“I know I can rely only upon a man of your stature and importance to assist me in this most delicate matter.” Though her stomach was churning with emotion, she managed to gave him a wavy smile. “Will you help me, sir?”
The valet’s expression never faltered. In desperation, Meredith began pulling out the bag of coins from her pocket, but before she could offer them the servant spoke.
“I suspect if you drove to a large clearing on the south edge of Hyde Park, my lady, you would find something of keen interest.”
Meredith sagged forward. “I am forever in your debt,” she whispered emotionally.
The valet inclined his head and exited the coach. The moment he stepped down, Meredith gave the coachman their destination and the carriage raced off.
The first streaks of dawn were beginning to light the distant horizon. Meredith remained glued to the window of the carriage, watching with mounting concern as the deep gray of night gave way to a lighter hue. Then shafts of pale yellow, red, and blue began to emerge.
On any other day, she would have enjoyed watching the brilliant colors of the morning begin to light the sky. But today the coming dawn meant she was running out of precious time.
They could be mortally wounded. It was far too easy to imagine one of them with a gaping black bullet hole in his chest, lying in the grass, still and silent as his life’s blood stained the ground a shocking crimson red.
It could be any of them. Jasper. Or Jason. Or Trevor. Meredith closed her eyes and shuddered, then firmly repressed the pain she felt.
At long last they reached the park. As they rounded the corner, Meredith craned her neck out of the window, desperate for a better view. Her eyes darted across the horizon, as swirls of fog and mist obstructed her sight.
“There!” she shouted. “On the edge of that secluded stretch of lawn. Do you see them?”
“Aye, my lady,” the coachman grunted. “Hold fast.”
Meredith gripped the edge of the seat as the coach lurched awkwardly to one side. Pulling herself up, she straightened and looked out the window. Hope stirred within her breast. There was a group of men milling about on the crest of the hill. All were standing upright—for the moment.
“Let me out here,” she called, fearing it would take too long for the cumbersome vehicle to gain the top of the knoll.
Gradually the carriage began to slow. Giving no thought to her own safety, Meredith leaped from the still moving vehicle, landing upon the soggy grass with a loud thud. The moment her feet touched the earth, she picked her skirts up above her ankles and broke into a run.
Eight
Trevor Morely, Marquess of Dardington, was in good spirits as he stood on the damp grass in Hyde Park. The dawn was just beginning to appear on this cool, slightly wet morning and the brilliant colors of the day reminded him of his favorite painting, a pastoral landscape done by a unknown artist more than a century ago.
There were ten other gentlemen convened with the marquess on the grassy knoll. Most were conversing in quiet, civilized tones—except for the two youngest men, who were engaged in a serious and often times ear-splitting discourse over which of them would be granted the privilege of defending their sister’s honor.
“I am the elder. It falls to me to preserve the family position and reputation.”
“Yes, you are the elder, Jasper. And the heir. Therefore it should be I who risks his life. My death would have a small impact upon the family.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Meredith would never forgive me if anything happened to you. Besides, I have no intention of getting killed or wounded—yet another reason why I should be the one to fight. You shall be my second, Jason.”
Jason responded with a jeering noise. “I put forth the challenge to Dardington.”
“You did not!”
“I did so!”
Jasper paused for a moment and flexed his fingers. “Even if that were true, it makes no difference. I have decided I will be the duelist.”
“You have decided! ’Tis not your decision to make.”
The bickering between the two brothers continued at an even higher volume. In the gray half light and swirling mist, Trevor had difficulty telling the twins apart, yet it was clear each was filled with passion over the rightness of their cause.
“Perhaps it would be best to let the two of them duel with each other first,” Julian Wingate observed. “Then you could challenge the winner. I fear we shall miss breakfast and luncheon if we wait for these two young pups to make a decision.”
“I am in no great rush.” Trevor took a step back and frowned at Wingate. He was not certain how the man came to be a member of the party, for he had not invited him along. Yet as Trevor took a closer look at the throng of interested male spectators, he realized that aside from Viscount Aarons, who was acting as his second, he knew only one other gentleman in attendance.
“If it were me, I’d prefer to face the younger brother, Jason,” Wingate added. “He is rumored to be a keen shot, but his emotions are clearly riding high. With a steady arm and careful aim, you could hit him the moment the signal is given to fire.”
