been so long since I have had something to fight for, dear sister. I am sorry that I have upset you, but this is something I cannot walk away from.
With a sigh and one last glance at the closed drawing room door, he took his pistol box from the side-table in the hallway and headed out.
Outside, a thin drizzle had begun to fall from the bruised pre-dawn skies. The driver gave him a solemn nod, the man’s hooded cloak giving him the chilling appearance of an executioner, as Hugo hurried into the carriage and sent up a quick prayer to the heavens that he might survive this.
The faint drizzle had become a downpour by the time Hugo reached Hyde Park.
Leaving his carriage by the gates so as not to alert anyone to the activity that was about to take place, it was a matter of minutes before he was soaked to the skin, pinching water from his eyes as he trudged along the darkened pathways toward the Serpentine.
There was a place there that was well known among the gentlemen of society, where duels were fought and lost. The constabulary were also keenly aware of it, but they did not often interfere in the quarrels of high society, even if it was illegal.
Now and then, they would appear in an attempt to put gentlemen off dueling, but Hugo doubted they would bother on such a morning as this.
No one who did not need to would be out in this weather.
It was some time before he glimpsed the faint glow of lanterns through the dense bushes that surrounded the dueling spot. A horse nickered and the gruff voices of men could be heard, reigniting Hugo’s nerves.
“Gentlemen,” he said with a brazen grin, as he walked into the soggy arena to fight for his love. “A lovely morning for it.”
His heart jolted slightly at the sight of Miles standing there in a dripping greatcoat, his head bowed as if he were at his own funeral. Hugo really had expected the man to back out of the agreement, but perhaps the baron had more determination to have Evelyn for himself than Hugo had thought.
Josiah was also there, flanked by his two sons. Replacements, certainly, if Miles should lose his nerve. Or, maybe, they were just there to act as seconds.
“This is your last chance to forfeit,” Josiah said, shivering in the cold and the wet.
“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to the baron,” Hugo replied with a smirk.
Miles seemed to shudder, shoving his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat. Not exactly the stance of a gentleman who was eager to duel, unless he meant to shoot through the fabric of his coat.
“You insulted me gravely last night,” Josiah continued, a veritable waterfall tumbling off the rim of his top hat. “An apology and a promise to stay far away from my daughter would suffice.”
Hugo quirked an eyebrow. “Have you lost your nerve, Lord Townshend?” He glanced at Miles. “Or is it that the most reasonable gentleman among you has informed you that he does not wish to duel for your daughter’s hand?”
“My nerves are perfectly steady!” Josiah snapped. “And the baron is more than willing to duel for my daughter’s hand. Is that not so, Lord Hemstich?”
Miles did not raise his head, nor did he answer.
“I love her, you know,” Hugo said to the baron. “I love her with all of my heart, and I mean to spend the rest of my days making her happy. That is why I have no intention of losing today. I have a life to begin with her. An entire future with her. Can you say that you have the same determination?”
Miles peered up at him, his face drained of color, a deep frown creasing his brow.
“There is no price I will not pay in order to secure her happiness, Lord Hemstich,” Hugo continued. “And you should know that she loves me in return.”
The baron’s frown altered slightly, his despair transforming into something like curiosity.
“No price?” Miles asked quietly, coming forward.
Taking the man to one side, Hugo replied in a low voice, “Name it.”
“I have… debts,” Miles said with a grimace. “Not considerable, but bothersome enough. It is why I need Lady Evelyn’s dowry.”
Hugo nodded. “What is the sum?”
He was aware of Josiah and Evelyn’s brothers watching the conversation with some agitation. It would not be long before Josiah interrupted; Hugo could sense it in the air.
“Four-hundred pounds,” Miles replied.
The amount was a pleasant surprise to Hugo, who had braced to hear a much larger sum.
“We could call it five hundred,” he said generously, “for the inconvenience of this awful morning, and for the gossip that will surely abound. Although it may serve you well, as I hear that sympathy draws a great deal of interest from society’s ladies. ”
“Five hundred pounds? You would give that so readily?” Miles pressed, a flicker of relief passing across his face.
“I would,” Hugo replied with a smile. “It is no sum at all if it means I get to keep my life and my beloved.”
A small smile crept onto Miles’ lips. “I wish you every happiness, Your Grace.” He paused. “Dumb shots?”
“Dumb shots,” Hugo agreed.
With that, the gentlemen drew apart.
“It shall be one shot apiece,” Miles announced, as if that was all they had been discussing.
Since Hugo had not thought to bring a second, it was not so strange that the principals would discuss the terms of the duel themselves.