JOCELYN THOUGHT THE NIGHTwould never come to an end. But it did, of course, after endless hours of fitful sleep, vivid, bizarre dreams, and long spells of wakefulness. It was strange how different this duel felt from any of the four that had preceded it. Apart from an extra burst of nervous excitement on those other occasions, he could not remember having disturbed nights.
He rose earlier than necessary and wrote a long letter, to be delivered in the event that he did not return. After sealing it and pressing his signet ring into the soft wax, he raised it to his lips and closed his eyes briefly. He had held her once more in his arms. But he had been unable to utter a single word. He had been afraid of coming all to pieces if he had tried. He was not good at such words as had been needed. He had no previous experience.
Strange irony to have found love just when he had this morning to face. And tomorrow morning if he survived today.
Strange to have found love at all when he had not believed in its existence. When he had thought of marriage, even to her, as a trap.
He pulled on the bell rope to summon his valet.
JANE HAD NOT SLEPT. She had tried, but she had lain awake, staring at the shadowed canopy above her head, feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach. In the end it had been easier to get up, dress, and curl up on the windowseat of her bedchamber, alternately cooling a burning cheek against the windowpane and huddling for warmth inside a cashmere shawl.
She should havesaidsomething. Why had she remained silent when there was so much to say? But she knew the answer. There were no words with which to express the deepest emotions of the heart.
What if he should die?
Jane shivered inside the shawl and clamped her teeth hard together to prevent them from chattering.
He had come through four duels with no mortal injury. Surely he could survive two more. But the odds were against him. And Lord Ferdinand, who had been no match for Jane’s determined quizzing during their drive in the park, had revealed not only the place and time of the meeting but also the fact that the Reverend Josiah Forbes, despite his calling, was a cold fish and a deadly shot.
Jane’s thoughts were interrupted by a scratching on her door. She looked at it, startled. It was very early in the morning. The door opened quietly, and her maid looked cautiously around it in the direction of the bed.
“I am here,” Jane said.
“Oh, my lady,” the girl said, peering into the semidarkness, “begging your pardon but there is a lady downstairs insisting on speaking with you. She got Mr. Ivy up out of his bed, she did, and he got me out of mine. She will not take no for an answer.”
Jane was on her feet, her stomach churning, her head spinning.
“Who is she?” she asked. Sheknewwho it must be, but she dared not hope. Besides, it was too late. Surely it was too late.
“Lady Oliver, my lady,” her maid replied.
Jane did not pause to check her appearance. She dashed from the room and down the stairs with unladylike haste.
Lady Oliver was pacing the hallway. She looked upward when Jane came into sight and hurried toward the foot of the staircase. In the early dawn light, which was augmented by one branch of candles, Jane could see her agitation.
“Where are they?” she demanded. “Where are they to meet? Do you know? And when?”
“Hyde Park,” Jane said. “At six.”
“Wherein Hyde Park?”
Jane could only guess that it would be the same place as before. But how could she explain exactly where that was? Hyde Park was a very large place. She shook her head.
“Why?” she demanded. “Are you going there?”
“Yes,” Lady Oliver answered. “Oh, quick, quick. Tell me where.”
“I cannot,” Jane said. “But I can show you. Do you have a carriage?”
“Outside the door.” Lady Oliver pointed. “Show me, then. Oh, quick. Run for a cloak and bonnet.”
“There is not time,” Jane said, hurrying past her visitor, grabbing her sleeve as she did so. “It must be well after five already. Come!”
Lady Oliver needed no urging. Within a minute they were seated in her carriage and on their way to Hyde Park.
“If he should die…” Lady Oliver dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief.
He could not die. He could not. There was too much living to be done. Oh, he could not die.
