“You are right about that,” Viola said as they came within hearing distance of Henry, who stood in close conversation with Yates. She raised her voice. “I only hope I shan’t have to inform Florian of his brother’s untimely death when he returns to England, for I daresay that would probably ruin the holiday he and his wife have had.”
Henry turned toward her the moment he heard her speak, his eyes lit with appreciation before dimming beneath lowered eyebrows. “You should not be here,” he said.
Viola snorted. “Haines said the exact same thing, yet here I am.” She crossed her arms to ensure they knew she had no intention of leaving.
“What if he does actually kill me?” Henry jutted his chin in Robert’s direction.
Viola flattened her lips. “Then I shall have ‘Dead from unnecessary cause and too stubborn to listen to reason’ engraved upon your headstone.”
He stared at her and she felt the heat of it all the way to her toes. “I am serious, Viola.”
“Yes. I know.” She was trying to be strong for him, but fear filled her veins and her eyes were starting to sting. Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, she aimed for an even tone and added, “But waiting however long it might take for word of what happened to reach me would likely put me in the hospital. So I am staying.”
Sighing, he gave a slight nod. He did not touch her or look at her with any hint of desire. His emotions were restrained, his movements precise, but the words that followed were tender, in spite of the tension with which he spoke. “You mean the world to me, Viola. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Shall we begin?” Yates asked.
Henry hesitated. He glanced at Viola and then looked at Robert. Indecision blanketed the sharp intensity of his gaze. “Will you apologize for the disparaging terms in which you referred to Her Grace last night?” he asked Robert.
“No.” Robert’s jaw was set in undeniable anger.
Henry stared back at him across the distance. “Are you absolutely certain?”
“You have the power to end this before either one of you gets hurt,” Yates called.
“My words suit her to perfection,” Robert spat. “I will not take them back.”
Henry nodded. He met Viola’s gaze. “I am sorry, but there’s nothing else for it, I’m afraid.” His eyes focused on Robert once more and he turned away from her then, his entire being fixed upon his opponent.
Viola’s heart fluttered like a panicked bird against her chest. He’d tried to get out of it. Even though his pride demanded he face Robert, he’d made an attempt to avoid it, not for himself, but for her. The sting in her eyes worsened until she was forced to blink away tears.
“We should move over there,” Haines said, and as reluctant as Viola was to listen, as much as she wanted to step between the two men now positioning themselves back to back, she knew she couldn’t interfere any further.
Moving off to the side so they stood a good distance away, Viola watched with her heart in her throat as Yates started counting the paces. “One... two...” Her legs began shaking, and breathing became a difficult chore. It felt as though she was suffocating or drowning, she wasn’t sure which, but the thought did strike her that it would be quite something if the duel was called off because she was too weak to endure it.
“Seven... eight...” Yates continued, his voice carrying loud and clear and bringing them all closer to the inevitable. “Nine... ten... Please turn!” Yates paused and Viola suddenly wanted to scream for him to continue so this awful nightmare could finally be over and... “Take aim and... fire!”
Shots exploded and both men went down so fast that Viola could only stare in stark disbelief, as her brain refused to accept what she was seeing.No. The word was jammed in her throat. Somehow her feet started moving and then she was suddenly running while her heart thrashed wildly about in her chest. She skidded to a halt in the grass, landing on her knees beside Henry, whose hat had toppled from his head and...
A sob was wrenched from her throat and her hands patted frantically at his chest, his neck, his face, desperate to find sign of life.
“Viola.” Yates’s voice seemed to come from so far away. A pair of warm hands touched her shoulders, and through the tears she saw Haines checking Henry’s body with much greater calm than she possessed at the moment. All Viola could look at was the bright crimson liquid trickling down the side of his head.
“There’s so much blood.” She could barely speak, the words trembling upon her lips while her body shook in absolute desperation.
“He’s alive, Viola,” Yates was saying, but then why was he lying so still? And what about all the blood?
“The lead ball must have penetrated his hat and grazed his scalp,” Haines said. He produced a piece of linen from his bag, soaked it with gin and dabbed at Henry’s wound. “See? The wound is shallow, Viola.”
Haines pressed down on the wound to stanch the bleeding and Henry came to, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth. “Christ almighty!”
Viola blew out a breath. “Don’t move,” she cautioned. “You were struck, though not too severely.”
“But you did hit your head when you fell to the ground,” Yates said. “You’ve been unconscious for about five minutes.”
“And Tremaine?” Henry groaned.
“His second is helping him stand.” Yates said. “I believe you struck his shoulder.”
