Swiftly, he strode across the warm room to pick up the new missive. The lettering was clearly written in haste, and he broke open the Weston seal with a sigh of exasperation. Whatever the coxcomb said now had better not add insult to injury, for he was quite out of patience.
Lord Rotherby,
I write in haste to withdraw my challenge. At the time of issue, I had good reason to believe you’d acted dishonourably, but my sister has since assured me that your attentions were only ever courteous and noble.
In light of this new information, I find myself satisfied there has been no improper conduct, and therefore no impeachment of honour.
I trust this letter will find you in good time, and you will have no objection to considering the matter concluded.
Yours respectfully,
Sir George Weston
Lord Rotherby screwed up the letter with a gleam of contempt.
‘Infernal popinjay!’ he cursed,tossing it onto the fire.
He’d always known Weston disliked him but had never thought him a troublemaker before. Indeed, he was less than persuaded by his reference tonew informationand would have to be vigilant in the future. Not only did they share history, it seemed a few of his close friends thought him entirely capable of seducing a chit scarcely out of the schoolroom too. They hadn't said as much, but he had seen the doubt on their faces, which meant he must accept Weston’s apology lest they think any truth to it.
Rotherby cursed again, his eyelids lowering lazily as he watched the flames dance in the hearth. Perhaps pretty, doe-eyed Sylvia Weston really had intervened on his behalf, or perhaps one of Weston’s bourgeois friends had warned him about Rotherby’s record with a single-shot flintlock. Either way, he was sure his main consideration should be for the fact that his honour was still intact, and there were no unsightly bodies to explain away.
Fortified by the thought that the evening had taken a much more encouraging turn without him having to lift even one murderous finger, Lord Rotherby exhaled. The night was yet young, White’s was always open to its patrons, and he had a taste for drink poured by a fairer hand than his own.
Seconds later, he pulled on his great-coat and headed back out into the hallway, now lit by a lone, flickering candelabra. It was one of Benson’s traditions, left over from the time when his young master might climb out of bed because he couldn't sleep. He smiled faintly before extinguishing the flames.
Tomorrow, he would put his household in order, just in case, but right now he had one thought uppermost and that was to celebrate his reprieve the onlyway a notorious rake knew how.
ChapterTwo
KNIGHTSWOOD MANOR, DEVON
February 1821
‘The trouble with notorious rakes is that they cannotbearanyone else behaving notoriously!’
Sophie smiled primly as she pulled a ringlet free from her golden locks that were dressedà la Sévigné,and paused to inspect the effect.
‘You mean likepigwidgeoned dunderheads?!’ Matilda asked, rolling herself up inside Sophie’s coverlet, roly-poly pudding style.
‘Matilda!’ Sophie scolded as Josephine stuffed another of Cook’s infamous shortbreads into her mouth and tried not to snort.
‘What have I told you about listening to Billy Briggs and the village boys! Thomas will stop your pin money for a month, and you’re already on your best behaviour after the pig-race debacle.’
‘That wasn’t just me!’ Matilda protested.
‘Edward and Henry placed actual bets, and I heard Phoebe say?—’
‘I don’t want to know what Edward and Henry did. Or what Phoebe said!’ Sophie exclaimed.
‘And apigwidgeoned dunderheadisn’t what I meant anyway!’
She returned her attention to her ringlets and a new velvet ribbon.
‘Harriet gave me a coming-out talk,’ she clarified, rolling her eyes, ‘and specifically warned me against notorious rakes, who“behave scandalously, and get away with it” because they’re so charming? She also said the moment anyone tries to 'play them at their game’ they lose interest, because they cannot bear a threat.’
‘Oh! You mean, like a libertine?’ Matilda frowned. ‘What game?’
‘Matilda Fairfax, what on earth do you know aboutlibertines at the grand old age of thirteen!’ Sophie admonished.
