She lowered herself onto the chair carefully, her gaze never much wavering from the missive. And then…
An itch.
But before she could scratch it, a sneeze took hold of her. “Achoo!” She shattered the silence and extinguished one of the candles at the same time.
It also, fortuitously enough, swept the missive off the desk and onto the floor.
As though fate would guide her, it had come unfolded and lay wide open for anyone to read.
Leaning forward, she squinted her eyes.
I arrived in London early. No doubt you know what I want. I’ll meet you at dawn. Near the folly in the park by the southeast bank.
Westerley.
She picked the paper off the floor and for all of a minute stared at the words. She knew where the folly was located. Despite duels being outlawed, the location was well known as a place where gentlemen resolved their grievances.
Without making a conscious decision, her feet were rushing her back to her chamber where she silently changed out of her night rail and then pulled the nearest day dress over her head. Without stays to cinch her figure beneath it, she barely managed to secure a few of the buttons but there wasn’t time to wake Polly.
Sweating and out of breath from her efforts, Bethany was on the verge of tears. Because each second wasted attempting to slide another button through its respective hole was potentially keeping her from preventing a reckless, senseless, idiotic, positively stupid duel! Imagining Chase’s body lifeless and bloody in the grass and somewhat certain the dress would contain her properly, she located an old gray cloak and then added a large floppy bonnet for good measure.
Her fingers fumbled, shaking, as she tied off the laces on her half-boots, all too aware of the light beginning to creep through the window.
Finally! She ran down the stairs, struggled to unlock the front door, and then all but threw herself outside onto the pavement.
Don’t be dead. Please. Don’t be dead. She chanted the words to herself as her feet pounded along the pavement. What if they changed the location? What if they refused to listen to her?
What if she was late? She pushed herself to run faster. She didn’t care that her lungs were about to burst or that a painful cramp had her clutching at her side. She needed to stop those two foolish, pigheaded, arrogant, cocksure… ridiculously overprotective but lovable blockheads.
Voices floated to her through the trees, and she intensified her pace.
“Gentlemen, take your places.” A familiar commanding voice rang out above the others, followed by a hushed silence. Deuced Blackheart! Bethany squinted until she located the small clearing where she caught sight of two brown-haired individuals, one lighter than the other.
“One, two, three…”
With a great force squeezing her heart, she pushed herself through the bushes and sprinted with all her might in the direction of the two pretentious, posturing, pigheaded peacocks!
They would do this because of a single compromising incident—one tiny little spanking. Well, three, actually.
But as she neared, she realized that in truth, it wasn’t about her at all. It was about their absurd notions of honor and courage and other nonsensical masculine ideals.
How could the two men she loved most in this world think that the outcome of this contest wouldn’t haunt her forever?
Images flashed through her mind. Images from her childhood, with her brother—teasing her, helping her with her studies, speaking his vows at his wedding.
And with Chase; the day she first saw him, the moment he arrived at the church, and a million others in between. She nearly stumbled when her brain chose that moment to recall how his eyes had looked when he’d stared down at her in the bed of clover.
“Eight, nine, ten…”
“Nooooo!” she screamed at the top of her lungs in the moment before she reached Chase.
His head turned with a jerk and then his eyes widened in horror when the explosive sound of a gunshot echoed through the park.
Chapter 32
Stop the Bleeding
“Bethany!” Chase’s voice sounded gruff. Demanding. Frantic. “She’s been hit!”
