She held forth a rosewood tray. Servants were taught not to hand small objects directly to their betters, to avoid the accidental brush of hands—a practice that seemed incredibly trivial in the circumstances.
For some reason, Nathaniel felt the need to reach out and lay his hand on hers. “Thank you, Mrs. Budgeon. For everything.”
She seemed taken aback but did not pull away. “You’re welcome, sir. And we shall all be praying for your brother’s recovery.”
Again he thanked her, carried the paltry collection to Helen, and reclaimed his seat beside Lewis’s sickbed.
He watched as Helen tearfully fingered through the items: a pocket watch, several coins, a length of blue ribbon, and a folded scrap of paper, stained with blood. Eyes wide, Helen handed the note to him. Nathaniel unfolded it and read.
I demand satisfaction, Mr. Upchurch. And I demand it now. Penenden Heath tomorrow at half past seven.
P.
Could it be? If Preston had written it, then had this letter truly been meant for Lewis, or for him? What could Abel Preston have against Lewis? The two men had likely met while both resided in Barbados, but Nathaniel didn’t recall any mention of strife between them. Preston had made no secret of his grudge againsthim, but Nathaniel had never heard him speak a word against Lewis. Nathaniel’s stomach roiled. Had Lewis taken a bullet meant for him?
———
Nathaniel went to look for Lewis’s friend Saxby but could not find him. Nor had any of the servants seen him. So he returned to the library. The vicar arrived and led them in prayer at Lewis’s bedside, beseeching God for his life. Afterward, Nathaniel left his brother for a time in the capable hands of his sister and the chamber nurse.
He asked Hudson to send Lewis’s valet to him in the morning room and paced until the young man knocked at the open door.
“Connor. Come in.”
The young man stepped inside and stood before him, hands behind his back. His face looked pale beneath his red hair, but he held himself erect and met Nathaniel’s gaze directly.
“I want to know what happened,” Nathaniel said. “Everything. Spare no detail or my feelings.”
“Very well, sir.” The young man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was awful....”
Nathaniel braced himself. “Start at the beginning. There was mention of a duel. Had you known of it beforehand?”
“I only learned of it this morning.”
“Had it something to do with the reason Lewis left the ball early last night?”
Connor frowned. “Did he? I didn’t know it, sir. I didn’t see him from the time he dressed for the ball until he returned to his room about three in the morning. He asked me to wake him only a few hours later—at six. You know he was never one to rise early, sir, so that surprised me, but he didn’t tell me why, and neither did I ask.”
No servant would ask. “Go on.”
“When I woke him, he bid me to help him dress and to prepare myself for going out. He also told me to bring his dueling pistols.” Connor swallowed. “I asked if I should wake the coachman and call for a carriage, but he said we would ride. So I roused the groom to saddle two horses.
“I asked if I should pack an overnight case for him, but he said only the pistols in the saddle bag.” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “I confess I was nervous.”
Nathaniel nodded. “Go on.”
“When we neared Penenden Heath, he told me he needed me to act as his second.”
Nathaniel wondered why Lewis had not asked his friend Saxby to act for him. Unless... might Piers Saxby have been the challenger? “Had you acted for him before?”
Connor ducked his head. Duels were illegal, and Nathaniel didn’t blame the young man for not wanting to implicate himself or his master.
Nathaniel said, “Now is not the time to worry about protecting anyone’s honor. Just tell me.”
Connor nodded. “Once before, sir. But neither man was hurt that time. Both were so foxed that neither hit his mark. Though one old ewe did die.”
“And this time?”
“Both men sober as Quakers.”
