“Wingate is right, Merry,” Jasper declared. “This is no place for a lady. ’Tis men’s business. You must go home immediately.”
“I will leave only if you and Jason accompany me,” Lady Meredith retorted, planting her feet firmly in the grass.
“Meredith, please.” Jason strode toward his sister.
Her chin rose. Trevor felt a jolt of sympathy for Jason, knowing there would be little chance the man would succeed in getting his sister to do his bidding.
The marquess slowly lowered his right arm. He could feel the tension lock along his shoulder; the strain of keeping his arm raised was too much. He noticed Jasper doing the same, a silent acknowledgement there would be no duel this morning.
After shrugging into his waistcoat and coat, Jasper joined his twin at Meredith’s side. The men stood close together, their bodies shielding her from the questioning eyes of the crowd. Unfortunately they could do nothing to modulate the volume of her voice. Her words rang out loud and clear for all to hear.
“I told you repeatedly that the marquess offered me no insult, but you would not listen. If you felt it necessary to defend my honor, could you not have settled upon a less lethal manner?” Lady Meredith asked. “You boast constantly of your sparring skills, honed to near perfection at Jackson’s boxing salon. Would not landing a blow to the marquess’s jaw or nose have appeased your inflated sense of honor?”
“What? Are you suggesting I should have planted a facer on him in the middle of White’s?”
“That is certainly preferable to a bullet through the heart.” Meredith hmmphed. “Of course, little damage would have been sustained if the shot struck you in the head. There is naught between your ears but a lot of empty space, Jasper.”
Trevor smiled inwardly. Though he suspected he might make this volatile situation even worse, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “Perhaps this discussion would best be continued in private,” he suggested, coming forward until he was standing almost toe to toe with Lady Meredith.
Meredith jerked her head around and gave him a glare that could wilt a hothouse rose on a winter’s day. “Your opinion is not required, my lord. This is a family matter. It is most inappropriate for you to interfere.”
“You are hardly one to be speaking of propriety,” Trevor said. “It might amaze you to know this, Lady Meredith, but there do exist women who know their proper place in the world. Women who know how to be submissive and obedient.”
“I shall say a prayer for these unfortunate souls in church next Sunday,” she retorted, before turning her back on him in an obviously dismissive gesture. “If you will kindly excuse us, I shall escort my brothers home before any other idiotic male ideas for preserving our family honor are presented.”
“ ’Tis not completely our fault,” Jasper sulked as he trailed languidly behind his sister. “Dardington gave you an opportunity to end this without bloodshed, yet you refused him.”
Meredith stopped walking. A wary look passed through her eyes. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Have you forgotten our conversation yesterday afternoon already, Lady Meredith?” Trevor closed the distance between them and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I am crushed.”
Her head swung around. “He told you?” she asked her brothers. “About yesterday?”
“Yes,” Jasper replied.
She turned completely around and faced the marquess. For an instant her face looked naked and vulnerable, her eyes haunted with doubt and confusion. “Why?”
“They wanted to know what my opinion of you was, so I enlightened them,” Trevor replied. “I saw no harm.”
“You are speaking in riddles, Dardington,” Julian Wingate interjected. He had come, unnoticed, to stand beside them all and apparently eavesdrop on their conversation.
Trevor ignored Wingate. The marquess had not taken his eyes off Meredith. She stood very still and very straight, her hands clasped against her cloak. He wished he had some idea of what she was thinking, but her expression gave no indication of her inner emotions. Trevor wisely kept his mouth shut and waited.
“If you must know, the marquess is referring to the proposal of marriage he made to me yesterday afternoon.” Lady Meredith waved one careless hand. “Not that it is any of your business whom I marry, Mr. Wingate.”
“Devil take it,” Wingate said, scratching the side of his head. “If you are going to marry Dardington, why are your brothers dueling with the man?”
“Why indeed?” Meredith gave an irate sniff and pointed her nose in the air. “It is, I grant you, a most peculiar way to welcome someone into the family. But surely you must have heard that we Barringtons are an eccentric, unconventional lot.”
The twins turned and looked at the marquess with identical expressions of shock and incomprehension on their faces. Trevor imagined his own face contained the exact reaction.
For it appeared Lady Meredith had just announced, in a most forthright manner, that she was going to marry him. Fancy that!
It was a most unusual wedding, considering the stature and rank of the bride and groom. A hastily contrived service, taking place in the bride’s home, with only her brothers and a handful of loyal servants as witnesses. There was no one in attendance on behalf of the groom.
The special license had been obtained by the bride’s brothers, who had a rather busy day by any gentleman’s standards: a near duel in the morning; rushed, secretive wedding preparations until noon; and a private late afternoon nuptial ceremony for their only sister.
As Meredith watched her two brothers share a toast of fine French champagne with her new husband, she told herself she had made the only decision possible. Marrying the marquess would keep the twins safe from duels defending her honor. Accomplishing that task alone justified the sacrifice she had made.
