Thunder and Roses (32 page)

At first there was a stunned silence. Then a single voice raised a wild cheer. More and more people joined in to produce a roar that rattled the rafters of Candover House.

Adding his own exhilarated shout to the din, Nicholas pushed his way toward Clare; kissing her was a perfect way to celebrate. To his intense disgust, Lucien, who was closer, beat him to it with a jubilant embrace that swept Clare from her feet.

After Lucien returned her to the floor, Nicholas gathered her into his own arms, saying to his friend, “I suppose it would be churlish to cut out your liver, but next time find a girl of your own.”

Unintimidated
, Lucien grinned and pounded him on the back. “The war that has been going on since we were in short coats is over! By all things great and wonderful, we’ve done it!”

Giddier than he’d ever seen her, Clare wrapped her arms around Nicholas and kissed him exuberantly. When she came up for air, she said with awe, “Even though Napoleon’s forces have been on the defensive for the last year, it’s hard to believe that the end has arrived. Finally, finally, we’ll have peace.”

Nicholas thought of the war-ravaged areas of Europe he’d seen, and his arms tightened around Clare. “T
hank
God the fighting never reached British soil. Our losses were light compared to what most of the nations of Europe have suffered.”

Still beaming, Lucien said, “With luck, I’ll never have to do a blessed useful thing in my life.”

Nicholas laughed. “After all you’ve done for your country the last few years, you’re entitled to spend the rest of your life lying around like a turnip.”

Similar scenes of exultation surrounded them. Nearby stood an older man in a Guard’s uniform with an empty sleeve. His remaining arm circled his wife while both of them wept unashamedly. Even the “statues” abandoned their roles and jumped to the floor to join in the celebration. A cheer went up for Wellington, then for his troops.

Nicholas glanced up at the musicians’ gallery again, then stiffened. “Isn’t that Michael up there talking to Rafe?”

Lucien peered upward. “So it is. Probably wanted to learn if Rafe has any details. God knows that from the look of him, Michael has paid a higher price for victory than most.”

“With luck, the announcement has put him in a good mood.”

Taking Clare’s hand, Nicholas threaded his way through the rapturous crowd, Lucien right behind them. Clare almost had to run to keep up. They climbed the entry hall staircase, then turned left into a long, dimly lit corridor that must parallel the upper wall of the two-story ballroom.

At the far end of the corridor, the duke and a tall, rangy man emerged from a door that led to the musicians’ gallery. Behind them the orchestra struck up a triumphal march that was muted when the duke closed the door.

As the duke and his companion came down the corridor, talking earnestly, Clare studied Major Lord Michael Kenyon. Lucien had described him as lean and
wolflike
, and it was true that his recent illness had left him thin almost to gauntness. Yet the strong bones of his face were still ruggedly handsome, and he moved with an athlete’s sureness. He seemed like a worthy addition to the Fallen Angels. Especially, she thought with amusement, since his glossy chestnut hair fitted nicely between the black or blond extremes of the other members.

With his quarry in sight, Nicholas slowed his pace. “Congratulations, Michael. As one of the men who fought for this victory, you have more reason to celebrate than most.”

Lord Michael froze, the animation in his face dying as he swung about. His eyes were a dark, haunted green. “Trust you to ruin a happy moment, Aberdare,” he said harshly. “Under the circumstances, I’ll forgo what I swore I’d do if I ever saw you again, but get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Nicholas still held Clare’s hand, and she felt his fingers chill. She realized, with painful empathy, that in spite of Lucien’s warning, Nicholas had not truly believed that his old friend had become an enemy.

Even now he must not believe it, for he said mildly, “That’s an odd greeting after years of separation. Shall we try again?” He stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s been too long, Michael. I’m glad to see that you’ve survived the Peninsula.”

The other man jerked back as if he was faced by a viper. “Do you think I’m joking? You should know better.”

The duke said sharply, “If there are matters to be discussed, my study is a better place than this hall.”

By sheer force of will, he shepherded everyone into a room just down the corridor. As he lit several lamps, Rafe said, “Tonight is a time for beating swords into
plowshares
. If something has been festering over the years, Michael, now is a good time to settle it.”

As crosscurrents of emotion surged through the room, Clare realized that she had become almost invisible. These men had met in the harsh conditions of a public school and had grown up together. Like all groups of friends, they would be connected by a web of shared experiences that had developed over many years—memories of joy and sorrow, of conflict and support. Now one of them was threatening to tear the fabric asunder.

The major had withdrawn behind the duke’s desk, and his raging gaze made Clare think of a predator at bay. “This is not your affair, Rafe. Nor yours, Lucien.” To Nicholas, he said with what sounded like genuine sorrow, “When I heard that you’d left the country, I thought you’d have the decency to stay away.”

Voice tight as a drum, Nicholas replied, “Would you mind telling me what you think I’ve done?”

“Don’t play the innocent, Aberdare. The others may believe you, but I don’t.”

Rafe started to speak, but Nicholas held up his hand to stop him. “Forget my alleged wrongdoing for a moment, Michael. I need to talk to you about a matter that is strictly business. Your mine in Penreith is being run in a highly dangerous manner. Not only is your manager endangering the workers, but there have been suggestions that he’s skimming the profits as well. If you haven’t the time or inclination to deal with it yourself, sell the company back to me so I can do what is needed.”

After an incredulous moment, the major gave a laugh that sent chills down Clare’s spine. “If Madoc is irritating you, I should raise his salary.”

Clare knew that her own anger was mirrored by Nicholas, but he kept his voice admirably even. “Don’t turn the mine into a bone between us, Michael. The men whose lives are at risk are innocent of whatever you’re holding against me.”

“You’ve turned into an old woman, Aberdare,” the major said coldly. “Mining has always been dangerous, and it always will be. Miners know and accept that.”

“There is a difference between courage and foolhardiness,” Nicholas retorted. “In the last couple of weeks, I’ve inquired about accidents and deaths at similar mines. The Penreith pit is four or five times more dangerous than the others, and there’s a potential for major catastrophe. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“You’ve been in my mine?” The green eyes narrowed. “Keep the hell out in the future. If I hear that you’ve trespassed, I’ll have Madoc set the law on you.”

“I’m beginning to understand why you left him in charge—you talk exactly like him,” Nicholas said dryly. “If you don’t believe what I say, investigate yourself. I guarantee that unless you’re the sort of officer who enjoyed seeing his men slaughtered, you’ll admit that the mine is in dire need of improvement. You’re the only one in a position to make changes quickly, so damn it, live up to your responsibilities.”

Michael’s face twisted. “There is no way in hell I will do anything to oblige you.”

“Remember that I own that land—if you refuse to improve conditions, I’ll find a way to break the lease. I’d rather not take it to the law, because lives might be lost while the courts decide, but if I have to, I will.” Nicholas’s voice hardened. “And by God, if men die needlessly while you’re sulking, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Why waste time waiting for a crisis?” Michael pulled crumpled gloves from his pocket and stepped around the desk. Before anyone realized what he had in mind, he slapped the gloves viciously across Nicholas’s face. “Is that clear enough? Name your seconds, Aberdare.”

In the shocked hush that followed, the distant sounds of revelry were clearly audible. Clare felt the numbness of nightmare. This couldn’t be happening—Lord Michael couldn’t want a fight to the death with a man he hadn’t seen in years; a man who had been a close friend.

Nicholas’s cheek reddened from the force of the blow, but he did not strike back. Instead he scrutinized his old friend as if seeing him for the first time. “War can drive men mad, and that’s obviously what has happened to you.” He turned to Clare, and she saw anguish in his eyes. “I won’t fight a lunatic. Come, Clare. It’s time to go.”

He took her arm and led her to the door. As he raised his hand to the knob, Lord Michael’s bitter voice snarled, “Coward!”

A hissing sound cut the silence, ending in a hard
thunk
! as the tip of a wicked-looking knife buried itself in the door between Clare and Nicholas. She stared at the quivering haft, horrified at how close that lethal blade had come.

Quietly Nicholas said, “Don’t worry, Clare. If he had wanted to hit me, he would have.” He took hold of the knife and wrenched it from the wood, then turned to face the other man. “I won’t fight you, Michael,” he said again. “If you want to kill me, you’ll have to make it cold-blooded murder, and I can’t believe you’ve changed that much.”

Eyes burning, the major said, “Your faith is misguided, Aberdare, but I’d rather kill you fairly. Fight,
goddamnit
!”

Nicholas shook his head. “No. If you want to think me a coward, go ahead. I am supremely indifferent to your delusions.” He took Clare’s arm again.

Michael began drumming the fingers of his left hand on the mahogany desk. “Does your little whore know that you killed your grandfather and your wife?”

In a blur of movement so swift that Clare couldn’t follow it, Nicholas raised his arm and hurled the knife back across the room. It sliced into the desk a quarter inch away from Michael’s fingers. “Clare is a lady, something you are obviously incapable of recognizing,” he said in a voice that was no longer even. “Very well —if you want to fight, so be it. But since you’re the challenger, the choice of weapons is mine.”

Lucien started to speak, but Michael cut him off. Voice gloating, he said, “Any time, any place, any weapon.”

“The time—now,” Nicholas said flatly. “The place—here. And the weapons—horsewhips.”

The major’s face turned a dull red. “Horsewhips? Don’t mock me, Aberdare. The choice is between pistols and swords. Even hand-to-hand fighting with knives if you want, but not with something as trivial as a whip.”

“Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

Nicholas gave an ice-edged smile. “Think how satisfying it will be to horsewhip me—if you’re good enough, which I don’t think you are.”

“I’m good enough to flay your hide off as you deserve,” Michael growled. “Very well, let us begin.”

Rafe exploded, “This has gone far enough! You’ve both lost your minds. I won’t allow this on my property.”

Lucien said quietly, “If Michael is determined on violence, I’d rather it took place here with both of us present.”

Lucien and Rafe exchanged a long look. With deep reluctance, the duke said, “Perhaps you’re right.”

Nicholas said, “Will you act for me, Luce?”

“Of course.”

The major turned his ire on Lord Strathmore. “The Arabs have a saying: the friend of my enemy is my enemy. Let him find someone else.”

Face set, Lucien said, “I count you both my friends, and the most important duty of a second is to try to resolve the dispute without bloodshed. You can start by telling me what your complaint is so that Nicholas has a chance to answer it.”

Michael shook his head. “I will not speak of what happened. Nicholas knows, whether he admits it or not. If you insist on acting for him, we are no longer friends.”