Lord Sudbury
There was no hope then. She must prepare for the worst.
Chapter 22
Elizabeth did not goto bed. Instead, she kept the curtain open and sat at the escritoire in the dark, watching for the first signs of daylight. As soon as a bright line appeared to mark the horizon, she rose and put on her pelisse and hat and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.
Jane stirred as Elizabeth passed her bed.
“Is it time, Lizzy?”
“Go back to sleep, Jane. There is no need for both of us to attend.”
She was relieved Jane was too sleepy to object. As a Healer, Jane might be useful, but after the debacle of Bingley’s Healing session, she was worried her presence would create controversy. Elizabeth did not want to be barred from watching. She was sure the two combatants would have brought Healers of their own.
She did not know where the duel was taking place, but she guessed it would be outdoors. She went to ask Evans, who told her that Darcy was already outside. The fight was happening in the enclosed garden, at the grassy patch just in front of the fountain.
“A duel is no place for a lady.”
Elizabeth paid no heed to him.
The morning had a sharp Autumn bite to it, the dew glistening on the thorns of the climbing roses like tears. She arrived to find the two duelists already there, with a small crowd assembled, mostly members of the Council. There were Healers, too. Mr. Westwood and Mr. Seacole sat on the ground, waiting to discover when they would be needed.
Darcy was in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, looking dashing as a hero in Byron’s poems, his dark hair framing a face that was glowing in the light of the rising sun. He spotted her as soon as she walked through the arched gate. He touched his fingers to his lips in a gallant gesture. A shiver went through her. Was this his last kiss?
A moment later, the seconds began to read out the rules. Elizabeth did not listen. The rules did not matter to her, not now.
By now, the two combatants had taken up their positions back-to-back. They walked twenty paces then turned to look at each other. Darcy was eying Devereux with the fixed concentration of a warrior. This was a side of him she had never seen. He was all shadows and angles, emanating power, pulsating with the will to succeed. She could see now why he was one of the strongest mages in the Kingdom. Devereux looked more belligerent, but there was a nonchalant arrogance about him that suggested carelessness.
At that moment, if she was a wagering woman, she would have placed her bet on Darcy winning.
Then the signal was given for the duel to commence, and her pulse sprung into motion, beating like a moth trying to escape its prison.
In mere seconds, Darcy had shored up his defenses. Devereux was slower. By the time he had launched his first attack, Darcy was already protected and launching his counterattack— the Crystal spell.
In an instant, Devereux’s head was enclosed in crystals blocking his view.
