Kissing his cheek, excitement built in Elizabeth’s chest as they rode in comfortable silence toward Netherfield Park. In the pre-dawn darkness, mist rose from the ground. They arrived early, using a lantern to locate the exact area in the field theyneeded to set up. Their driver and a groom helped them carry all they needed to a table they brought. Elizabeth carefully arranged her weapons, positioning them for easy access. This would be civilized warfare, though the swirling fog around the table and themselves created an eerie atmosphere that bespoke of secret strategies and schemes.
The field was empty. Fortunately, their wait for Elizabeth’s opponent was not long.
The pre-dawn darknessshifted to gray light. Mist rolled across the field in waves. Silhouettes emerged from the fog; the Bennets were already there.
Darcy’s cousin, who joined him only minutes before he departed from Netherfield Park, caught Darcy’s arm.
“Explain,” Richard demanded. “Why has an old man challenged you?”
“Not him.” Darcy’s jaw clenched. The shame sat like a stone in his chest. “Her. She challenged me.”
“Good lord, Darcy! A woman?”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly, unable to meet his cousin’s stare. “Yes.”
“You accepted a challenge from a woman?” Richard’s voice rose with disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? What could possibly…”
“I insulted her last evening at a blasted assembly. She overheard.”
“You insulted…” Richard stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Darcy, men do not duel women. Ever. For any reason. And women do not demand satisfaction from a gentleman. What in God’s name did you say to make her…”
“‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’” Even repeating the words made his face burn with shame.
His cousin fell silent, his expression shifting from shock to something closer to disgust. “You said that? Within her hearing?”
Darcy wanted to make his cousin understand the impossible position he had been placed in, but there was no justification. No explanation that would make this right.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I did.”
Richard stared at him. As they drew closer, he could see what a remarkably featured woman stood waiting. “Are you blind?”
“Apparently, I was. I did not truly look at her. I glimpsed an outdated gown and worn slippers. I made a judgment in a moment of arrogance.” Darcy pulled away, riding toward the edge of the field.
“Good god in heaven, Darcy!” Richard threw his hands in the air, startling his horse. “I rode through the night thinking I would be standing second while you faced pistols. I suspected that George Wickham finally provoked you to act. I was proud of you for doing so, while at the same time scheming how I could have my share of vengeance against him.”
Darcy said nothing.Could he feel any smaller?
“You will not harm her person,” Richard stated with certainty.
“Never.”
The dueling pistols in their wooden case were tied tightly on the saddle behind him. Deadly armaments that were intended to take a life rather than injure. They were his fathers. Always available. Never used. His sword was in Richard’s scabbard, bouncing against his cousin’s leg with each step their mounts took through the wet grass.
He had wounded her. Now, she intended to wound him.
The Bennets’ carriage horses nickered softly. Birds began to wake.
Dismounting, they tied their horses to a shrub before walking across the grass.
Revulsion covered his cousin’s face. Darcy’s countenance surely reflected the same.
He shuddered. He was responsible for getting himself into this muddle. Never should he have made a derogatory comment about a lady, especially one who, upon second notice, was far lovelier than he first observed.
In the mist, the rising sun glistened in her eyes, which were lovely. Her form was light and pleasing. Her spirit was sheer determination.
The incongruity struck Darcy. If she were as skilled as her confidence suggested, this could be the end for him. Even a wound could fester and be deadly. Never would he marry or father children. He would not see his sister’s presentation or escort her down the aisle when she wed. He would never know the future of his beloved estate, Pemberley.Blast!This was in every way an unsavory business.
He was an idiot.
