The earl pushed his shoulders from the mantelpiece and walked to the marquess. “You’ve been long coming back, Jason. Actually, when you came in, I was plotting the possibility of trussing Monteith up in a sack and having my captain sail away with him to the West Indies. Perhaps acting as a bookkeeper on my plantation in Jamaica will give him a healthier respect for the life he leads here in London.”
“I daresay the young gentleman would rule the islands within a month either through persuasion or by dispatching all the current leaders in duels.” Neither man laughed. The marquess said, “It’s hellishly cold, Julien, would you care for a sherry?”
The earl nodded and there was companionable silence until both gentlemen, glasses in hand, seated themselves near to the crackling fire. After a moment, the earl said reluctantly, “As much as I dislike it, Jason, I must of course inquire as to your preference of weapons, as Monteith was the challenger.”
“Need you really ask, Julien? A pistol is far too deadly a weapon, and you must know that despite all the young puppy has said and done, I have no wish to kill him. He can’t be all that experienced with the foil, and I hope to contrive a quick and clean prick through his arm. That ought to cool his murderous instincts, at least for a month.”
“That’s what I hoped you would say, Jason. I might tell you, too, that Harry informed me that Monteith is a crack shot. I would have feared the outcome had you chosen pistols.”
“You believe I could be brought to the ground by a lad who can’t even grow whiskers? No, don’t answer that. Now, how is poor Harry taking all this? Judging from his openmouthed expression, I gather he didn’t know what Monteith intended this evening.”
“Harry is torn in two directions. Of course, his honor forbids him to refuse to second his friend. I left him with Kate. Yes, I’m a coward, but she deals well with him. Good Lord, what could I say?”
The earl rose and placed his empty glass on the sideboard. “I must be off now, Jason. It’s past midnight and you must be clear and steady on the morrow. I shall be here with my carriage before seven o’clock.”
“Your carriage, Julien? You terrify me. I’d hoped to ride from the park all in one piece.”
The earl merely smiled slightly, but remained silent. Actually, it had been Kate who’d insisted on the carriage. The earl said as he walked beside the marquess from the study, “What do you intend to do about Melissande now, Jason?”
Lord Oberlon shrugged, saying, “Her house has three more months on its lease. She may stay until then. With her beauty and figure, I have no doubt that she will attach another well-breeched gentleman long before that time.” He added, a hint of amused incredulity in his voice, “Did you know that Monteith gave her a riding habit? Did you know he provided a mare for her called Coquette? Do you know he likened her to Helen of Troy and to Aphrodite, a goddess I’m certain Melissande has never heard of before? His ingenuity is frightening. His determination to fell me is, well, it’s more than frightening. I only wish I knew why.”
“A riding habit.” The earl laughed, he couldn’t stop it. Things were so very grim, yet look what Monteith had done to achieve his goal. It boggled the mind. The earl turned to his friend and clasped his hand. Mindful of Rabbell standing near, he said quietly, “You have acted quite rightly in this wretched business. Until tomorrow, Jason.”
Chapter Twenty-four
It was a blistering cold overcast morning. Naked oak and elm trees stood sentinel over the hard frozen ground at the north end of Hounslow Heath. There was no foliage this time of year. There were no onlookers, not on the heath, even the highwaymen who chanced to ply their trade here had long gone back to their lairs.
The dull thudding of horses’ hooves and the crunching of carriage wheels were the only sounds to break the monotony of the gently rustling branches, and the chirping of the more hearty sparrows.