“Enough,” she said, stepping forward, her voice firm but shaking with emotion. Trying one last time she grabbed her brother’s arm and pleaded, “This foolishness cannot go any further. You have to call it off.”
“It is far too late for that, sister dear,” he said coldly. “The Duke of Amberwood would never allow me to renege now. His honor is at stake.” He met her gaze. “I will arrange for you to have an escort home. This is no concern of yours.”
But it had everything to do with her… This duel was being fought in her honor. Her brother would not listen to her though. He had made a decision, and she was only a silly girl that had no intelligent thoughts in her head. In that moment she hated him a little bit, and a part of her also hated the duke. Yes, he had come to her aid, but he didn’t have to accept the challenge to a duel. Men were fools and she wanted nothing to do with any of them.
Kingston Brooks, the Duke of Amberwood trained his eyes on the figures before him, the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating. The early morning mist had yet to dissipate, but the seconds were in place, the pistols loaded, and the challenge was set. The duel was about to begin. He still could not believe he found himself in such an untenable situation. How had this even come into being? The chit had been lovely to be sure, but he had not even known her name until her brother chastised her—Jaclyn. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and he could see her there. That gorgeous strawberry blonde hair that begged him to unravel it from that chignon, and her eyes… Those light-green eyes were so lively and enchanting. She truly was a lovely woman, and it was too bad that he would never come to know more of her. They had never been introduced and never would be allowed a proper introduction. He did, however, know Lord Oakley well. As soon as the man had appeared Kingston had recognized him. Lord Oakley was known for his hot temper and impulsiveness. He should have found a way to extricate himself from the situation, but his own temper had gotten the better of him.
Lord Kendal, standing beside him, exhaled a sharp breath, clearly uneasy. Kingston could feel the palpable weight of his friend’s discomfort, but the decision had already been made. It was a matter of honor, no more or less, and if Kingston would not fight, then Kendal would stand in his place. There was no turning back now.
"Do you have the pistols?" Kingston asked, turning to the Marquess of Finley, who had been designated as the Earl of Oakley’s second for this ill-fated affair.
"Of course," the Marquess of Finley replied, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the leather pouch from his coat. "My sister Charlotte helped me retrieve them from our father’s study. It took some convincing, mind you," he added with a glance at Lord Oakley, who stiffened at the mention of Charlotte’s involvement.
Neither of these men seemed to know how to use the intelligence necessary to make a good decision. Kingston rolled his eyes. One was too protective of his sister that it led them to a duel and the other had used his own sister to retrieve the pistols for the duel in question. He wanted to shake sense into both men.
"Finley, you’ve no right dragging your sister into such matters," Lord Oakley reprimanded sharply, his voice thick with annoyance. "This is far beyond her purview. She ought not to have been involved."
Kingston had to restrain a chuckle at the exchange. Oakley was not wrong, but his timing could be better. He should have considered how his friend got the pistols sooner. That poor girl would likely be in trouble because of their actions. It was none of his concern though. "I’m certain Lady Charlotte is well able to handle herself," he said lightly, though his tone was far more serious. "Let us focus on the matter at hand." He wanted this nonsense done with so he could go home. It had been a very long night.
Finley rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, Oakley. I understand your concern, but it’s done now, isn’t it?" His eyes flicked over to Kingston, standing across from them. It was time. Not that Kingston wanted to participate in the duel, but the die had already been cast. He could not escape his fate. “You may choose the pistol first, Your Grace.” Finley held them out to him.
He chose a pistol. Kingston did not doubt that they were both equal and useable. Finely was the only son of the Duke of Claremont. What he knew of that man suggested he would be fastidious about his weapons. The two seconds moved to their respective places, and the duelists were instructed to take their positions. There was a brief moment of silence as both men held the weapons at their sides, each steadying their grip. Kingston’s pulse quickened, but he remained outwardly calm even when deep inside he still could not fathom that he was actually going to duel the Earl of Oakley.
"On the count of three, gentlemen," Lord Kendal called out in his heavy Scottish brogue, his voice firm and controlled. "One, two, three?—"
Kingston turned and raised his pistol and pressed the trigger without giving it much thought. It was all instinct… The sound of the pistols discharging rang in the air with deafening clarity. Kingston’s breath caught as pain burned in his shoulder. He staggered slightly, a sharp cry escaping his lips as he clutched at the wound. A thin trail of blood began to seep from between his fingers, staining the front of his shirt a dark crimson.
"Feck," Kendal muttered under his breath, his face paling at the sight. "He’s hit." The viscount rushed to Kingston’s side, his face grim. "Come now, Yer Grace, we’ve not the time tae stand about. Ye’ll bleed out if we dinna get ye tae yer townhouse."
Kingston gritted his teeth, wincing as Kendal helped him stand, his movements slow and labored. "It’s not a grievous wound, just a scratch," he insisted, but his voice was faint with the pain of the injury. He would not give Oakley the satisfaction of knowing how much the wound hurt. It was bloody painful, but he would walk to the carriage. If he fainted, he would never hear the end of it. Kingston closed his eyes and silently cursed this outcome. He had hoped it would end without injury, but it was clear that fate had other plans.
"I’ll see him tae the townhouse," Lord Kendal said, his voice low but with a note of finality. He did not even check to see if his own aim had been true. Had Oakley been injured or was he the only lucky one in this infernal duel? "There’s nothing tae be done here. I’ll get him seen by a physician. See that no one hears of this because if it is worse than I believe ye’ll be hearing from the magistrate."
"He tried to seduce my sister," Oakley said, his voice steady but with an edge of impatience. “He got what he deserved. Nothing more.” So, the bastard was uninjured. Wasn’t that just Kingston’s luck…
Lord Finley, holding both of his father’s pistols, gave a curt nod. “Let’s go, Oakley. There is nothing for us here.” With that the two of them left. Thank the lord… He did not know how much more he could take of Lord Oakley and his sanctimonious beliefs.
With the duel officially over Kendal helped Kingston to the waiting carriage. The early morning mist had begun to subside, and the sun started to pierce through the clouds, casting a soft, golden light over the landscape. But for Kingston, the brightness did little to lift the heaviness in his chest or ease the pain in his shoulder. This duel would be something he never forgot.
As they moved, he could not help but wonder if they had truly resolved anything, or if this would only be the beginning of a much longer struggle between him and the man who would never be anything but an enemy.
As to the man’s sister… Kingston hoped he never laid eyes upon Lady Jaclyn Thomas again. She may be one of the loveliest women he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, but she had brought him nothing but trouble, and that was the last thing he needed in his life.
One
The first light of September pierced through the delicate curtains of Lady Jaclyn Thomas’s room at Havenwood Academy, casting a soft glow over the worn wooden floors and the neatly arranged furniture. It was the beginning of a new term, and though the school was filled with the usual bustle of ladies returning after the short summer break, Jaclyn felt the weight of an unsettling quietness hanging in the air.
The summer had been full of unexpected events, most notably the house party at Easton Abbey, along with all the other ladies that stayed at Havenwood over the break. Charlotte and Georgina, her two roommates, had both found love at that very house party. Now they had brand new married lives that did not include Jaclyn. She was happy for them, but she was also lonely. Charlotte had married the Marquess of Easton and his estate bordered Havenwood. That meant she would at least be able to visit with her. Georgina had went and tied herself to that rogue, the Earl of Foxmoore, and his estate was some distance from the academy. Though the earl was friends with the Marquess of Easton so they might visit. Jaclyn could not bring herself to feel anything but a mix of envy and loneliness as the two women, whom she had considered close friends, embarked on their new happy, love filled lives. All she had was the ever-present animosity that brewed between her and the Duke of Amberwood.
Jaclyn had not gone home to visit her family; instead, she had spent the summer at the academy, preferring to avoid the chaos of her ancestral home and her family’s often indifferent ways. After the scandal that had led to her being sent to Havenwood Academy, she did not feel comfortable at home. Her father’s disapproval kept her from feeling as if she still belonged as part of the family. As to her brother… The rotter was the reason her name had been embroiled in scandal to begin with. If not for his actions and assumptions, there would be no reason for her to be at Havenwood. Though she did not regret coming to the school. If not for Havenwood she never would have truly come to know herself and what she wanted for her life.
The solitude of having a room to herself, albeit temporarily, had granted her a temporary peace, but now, with the new school year beginning she knew that would end. And she could not help wondering if she would be assigned a new roommate? The thought left a small knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach. Would this potential new roommate be like Charlotte and would they become fast friends, or would she find herself with someone she loathed?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed by the entrance of Mrs. Havenwood, the headmistress of the academy. The headmistress was tiny in stature. Some easily dismissed her at a glance, but that would be their first mistake. Mrs. Havenwood was no one’s fool, and she had a keen intelligence that allowed her to keep track of all of her students and their aims. She had rich auburn hair streaked with gold that she kept pulled back in a simple chignon. Her gown was a blue so dark that on first glance it seemed black—her usual attire. "Good morning, Lady Jaclyn," Mrs. Havenwood said, her voice firm yet kind. "I trust you are prepared for classes to resume?"
"Good morning," Jaclyn replied, her voice betraying a slight unease. "As ready as I can be, I suppose." It wasn’t as if she would admit to any faults she might have. Not when she no longer had her dearest friend around to commiserate with.
"Yes, I can imagine it’s a bit unnerving, being the only one remaining here," Mrs. Havenwood said, nodding in understanding. She stepped farther into the room, her footsteps soft on the floor. "I am sure you will miss Lady Charlotte and Miss Georgina—or rather Lady Easton and Lady Foxmoore now I should say..."
