They stood back to back, Rawden recoiling at the touch of the other man’s shoulder blades through his shirt. The sun was burning off the frost, warming his face, the trees alive with a chorus of birdsong, the smell of grass sweet in his nostrils. Every sense was heightened as if he had never noticed those things before. It had always been like this. At the edge of death, life rushed in with all its beauty.
Rawden’s heart seemed to beat right out of his throat, and for a moment, he recognised that he was truly, sublimely happy. His love for Grace surged in his breast and almost overcame him in a wave of longing and hope. It was a good day to die for a cause he believed in. Suddenly, he was fuelled by reckless excitement and a steely resolve. Only death would stop him from returning to Grace and the life he was building for the two of them.
‘Walk ten paces, turn to face each other and await my signal.’ Hardy’s shout crashed into the quiet dawn.
Rawden counted out the paces and turned to face Caville Sharp. He held out his pistol in a steady hand, ears straining for Hardy’s command.
A crack rent the air, setting a high-pitched ringing in his ears, and beyond it, muffled shouts. Then a burn hit him, driving into his shoulder like someone was forcing a red-hot poker into his body. A hot, wet sensation flooded his senses, and he looked down to see his hand covered in blood.
Rawden staggered backwards. He blinked hard to clear the fog that seemed to have descended over his eyes and prayed he would not pass out. His vision cleared enough for him to see Caville Sharp, arm outstretched and a puff of smoke hanging in the air around his pistol. It took a few seconds for Rawden to understand that his opponent had fired before the signal, the cheating bastard.
Outrage kept him upright. He held out a hand to Hardy, who was rushing towards him. ‘Stay back. I must take my shot,’ he snarled through teeth gritted with pain.
Hardy froze, and Rawden extended his arm once more. His pistol was like a lump of lead, suddenly much too heavy for his arm. He managed to point it at Sharp's chest. He was light-headed. He did not have much time.
Rawden took a deep breath. It was ragged, everything ringing, his senses foggy. He could not think straight. Sharp stared into his eyes, his face frozen, mouth pulled back from his teeth in a grimace of absolute terror. A dark stain began to spread from his groin and down his breeches. The man began to sob.
‘Please, no,’ he cried.
‘Curse you to hell,’ snarled Rawden as he pulled the trigger. A high-pitched scream ripped into the morning. Leaves fluttered to the ground around Rawden, brushing his face, but he barely felt them. He was cold, and everything started to feel unreal – the grass and trees turning grey.
‘Why did you not shoot him, Rawden?’ came Hardy’s voice, wrenching him back to consciousness. ‘The coward is running.’
Sharp was becoming a steadily shrinking white blur, his shirt billowing in the breeze as he ran for his life across the fields. A grip like iron held Rawden up. ‘Why did you shoot into the air? Sharp cheated. He fired before my signal. Routledge was a witness, and now Sharp will get away.’
The pain was becoming unbearable, making it hard to speak. ‘And all the ton will hear of it, Hardy,’ said Rawden. ‘Hopefully, the rat will keep running all the way out of London and England until he finds a hole to hide in. His kind always do.’
‘Do not speak so, I beg you. The man is still my friend,’ said Routledge.
‘You diminish yourself with such a connection, Routledge,’ barked Hardy at the man’s misplaced loyalty. ‘Honour has not been satisfied, and you will bear witness to the fact, or you will face me in this very same field. Have I been heard?’
‘Yes. Very well,’ said Routledge. ‘We must get you to a physician, Voss. My God, there is so much blood.’ He gagged and turned away.
Hardy shouted at his back. ‘Make yourself useful and get the horses, you fool. Make haste.’
All the shouting was so tiresome. Hardy’s voice began to slip away. ‘Do not be afeared, my friend. We will get you to a physician and patch you up, good as new.’
‘I am not afraid of dying. But I fear what Grace will do when she finds out I have been duelling.'
‘Indeed, and I am damned along with you. We must leave the country with Sharp, eh?’ Hardy’s smile was strained.
‘That is a good plan,’ said Rawden, but his words seemed to come from someone else’s mouth. He wanted so very badly to sleep. If he just closed his eyes, maybe he could rest. The world receded, and his last thought was a vision of Grace, her fiery hair loose and filled with sunlight. She was warm, so very warm, and he was suddenly as cold as the grave.
Epilogue
Grace’s sturdy old mare trotted across the fields, snuggled under a soft blanket of white from winter’s first snowfall. The landscape was utterly beautiful, lit with a golden light from the sun, crisp against a pale sky. She stopped just before Oak Parl House and stared back. Her horse’s hooves had left dark track marks through the pure white. What a long way she had travelled these last months, in so many ways.
She hurried to the entrance, handed off her horse and hurried inside. It was the first time she had managed to ride alone, and, apart from some frozen fingers, she felt very pleased with herself, until she opened her bedroom door. The complaining began as soon as she entered.
‘Grace, that damned physician was here, telling me what to do. Pompous old fool. I am not an infant or in my dotage to be so confined. Where in God’s name have you been?’ said Rawden. He was lounging on the bed, his arm in a sling. His fringe was too long, flopping in his eyes, and he scraped it back impatiently. Even in a foul temper, he was still heart-meltingly handsome. It would be warm under the coverlet, pressed to the heat of his body. How he would flinch when she put her cold hands on him. Serve him right, too, for being grumpy and impatient.
‘Well? Am I to get an answer?’ he barked.
Grace suppressed a smirk. It was cruel of her to bait Rawden, but she could not help herself. She held her arms out, showing off her riding habit. ‘Can you not guess, or did that shot addle your brains as well as your shoulder?’
His eyes flashed with anger, and something heated. ‘So, you have been for yet another ride. I said I would come with you, so why did you not wake me?’
Grace sauntered over to Rawden and planted a kiss on his forehead. ‘Because you might have fallen and hurt yourself. Doctor Armitage says you must let the muscle heal before undertaking vigorous activities.’
