The duellist’s faces were stony, their bodies tense, and their arms rigid with concentration. A hundred different scenarios jettisoned through Phoebe’s head yet there was no time to think; it was all her fault, and somehow she had to stop them.
‘Wait! Please wait!’ she yelled, swinging her leg over her mare’s sweaty back and dropping to the ground as they reached the crest of the lawn.
Then she was aware of the captain looking up, the ground flying beneath her, and of the viscount, cursing profanely, as he threw his blade down.
Before a bruising impact, a strained shout, and everything went black.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
One week, six days, and a few home truths until the wedding
‘Of all the courageous,hare-brained simpletons!’ the viscount thundered.
His voice was disembodied, somewhere just out of sight.
‘Elliot, send for Dr Kapoor now!’
‘This is your fault entirely!’ the captain accused. ‘She was simply trying to break us up…’
‘Alexander! What on earth are you doing here?’ Aurelia gasped. ‘I have never had such an awful ride in my life, this mare is pigeon-livered! The race wasn’t fair from the start…’
‘Race? What race?’
‘What have you done to my sister, sir, and where is the rest of her riding attire?’ Thomas fumed. ‘The Earl of Cumberland will have something to say to this…’
‘The Earl of Cumberland is a gobble-cock and is welcome to call me out if he so wishes!’ the viscount fired.
‘There is no need to inform the earl, Thomas,’ Fred reasoned. ‘Let’s get Phoebe home and hush up this whole damned affair.’
‘No one is going anywhere, least of all Phoebe!’ the viscount countered. ‘And is that one of my greys?’
‘Well, there’s no need to shout about it,’ Aurelia objected, mulishly. ‘I’m sure we can all hear you very well. And whyareyouhere, Alexander? Elliot?’
Phoebe inched her eyes open to find a scene of such huge comical proportions that a bubble of laughter escaped her, despite the throb at the back of her head.
‘It’s not funny!’ Aurelia hissed. You’re the cause of so much trouble, Phoebe Fairfax, just like your father before you…’
‘Enough!’ the viscount roared, and to Phoebe’s utter shock, Aurelia fell silent.
Phoebe blinked, trying to stop the world from spinning, and found herself in a somewhat curious position. Her head was cushioned by the viscount’s shirt, the captain was chafing her hand, and the remainder of the small crowd were gathered around her with faces worthy of a state funeral.
Another bubble of laughter threatened.
‘Is my sister injured?’ Thomas demanded, peering closer, with all the concern of a banker watching his investment wobble.
Phoebe fought to sit up, unsure if it was the blow to her head, or the viscount’s golden chest against which she rested that was making her feel faint.
‘I assure you, I am perfectly well,’ she managed, relieved to discover that despite a volcanic headache she was still, somehow, in one piece.
‘That’s more luck than judgement, you little fool!’ the viscount returned roughly. ‘What have I told you about getting involved with duels?’
Then he was kneeling beside her, and gazing with such tenderness, that for a moment she was entirely bereft of words. She’d spent so long convincing herself that the viscount was an arrogant rake of the first order, that his only interest was in vexing a girl who seemed to attract drama and trouble wherever she went, that she’d been blind to everything.
Yet it was right there in his jewelled eyes, a glint that was both fear and care, and something else, too; something that had been there from the very first night in the library.
The oddest sensation slid down Phoebe’s spine, just as the captain’s broad hand covered her own.
‘We’re still leaving the moment Dr Kapoor has seen her.’
