‘About ten minutes ago, miss.’
‘Where? And how quickly can I get there?’
He seemed unperturbed by her desperation and answered with the same calm and measured voice he’d have used if she’d asked him about the weather. ‘As for your method of transportation, I was instructed to order a post-chaise that would take you to your parents’ home later in the day.’ He blinked. ‘It seemed wise to procure it as early as possible, in case later supply exceeded demand. It is waiting outside now.’
She waved her hands, encouraging him to speak faster. ‘Wonderful. And what is the direction?’
‘I am not permitted to say, miss.’
She stared at him, incredulous.
‘I was ordered to tell nothing of today’s location to either you or Her Grace, lest you might decide to interfere,’ he said, blandly. Then, he stared at her, expectantly.
She ran back through his words, wondering what she could say that might persuade him to disobey his master.
Then, it hit her. ‘Banks, where did last year’s duel happen?’
‘Wimbledon Common, miss. Near where they are building the windmill.’
‘Thank you, Banks,’ she said, throwing her arms around him. Then tried to compose herself and added, ‘I should much like to see the progress on that windmill, before I go.’
‘Very good, miss. I shall tell the driver.’ For a moment, he seemed as if he was about to smile. But then, he looked as distant as ever. ‘Your brother left money for your trip this afternoon. He did not want it to be forgotten in the rush of events. Perhaps you should take it now.’ He reached into his pocket and removed a purse and opened it to reveal a thick roll of bills.
‘Thank you, again,’ she said, snatching it from his hand as he opened the door and walked her to the hired carriage. As she sank back into the seat, she could hear him telling the driver to take her to Wimbledon and not to spare the horses.
They took off at a trot, and she grabbed the strap above her, closed her eyes and prayed it was not too late.
Chapter Twenty
It was as good a day as any to die, Sebastian thought, staring across the field to where the sun had just crested the horizon. The first rays were shining through a mist that floated low on the dew-damp grass, and there was a faint breeze touching his face, promising a warm and pleasant morning.
The wind was against him, and the sun in his eyes, just as he wanted it. He would spare his friend no advantage, today. If Septon came to harm, even by accident, it would hurt too many others. There were rumours that, after a year of marriage, Portia was finally with child, and he should hate to see her widowed.
There was Cassie to think of, as well. But when was he ever not thinking of her?
Despite the circumstances, he smiled.
‘Are you ready?’ Alex Landers, his second, touched his arm and gave him a puzzled look. Landers was not so much a friend as an acquaintance with time on his hands who had never seen a duel before.
Sebastian hoped he did not disappoint.
‘I am,’ he said, glancing back to Julian again, then away. It was not as if he had expected his friend to bring Cassandra with him. There was no reason for a lady to witness such a grim spectacle.
Well, one perhaps. After her rough dismissal of him yesterday, he feared that she might come just to gloat. But afterfinishing his letter to her, he had written his banker to dispose of the unentailed part of his estate. When he was gone, she would be a very wealthy woman. If a child resulted from the most wonderful mistake he’d ever made, it could not inherit a title, but he or she would be rich enough not to care.
He smiled again, thinking of the family that might survive him. They might not miss him, but they would live well and be happy.
It was a shame that he might damage Julian’s reputation with this. But he suspected that Septon would rather see him dead than married to his sister. His own rakehell ways were long behind him. Since marrying Portia, he had been an upright member of theton. Society would forgive him, as they had last time he’d duelled, blaming Sebastian for everything that had gone wrong. If it came to a trial, Julian’s friends in Parliament would agree that killing Sebastian was no different than putting down a mad dog: an ugly business that had to be done for the benefit of all.
Landers left him, walking to the centre of the field to meet Julian’s second. Their hushed voices carried on the silent air as if they were only a few feet away. They were examining the weapons. There would be no problem. He had brought them from the apartment, and they’d been cleaned and oiled just a week ago. The powder was dry and fresh from the gunsmith.
He was surprised that he felt no fear as he thought of what was to come, only sadness. He closed his eyes, thinking of Cassie’s kiss and the warmth of her body next to his. It had been good. Better than that, really. As they’d moved against each other, he’d been imagining a lifetime of days and nights. The joy in him had been profound, unlike anything he’d felt.
He wished he could have a little more of that life, another afternoon like yesterday, or maybe a wasted week. If not, it was probably just as well things were ending. He did not wantto muddle along for decades with people pestering him about getting an heir and assuring the succession. He was not going to marry without love, just to satisfy the Crown.
As Landers walked back to him with a pistol, a carriage appeared in the distance, the horses racing towards the open field where they stood. Was someone coming to stop them?
He watched it, numb. But as it came closer, his curiosity grew, turning to dread. It stopped near Septon and his second and a cloaked woman leapt out rushing to the two men. He heard a faint, shrill voice arguing against the two calm male voices.
