“I do, and I intend to have it.Now.”
Angelo glanced past him. His patrons had caught on to what was passing by now, and they’d pressed closer, all of them holding their breath at once as they waited to see if Angelo would permit the bout to go on, or if he would disoblige the Duke of Montford by sending him out the way he’d come in.
In the end, Angelo did what any savvy businessman would do.
He selected a rapier from the rack of swords and handed it to Jasper. “I beg, Your Grace, that you do not kill Lord Quincy in my establishment. If you wish to murder him, you may do so in the usual way, after a proper challenge and appointment of seconds.”
Jasper tested the point of the rapier with his finger. “Very well.” It wasn’t precisely what he’d hoped for. He would have relished the chance to reduce Quincy to a gory mound of shredded flesh, but Prue was waiting, and even as circumscribed a duel as this would be enough to humiliate Quincy as he deserved.
Quincy, who’d at last caught on, spoke up then. “You say His Grace may not kill me, Angelo, but you haven’t restricted me in the same manner. Am I to be permitted to kill His Grace, then?”
A ripple of laughter rose from the crowd.
“You may try, my lord, but I rather doubt it.” Angelo gave Quincy a cool smile. “I’ve seen His Grace fence.”
Quincy’s face darkened at that, but he removed his coat, tossing it to a companion, and accepted the rapier Angelo offered him, slicing the blade through the air. “I await your pleasure, Your Grace.”
“And a pleasure it will be, Quincy.” Jasper strode toward Quincy, and the knot of gentlemen fell back to gather around them, clearing a circle in the center of the room.
“Two touches only, gentlemen,” Angelo called. “Only those to the chest shall be deemed valid, but in deference to the insult paid to the Duchess of Montford, you may bloody yourselves as much as you please.En garde.”
Jasper offered Quincy a shallow bow, which Quincy returned with a flourishing one of his own, then Jasper attacked, lunging forward with a straight thrust directly at the center of Quincy’s chest.
It was a powerful stroke, quick and efficient, and for all Quincy’s boasted skill as a swordsman, he only just managed to catch the tip of Jasper’s rapier and deflect with a circle parry. It was badly done, and Quincy was forced to drop back, his blade whipping through the air in an attempt to slice Jasper’s hand.
But he wasn’t quick enough. The edge of his rapier found only air, and then Jasper was on him again, lunging forward. This time the tip of his blade found its mark, and a murmur went up among the spectators as a patch of dark red blossomed on Quincy’s elegant striped waistcoat.
Quincy’s blood wasn’t as red as his face, however. “Damn you, Montford.” He lunged again, but he was flustered now, the patch of blood on his waistcoat spreading ever wider, and his attempt to beat Jasper’s blade back failed.
Jasper could have ended the bout right there and then, but he wasn’t in a merciful mood.
He feinted, then feinted again, forcing Quincy into parrying, but it was no use. Quincy was already tiring, and his reflexes were slow. Jasper renewed his attack, and the edge of his blade found Quincy’s shoulder. It wasn’t a deep wound, but he followed it with a swipe at Quincy’s arm, and with one quick stroke, he ripped Quincy’s shirt from his elbow to his wrist, leaving a long, thin slash mark that oozed blood.
Another gasp went up from the surrounding gentlemen. Quincy staggered, and nearly toppled backward onto his arse. If the man’s crime had been anything less than a malicious attack on Prue, Jasper might have felt sorry for him.
As it was, he merely waited, his rapier balanced casually between his fingers, while Quincy regained his feet. “You’re looking a trifle ill, Quincy. Shall we put an end to this? You may yet save the last shreds of your dignity, provided you agree to tell me what I want to know.”
“Never,” Quincy snarled, his voice shaking with mortification and rage.
Jasper shrugged. “Very well, then.En garde.”
Quincy attempted a riposte, but Jasper easily blocked his advance, and with a flick of the tip of his rapier he sliced open Quincy’s cheekbone.
Quincy cried out and jerked his hand to his face, paling when it came back dripping with blood. “Damn you, Montford, you bloody savage.”
After that, it was all but over. Quincy made a few more shaky attempts to draw Jasper’s blood, but he was bleeding badly by now, particularly after Jasper delivered another jab to Quincy’s chest, opening a new wound and ending the bout.
Angelo called it then, declaring Jasper the victor.
“A word, Quincy.” Jasper passed his bloodied rapier to his grandfather and strode toward Quincy, pushing aside one of Quincy’s friends, who’d come forward to help Quincy to his carriage. The man paled, and backed away.
Quincy gave him a sulky look. “I don’t have to tell you a cursed thing, Montford.”
Jasper smiled. “Of course not, Quincy, but if you don’t, then you may choose your second, because you’ll be meeting me at dawn on Primrose Hill the day after tomorrow.”
Quincy visibly blanched. “Yes, alright. What do youwant, Montford?”
“Not here. The carriage.” He grabbed Quincy by the collar of his shirt and dragged him past dozens of gawking gentlemen out the door of Angelo’s, nodding to his grandfather as he passed.
