Alex shrugged. “Jonathan wants to enter the army soon, so I daresay a fight or two over his sister’s good name won’t hurt him. Good practice, in fact. As for Annabelle”—he glanced over at her white face—“if she chooses to have her name on every loose lip in London, I’ll not stand in her way.”
Sir Edward was reeling from the succession of shocks he had received. “I don’t believe that a man can be as blind to his honor as you claim to be!” he said hoarsely.
“Oh, I am not wholly indifferent,” Alex said cheerfully. “All things being equal, I would just as soon no word of this little escapade got out. So if you maintain a gentlemanly silence, I shall reward you.”
Sir Edward straightened up hopefully. Perhaps there would be some good from the situation after all.
“Yes,” Alex continued. “I shall let you keep your miserable hide intact.”
As Sir Edward blanched, Annabelle warned, “He’s fought at least one duel, Alex!”
“Splendid! I prefer not to kill a defenseless man. I trust that you don’t mind if I choose to use my cutlass, Sir Edward. I am the injured party so the choice of weapons is mine. The cutlass is a crude weapon next to a small sword, but excellent for hacking and chopping.”
Sir Edward turned white. His one lesson in swordsmanship had ended when he found the sound of scraping blades unbearable.
Alex regarded him thoughtfully. “If you wish, we could make do with pistols, but I should think you wouldn’t like that as well. Rather than trying for a head shot and running a small risk of your escaping unscathed, I would have to aim for the torso. And as I’m sure you are aware, it takes a man such a long time to die of a bullet in the belly.”
“I won’t fight you!” Sir Edward gasped.
“You won’t?” Alex said in a silky voice. “What a pity. For most assuredly I will fight you, whether you defend yourself or not. The world being the unfair place it is, I have no doubt that the justice system will cause me no inconvenience.”
Sir Edward gaped at his lordship, unable to believe that a peer of the realm could be such a cynical barbarian. The baronet’s stomach was churning, and his ample supper threatened to return by the same route it had entered.
Vastly amused by the proceedings, Christa chirped up helpfully, “If you would like to settle it now, Lord Kingsley, I brought your pistols in with me.”
Alex looked at her and they shared a mirth-filled glance before he returned to the business at hand. His voice softening, he asked, “Will you come with me, Belle?”
His sister nodded and rose, her body shaking from the effects of too many shocks. The last days had been hellishly difficult, and now she found that her lover was a scoundrel and a craven whose clay feet went all the way to his ears.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” she said in a trembling voice. “You were interested only in money. Everything you said about loving me and admiring me—it was all lies, wasn’t it?”
Slumped on the settle, Sir Edward refused to meet her eyes.
“Damn you, look at me!”
The baronet glanced up, unable to believe that Annabelle the Docile could say such a thing, and in such a tone of voice. Her white face was rigid, but the blue eyes burned with pain and humiliation.
Annabelle stared down into the handsome, weak face and felt sickened that she had believed—and kissed—those lying lips. With one spontaneous gesture she lifted the bowl of trifle from the table and upended it on his face. As she stalked to the door, determined to shed no more tears in the man’s presence, the silence was broken by the sound of Christa applauding. “Oh,très bien, Miss Annabelle! Very well done, indeed!”
Lord Kingsley picked up his sister’s cloak and draped it around her shoulders. With one last glance at Sir Edward, who sat in stupefaction while custard and raspberries soaked into his Brutus-cut hair and embroidered waistcoat, Alex said cheerfully, “See what I saved you from, Eddie? She’s a proper tartar when she’s angry. Come on, Belle. I think your former fiancé is about to flash his hash.”
Eddie!The insult nearly unhinged Sir Edward entirely. He glared at his lordship’s broad shoulders as the door closed, his chest heaving with furious gulps of air. Someday, some way, he seethed, he would find a way to get even with Viscount Kingsley!
* * *
Alex led Annabelle out into the passage. “Do you have any luggage upstairs?” When she nodded, he gestured to Christa. “Bring it down. Come on, Belle. We’re going home.”
It took Christa only a moment to retrieve the bandbox and join the Kingsleys outside the stable. Alex placed Annabelle in the middle of the seat so she would be secure between him and Christa. Since his sister’s flash of anger had burned out, she seemed to be in shock. Christa put a comforting arm around the girl as Alex swung the carriage into the road and south.
After a few minutes he said to Christa, “I’m inclined to change horses at the next post house and go all the way back to London tonight. Can you and Belle manage?”
Christa glanced at the bent blond head between them. Her numb mistress appeared indifferent to what was going on around her. “We are all tired, but if we can get fresh horses, it will be better to go all the way to London. If we return tonight, no one will know we were gone.”
Alex nodded and whipped the horses up. It was a long, chilly ride back, and as they pulled into the mews in St. James’s Square, the church bells were striking four times. Alex turned the horses over to a sleepy and taciturn groom, then accompanied the girls upstairs. Annabelle was still moving like a sleepwalker, and he thought that the full shock wouldn’t hit her until later.
In front of his sister’s room Alex looked down into Christa’s gray eyes, as tired as his own but still clear and holding a trace of humor. “I owe you a great deal, Christa. If you hadn’t discovered the elopement so quickly, Belle would have been tied to that scoundrel for life.”
Her smile had a trace of impishness. “It seems to me that you handled matters with greatsavoir faire. You have a considerable talent for foiling elopements.”
