“No. It’s symbolic. The threat is very real, but the men choose to be civilized about it. Duels aren’t legal, that is why we must be careful, and the men won’t aim to do any real harm. Murder is still murder in a duel.”
Felicity closed her eyes as her fear mixed with nausea from the bouncing curricle. She straightened and focused on Tristan’s back. He wore a heavy, triple-caped cloak but was easily discernible from Lord Alston’s taller stature.
They drew closer to the park, the trees covering the path with shade as they veered off the main road and into a more secluded area. Up ahead, through the trees, Felicity could see a small tent.
“What do you suppose that is?”
“A viewing tent would be my guess,” Lady Amelia said. They came upon a crowded affair with tied horses and gigs, phaetons and carriages. Spectators filled a section of chairs, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon was sitting under the canopy, sipping her tea in her customary all black.
Lady Amelia parked the curricle away from the grouping of horses, where her brother and Tristan couldn’t see them. Mr. Blakewood helped them descend, and they cautiously approached the makeshift arena. The whole situation made Felicity sick, but this? The levity? It brought her disgust to a whole new level. She’d been told repeatedly how unlikely it was that either man was to be hurt, but something inher gut felt wrong.
“Keep your head down,” Lady Amelia warned. “We don’t want to be recognized yet.”
But as the only women present besides Mrs. Dove-Lyon, they stood out. Felicity tilted her head down and watched as Tristan removed his cloak and greeted Mrs. Dove-Lyon. He seemed resigned, at least. Points in his favor for not enjoying this farce.
“What do I do to stop this?” Felicity asked.
“I didn’t bring you here to help stop it,” Lady Amelia said. “We’re here for moral support. If you were at home, you’d be climbing the walls with panic, and I would be doing the same if I were in your place.”
“Mr. Blakewood would never participate in this,” Felicity stated.
He gave her a glance that said otherwise.
“Am I the only one who sees how ridiculous this whole matter is?”
Lady Amelia moved close to her. “After all he did to you—the pain, the loss of your dignity and family—what if it could all be wiped away like this?”
“What?” Felicity said in confusion.
“You’d take a pistol, march twenty paces, turn, and fire into the air, and,”—she snapped her fingers—“all of it undone. Your reputation restored.”
“Somehow I don’t think it would work quite like that for a woman in my position.”
“No. The marriage will fix that. But think how good it will feel, to confront him as his opponent, not his victim.”
A chill washed through her. Felicity looked away from Lady Amelia, her heart stopping as she saw her father speaking with Lord Alston. The earth could have fallen away from her feet, leaving her levitating in pure shock.
She was moving before she realized what she was doing, taking off her glove, weaving through the crowd of intrigued gentlemen whoonly noticed her once she passed. Tristan sensed her approach, turning toward her with surprise and then anger, but she had her sights set on one man only.
Chadwick turned, noticing the others’ distraction. His eyes widened for a second as she approached then he smirked.
“Came to—”
Slap!
The sound of her leather glove, dainty and soft, striking his cheek like a whip echoed through the air. He stumbled back, cupping his cheek. Their audience hooted with glee. He checked his hand as if his cheek might be bleeding. She wished it were, but it was only red. She threw her glove on the ground.
“I challenge you to a duel, you spineless, disgusting, rotted swine carcass.”
“Daughter, you will heed my—” Her father cut off as she stabbed her finger at him.
“I am not your daughter. You lost that privilege when you failed to protect me from him.” She swung back to Chadwick, and he stepped back, like she might curse him with that same finger.
“Ah, what a delightful turn of events,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “I love it when a woman discovers the predator beneath her skin.”
Tristan stepped to her side. “Flick, I didn’t want you to see this happen.”
Felicity ignored him and tugged at the ribbon of her cloak.
