Everyone watched, unspeaking, until the surgeon looked up. “A flesh wound. Ugly, but not mortal. The ribs deflected the worst of the strike. With any luck at all, he’ll recover swiftly.” He then turned back to his patient, intent on his mission.
With that assurance, the other men could focus on the novelty of female observers. Eberling, the only man with no connection to the women, was the first to recover enough to comment. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he asked, confused. “Ladies must never see this sort of thing!”
“There is absolutely no danger of that, sir,” Rosalind replied evenly, facing him with her sightless eyes.
“She’s right, for she can see nothing,” Poppy noted. “And as far as I can tell, there is no duel going on, just a man who had an unfortunate accident with something pointy.”
“I concur,” Carlos said. “The young lady has described the scene perfectly. Marvelous luck there was a surgeon handy.”
Handing his sword to Carlos, Adrian stepped up to Rosalind, taking her hands in his own. “What brings you out so early, Miss Blake?” he asked, keeping his voice even despite the feelings erupting inside. It was all he could do to not sweep her into his arms right there.
Rosalind shook her head at the light tone, but the strength with which he gripped her hands betrayed his emotion. “I heard you were fighting someone,” she replied simply. “Was I supposed to wait patiently to find out if you bled to death?”
“That was precisely what you were supposed to do, though I am glad you ignored convention.” He raised one of her hands to his lips, and smiled as he felt her reaction. Then he recalled the matter at hand. “But that still doesn’t explain how you knew to come.” Throwing propriety to the winds, he embraced her. Rosalind was here. What else mattered?
“I received an unsigned letter, telling us about the duel,” Poppy explained. “Though it was obvious who sent it. Mr. de la Guerra advocated for us to pray for you, but I thought a more direct intervention would be better. Though we barely arrived in time to see the end, and it seems we could not have prevented the fight even if we tried.”
“Nevertheless,” Carlos said. “It’s good to see you.”
Poppy frowned at him, but before she could reply, yet another vehicle thundered up the lane, pulling to a stop just behind the hired cab that Poppy had procured.
“Oh, dear,” she said in a resigned tone. “It’s Mr. Blake. We’re all in trouble now.”
Chapter 25
Mr. Blake burst out of the carriage door with the force of a small hurricane. “What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, charging the group standing beneath the vast elm tree. He headed straight for Adrian, who still had Rosalind in his arms.
But before he could shout again, Hynes groaned, catching his attention. “Who is this unfortunate man?” He stared at the man on the ground, with the surgeon hovering over him.
Poppy spoke first, hoping to forestall another disaster. “Please calm down, Uncle Dillon. And how did you even know to come here?”
“Our servants, thank the Lord, are people of conscience. Alice told me. Now, who is this man?”
“His name is Jonathan Hynes. He was the one spreading the false rumors about Rosalind and Lord Norbury. When Lord Norbury discovered he was the source, he challenged Hynes to a duel to defend Rosalind’s honor.”
Mr. Blake wavered, looking at Hynes, then Adrian, then back again.
“Is that true?” He addressed the question to Hynes. “You attempted to destroy my daughter’s reputation?”
Hynes only gasped as the surgeon wound more gauze around his middle. Carlos looked annoyed and strode over to the wounded man. He prodded Hynes with his foot. “Tell the man already.”
“It’s true,” he said sullenly.
“But why?” Mr. Blake was mystified. “Do I even know you? Has our family offended yours in some way?”
“No,” said Hynes. “Just wanted to vex…Norbury.”
“By ruining my daughter? What do you mean by this behavior?”
“He figured out Lord Norbury wished to marry Rosalind,” Poppy clarified. “So Hynes fired up old rumors about Norbury’s reputation to make you leery of him, and then added fresh ones about Rosalind to dash any marriage on the rocks.”
“I still don’t understand,” Mr. Blake said, looking bewildered. “Why would he do this? Hurt so many people?”
“Because he’s a disgusting, pathetic worm,” Carlos said, smiling thinly. “Tell Mr. Blake, Hynes.”
“Yes,” Hynes muttered, glaring at Carlos.
“Yes, what?” Carlos prompted. He twitched his boot meaningfully.
