“Rowena is not your property, nor mine. She has made her choice. We will take our leave now,” Christopher said as if declaring it made it a possibility. “And you had best let us pass. You must have an understanding just how much trouble you are in right now. Kidnapping? Even you misunderstand just how bad a thing you’ve done. However, if you let us go then all may yet be well.”
“And Sabrine. We will take Sabrine as well. If you allow us a safe egress, perhaps you will not have charges levied against you,” Rowena said.
To Christopher’s horror, the Duke broke into a deranged laughter and then waved at the burly man.
“Williams, take the lot of them into your keeping. His Grace will remain with us until after Lady Rowena sees that she has lost her way and decided to follow on the righteous path again.”
“I will never,” she vowed even though the tall man had just grabbed ahold of her and was about to hand her over to the footman, Hector.
Thornmouth shook his head, “My dearest. All you need is a little bit of time. A couple of days spent with me and you will see that your Father’s intentions were right all along. We are perfect for one another and I will make you see it. Believe me.”
The sincerity with which he spoke chilled Christopher. This was a man convinced he was right. It was not simply his desire to maintain his position, but he genuinely believed that Rowena was the right woman for him, no matter how much she might protest. He had made up his mind and he would make it so.
“Williams, apprehend His Grace.”
The large man stepped toward Christopher who stared him down.
“You had best think twice, Williams. I am a Peer of the Realm and laying a hand upon me will have quite different circumstances that laying a hand upon a mere woman.”
This slowed the man down as hesitation appeared on his face. He looked at Thornmouth, his face a question.
Taking the opportunity, Christopher turned to Thornmouth.
“I see you must employ the use of your servants to apprehend your rival. What is the matter, do you not have it in you to apprehend me yourself? You claim to be a man, yet you cannot or rather, dare not, take me on yourself? What a man Lady Rowena is to wed, what a man indeed,” he made sure his tone was a mocking as possible.
He glanced at Rowena, hoping she had realized that he was attempting to bait Thornmouth into a one-on-one fight. Thornmouth, he could take. Perhaps if he managed to knock him out the servants would let them go. It was their best chance, but he needed Rowena’s help.
To his great relief, he received it.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” she said her voice almost sorrowful. “It does fill me with sadness to see you are a man of words, and not actions. For a man who fought so bravely at Waterloo, you now have to rely upon servants.” She shook her head and sighed before speaking again. “I suppose it matters little. However long you apprehend Christopher, I will always love him. I will never willingly wed you. And even if you force me, he will always be the one who has my heart.”
Her words touched his heart and evidently pierced Thornmouth’s at the same time. She watched as his face fell.
He shook his head, his eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine sadness.
“It pains me you feel this way,” he said and walked out of the room, leaving the rest of them to stand on the steps without knowing what to do. However, he did not remain gone for long.
And when he returned, Christopher’s eyes widened. For their plan had worked. Indeed, it had worked a little too well.
For in his hands, the Duke held two sabers. He extended one toward Christopher, who took it hesitantly.
“We will settle this matter. Once and for all. To the death!”
Christopher stared at him for a moment.
A duel? He could not believe his ears. Dueling had rapidly fallen out of favor in their society, and certainly dueling to the death. He could not believe Thornmouth was serious. Alas, there they were. Each holding a saber in their hand.
Fencing? Of all things. I never excelled in this sport.
Indeed, he’d been so terrible at fencing, his father had given up giving him lessons and diverted his attention to the horses instead.
“No, please, I beg you!” Rowena called out.
Thornmouth looked up at her. “Yes, we must. You have made it clear. As long as the Duke of Westmond draws breath, you will love him. Therefore, he must breathe no more.”
With that, Thornmouth took a swing at Christopher. He blocked the attack, clutching the saber with both hands, knowing that was a mistake.
He staggered, trying to hit Thornmouth, but failed. Mortified, he had to retreat a few steps, much to the amusement of his opponent.
