Wickham raised both of his hands. “All right, all right, I went too far. I see that now. It was a mistake. I shall never do it again. Please.”
“You will not comenearmy sister or my wife or any woman that Ilookat,” I said.
“No,” he said. “No, I shan’t. Of course not.”
“You will notspeakof the women in my life, either. You will cease calling my sister ‘proud’—”
“I never said that!”
“You did,” I said. “Do not deny it. You will not speak of my wife, of Mrs. Darcy. Her name will not fall from your lips, you worm.”
“I suppose she doesn’t have some odd thing on her,” he muttered.
I glared at him.
He sighed. “I shall not speak of your wife.”
“And you will stop telling people I cheated you out of that rectory position,” I said.
He flinched. “Oh, I did not say that exactly, truly, what I said was—”
“You will cease talking about me entirely,” I said. “I am no calling card into society for you. I wish nothing to do with you.”
Wickham swallowed. “Yes, all right, I see.”
“And wewillshoot you next time,” said Richard with a wide smile. “So, have a care there is no next time, Mr. Wickham.”
Wickham swallowed again. “Yes, yes, of course. I shall do exactly that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“So, will you take it back now?” I said to Richard as we dismounted, back in the stables at my house in town. We had ridden through the night. It was now quite late or quite early, depending on your perspective of it, the darkest and coldest part of the night, the early morning, before the dawn.
“Take what back?” he said. The servants were abed, and we took the saddles and bridles off the horses ourselves.
My fingers worked at the buckles, and I concentrated on that instead of him. “That she was loose, that you were drawn to her by her own design.”
“Oh, that,” he muttered.
I yanked the saddle off with more force than was strictly necessary.
“What do you want from me, Will? I coveted your wife. There. You already knew it.”
I set the saddle down heavily.
“Nothing happened,” he said.
“No, I know that,” I said.
“She would not have welcomed it,” he said. “Anyone could see, when she looks at you…”
“Yes,” I said. “Anyone can see, and yet, here we are, having come back from some attempt to kill him for having her.”
“Perhaps I went to it easily,” he said. “Because I felt guilty. Perhaps I wanted to blame her, so that I could have an excuse not to blame myself.”
I was quiet.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I shall stay away for a time, shall I? You are likely incensed with me.”
