Authors: Olivia Kingsley
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
"Very well," Robert shot back, his tone alarmingly impatient, "since you insist,
sir
, it is my pleasure to inform you that Lady Georgiana and I have been—umph!"
She grimaced at his grunt of pain, caused by her elbow to his stomach. It had been a panicked reaction, but the right one. She would not allow him to make a false announcement, giving him the leverage of public knowledge of a 'betrothal' to use against her. Yes, she had her doubts about what she wanted. But they were merely doubts, and however tempting, she was not prepared to relinquish the fragile control of her own future without a fight.
"Please, Phillip," she said calmly, "do not cause a fuss. I am not in the least bit disgraced."
"Are you to be married, then?" he asked in a pained voice. "Is that why you wouldn't… is that why I—"
"No. No, we are not. But Phillip—"
She choked on her words as he took threatening steps toward them, his eyes throwing daggers at Robert. "You worthless bastard! You steal her from me with lies, then seduce and ruin her. I demand satisfaction. For the lady's honor!"
Georgie huffed. "Don't be a fool, Phillip!"
"Hush," Robert hissed behind her, clamping down around the elbow she had attacked him with before.
"What?" She whirled, yanking her arm from his grip. "You can't accept, Robert! It's ridiculous!"
He only stared at her, his lips thinned.
He couldn't be in earnest. God, she wanted to slap him. She wanted to slap them both. Foolish, stubborn men!
She turned back to demand that Phillip back down—she'd even beg if she had to—but hesitated when her brother opened the door and said grimly, "You had better leave, Georgie."
"No!" Damn them. They
would not
do this to her. "I won't be banished like a child. And there will be no duel!"
She glared at every man in the room in turn, but when her eyes went finally to Robert, she softened and said, "Robert, you mustn't—"
"Please, Georgie," he interrupted quietly. "Leave. This is no place for you."
She began to protest, but his pleading gaze and voice penetrated her indignation. She couldn't ignore such an entreaty, not from Robert.
He had been challenged. Of course he couldn't refuse. Giving a short nod, she stepped into her slippers, then hurried to the door. Once in the hallway, however, she grabbed the knob just as Richard closed the door behind her, preventing it from clicking shut. She waited until she knew her brother's attention was elsewhere, then carefully inched the door open again, little by little until there was a slit large enough to let the men's voices through.
Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she startled. Glancing back, she only caught a glimpse of Louisa's worried eyes and pinched lips before hearing voices from inside the billiard room again.
"Choose your weapons, Sheffield," Phillip snarled, and Georgie had to cover her mouth to prevent the whimper that rose in her throat from escaping.
"No weapons," Robert said firmly. "We'll settle it with fists."
Georgie swallowed hard.
Fists.
The image that flashed before her was violent and bloody. But thank God he hadn't chosen pistols or swords. At least this way their foolishness would not get either of them killed.
"Excellent!" Hugo said with cheerfulness that carried an edge of relief that mirrored Georgie's. "A boxing match it is. And perhaps some wagers can be put down…?"
"A boxing match would be perfect," her brother said. "When?"
Hugo sounded even more excited as he replied, "The day after tomorrow. We need some time to prepare."
"Ah," said Richard. "Yes, of course. The arrangements must be made. Rossemore?"
"I have no objections," Phillip said gruffly. "I presume it shall be at Jackson's?"
"
No.
" The objection came in unison from Georgie's brother and cousins, and Hugo hastened to explain. "Jackson's is good for practice only. It is no place for a serious match. I believe I know of a place where we can pull it off. I shall make enquiries tomorrow and inform you of the results."
"Very well."
Robert's words carried an undertone of finality that set off alarms in Georgie's head. She seized Louisa's arm and hauled her along as she hurried down the hallway. Unintentionally, she had chosen to walk away from the ballroom, but it was just as well, for she was far too rattled to face anyone at the moment.
"Where are we going?" Louisa asked, breathless.
"I don't know," Georgie said. "Back to the dressing room?"
Her friend followed silently as they hurried downstairs again. Georgie's heart beat erratically. A duel! Years ago, perhaps even a few months ago, she would have been flattered, would have thought it romantic beyond compare.
Now she only considered it a disaster.
It was her fault. Robert had cornered her, but that was no excuse for her behavior. Apparently, he had only to get her alone, and she would succumb to temptation. And now he'd have to fight, even though she was the one who refused to marry.
What were Phillip's motives? Did he think he could win her back in such a way? Or perhaps he had no rational reason. He certainly hadn't appeared rational; his reaction had been too swift, too maddened. Perhaps the fleeting impression she'd had in her father's study the day before had not been unfounded. Perhaps he truly didn't simply want her for her money.
God, what a tangle! If only there was something she could do to stop the match. But it was too late now. The event was set. Loathe it though she did, she was right at the center of it.
To her parents, she had vowed exemplary behavior; to herself, she had vowed to forget Robert, to ignore him and the pull he had on her heart and her will. Still, she could not ignore that she was the cause of it all.
She had no choice about it: she had to attend the boxing match.
"WHAT HAVE YOU discovered?" Georgie asked in a hushed voice, inching closer to Louisa on the settee they shared. A constant flow of chatter filled Southwell House's front parlor, enabling them to share a private conversation. It was early afternoon, and Lady Albermarle had called with her three unmarried daughters in tow to gossip about last night's ball.
Louisa's gaze darted around the small circle of chairs and settees, flitting between Georgie's aunt, their mothers, and her younger twin sisters Cremona and Milana. "Not much," she said quietly. "Fernando would only tell me that Mr. Cameron and your brother are to be Lord Sheffield's seconds. I could not ask any more lest he become suspicious. And you?"
"Not much, either," Georgie replied with a sigh. "Richard and Edward seemed in a great hurry at breakfast this morning, and I dared not ask them a thing. They'd grow suspicious if I showed too much interest in the event. But I managed to overhear some of their conversation, and I think it is to take place at noon tomorrow in a park."
"Why are you whispering?" Milana asked sharply, and when the two of them looked up guiltily, Cremona said with mock playfulness, "You must know you cannot keep a secret from us."
Georgie glared at the twins. At seventeen, they were fair-haired, like all of Louisa's siblings, and dainty in appearance if not in manners. Suddenly struck by how perfect either one of them would be for the rude and far too outspoken Anthony Balfour, Georgie flashed a smile and said sweetly, "Why, we were discussing the gentlemen with whom you danced yesterday. I noticed Mr. Balfour paying you particular attention."
"He did?" Louisa blurted, frowning. When Georgie threw her a pointed look, she seemed to catch herself, saying, "Oh, he
did
. But I cannot recall which one of you he favored."
Cremona wrinkled her nose. "It was not me. If it were, I should not encourage him one bit."
"Nor I," intoned her twin. "I could never form an attachment to an officer."
Lady Albermarle gave an approving nod. "No, indeed. Being a soldier's wife is a wretched life. If your father had not retired from the service when he did, I should be absolutely miserable."
"But I should not be averse to Lord Sheffield's attentions," Cremona continued, brows furrowing. "He'd suit me perfectly."
Nitwit. Lord Sheffield would never choose a silly little girl for a wife.
Georgie clenched her jaw, suppressing the urge to voice the thought aloud.
Milana shook her head. "I do not care for Lord Sheffield. He is too old-fashioned."
Georgie scoffed silently. Robert had no need to follow fashions; he looked elegant no matter his choice of attire.
"Well, now, that is neither here nor there. Sheffield is intended for neither of you," Lady Albermarle said before turning to Georgie's mother. "When shall you make the announcement, Elizabeth?"
Georgie gave a start. "Oh, there's no—"
"Nothing has been decided yet," her mother interrupted, leveling a quelling glance her way.
"They are still becoming reacquainted," her Aunt Arabella added hastily. "And we do not think it proper to make such an announcement while our great-aunt Davenport is still recovering from her ill health."
Lady Albermarle delivered a put-on smile and murmured in understanding, and Georgie bit her tongue as the topic of conversation shifted. Louisa's mother knew all was not as it seemed, and yet she accepted the explanation. What consummate liars they all were, pretending to deceive each other for the sake of appearances.
"What is the plan, then?" Louisa said once the other women's attention was no longer on the two of them.
"I intend to find out where the match is to take place somehow," Georgie replied. "But I still do not think you ought to go. I don't want you to get in trouble on my account."
Her friend let out an exasperated sigh. "You're the one who is no longer allowed to go anywhere without a chaperone, so I should not be in nearly as much trouble as you. Besides, without my help, how are you to slip away in the first place?"
"Fair enough. Be here at nine. We ought to be able to find someone who knows where they're going. If we have to, we'll follow them." And pray they were not discovered.
"A message arrived from Louisa. She discovered where the Boxing Match is to take place tomorrow, and has volunteered to provide Transportation. However, she did not see fit to share the information she had learnt, leaving me in a most vexing state of Curiosity. One should think she would know me better by now!"
— From the diary of Lady Georgiana Montford, aged 20
A BRAWNY FOOTMAN in Albermarle's livery of red and green flung open the unmarked carriage door as Georgie hurried down the front steps the next morning. With little attention to gracefulness, she climbed inside and threw herself down next to Louisa, who faced forward with her trusted abigail, Bell, perched across from her. The door closed, and the vehicle jerked into motion.
"You made it," Louisa said. "I was worried you would not."
"So was I." Sneaking about suddenly held a strange lack of appeal. Such a foolish thing to find exciting! And now she had the added guilt over her relief at discovering her mother feeling too poorly that morning to notice her absence. Shame descended, as well—shame for betraying the tentative demonstration of trust her father had shown.
And yet, despite her misgivings, calling off the trip had been out of the question. She knew now that her intentions to put Robert from her mind had been doomed from the beginning, regardless of his refusal to leave her be. As if the essence of him had left its footprints on her soul, she could not ignore his existence. And so she had little choice but to be present at the event despite her vow to forget him and despite the risk of upsetting her parents again.
She needn't sneak about, of course; regardless of her father's fear that she would do something to disgrace the family, her parents trusted her enough to spend a day in Louisa's company. But she'd still have to lie about their destination, and she'd told enough selfish untruths lately to last her a lifetime. Stealing away in secret was hardly commendable, but it was at least a small step up from a blatant lie.
The carriage sped past Berkeley Square's grand town houses, and when they began to skirt the south end of Hyde Park, Georgie's curiosity piqued. "Where are we going?"
"To Richmond Park," her friend replied. "They've set up a boxing ring in the open space next to Adam's Pond."
Oh, of course. Georgie rolled her eyes. Leave it to her brother to consider the vast public park the perfect place to host a secret boxing match. Acknowledging that it was at least a better choice than a park in the city, Georgie settled herself against the squabs, putting a firmer grip on her reticule and the veiled bonnet in her lap. "How did you find out?"
"I didn't. Bell did."
Georgie raised her eyebrows at her friend's rosy-cheeked little maid, whose face was split in a smile that revealed a row of large but perfectly straight teeth. "Lord Huntingfield's valet has a particular fondness for flattery," Bell said in a confidential tone.
Georgie grinned. "Bell, you are employed in the wrong service; you ought to be a spy."
As the maid giggled and beamed, Georgie turned to her friend. "Where does your mother assume you have gone?"
Louisa made a face. "Shopping in Bond Street with you. Of course, the only thing we could possibly end up purchasing is trouble."
Cringing, Georgie steered her mind away from thoughts of the consequences should they be discovered.
They kept up a conversation of mindless chitchat until well past Chelsea, but once they left Fulham behind, their false cheerfulness deflated, and there seemed nothing left to say. Finally, with the moderately elegant town of Richmond at their backs, the landau slowed as it crawled its way up the hill toward the park.
The quietness left much room for thought, and Georgie's apprehension mounted as they drove through the tall and imposing Richmond Gate. It would be fanciful to call their expedition a dangerous one, but knowing her brother and cousins, she could not but suspect that some sort of commotion might erupt.
The road undulated through the north end of the park, and they passed woods of chestnuts and oaks and rolled by low hills and far-stretching, bracken-covered fields where sheep and cattle grazed lazily. As they made slow but steady progress toward Adam's Pond, one question echoed in her mind: Would Robert and Phillip really go through with the fight?