Two Notorious Dukes (22 page)

Argyll sat in his study, drinking a large brandy
and cleaning his duelling pistols. They were a fine pair of
engraved and gilded flintlocks made by Wogdon and
Barton of London. They came complete with a
presentation and storage case made of walnut and
inlaid with velvet. Argyll painstakingly cleaned them
with boiling water, using a cotton wad on a stick to pull
through the barrels, removing old gunpowder residue.
He did this repeatedly until the barrels were pristine
and then he re-assembled the pistols, inserting fresh
flints and springs. He cleared the platinum-lined touch
holes with a spike to make sure they were clear of old
powder. He checked the powder horn and the quality of
the powder in it and then the symmetry of the shot,
each round ball weighing nearly half an ounce and
having a calibre of 0.45 of an inch. Each shot would be
fired at a velocity of 800 feet per second and with the
slight rifling in the barrel, it would hit its intended target
very hard. They were lethal if fired in the twenty paces
range. Argyll was testing each pistol when the tap came
on his door, he went and opened it himself to find Lady
Verity standing there.

‘I didn’t know whether you were in or not.’ She
said softly. She was surprised to see him in his shirt
sleeves. He invited her in and offered her a chair. She
looked at the pistols and paraphernalia in shock.

‘Can I get you a little brandy mother? You look
quite shocked.’ Argyll could see the pallor in her face.
She dragged her eyes away from the pistols and
nodded.

‘I’m actually still quite horrified that our house
was invaded in such a way.’ She haughtily. ‘The staff
members that were hurt, are they alright now?’ she
asked and he could hear the quaver in her voice as he
handed her a small brandy.

‘Yes, they are fine, now. I think you should go to
Goring Hall for a week and have some quiet. It’s going
to be bad for the next few weeks.’ He picked up the
pistols and carefully laid them back in the case.

‘Why?’ she asked rather abruptly, her eyes filled
with horror at what those weapons could do.
‘Two reasons. Everyone in the
ton
will be talking
about the invasion of our house and Lord Beresford is
back. Audley has done his best to make it seem like
Robbie was the only man tupping Abigail Beresford, and
I’ve tried to set it straight, but it’s not going to be
pleasant tomorrow morning.’
‘Robert has challenged him?’
‘Audley?’ she nodded. He said simply. ‘Yes.’
‘Then I hope he succeeds.’ She said and
swallowed the brandy. ‘Now you should come and see
Sarah for a few minutes, she’s still unsettled by all of
this.’
‘Yes, Mother.’ He said, emptied his glass and put
his jacket on.
As he opened the door to the drawing room a
pink, silk tornado swept into him, causing him to clutch
at her body. ‘Oh! Johnny!’ she mumbled against his
cravat. He bent and swept Lady Sarah up into his arms,
went to the ecru brocade settee and sat down,
adjusting her weight on his lap. ‘What seems to be the
matter?’ he asked calmly as he heard the first snuffle of
her tears.
‘You’re going to a duel tomorrow.’ she said
tearfully, ‘and if you get killed what will happen to me?’
He laughed heartily. ‘My dear girl! I’m not
fighting a duel, I’m only a second. It’s my responsibility
to see that its a fair fight.’
‘Have you done this before?’ she asked and
sounded just like the innocent girl she was.
He nodded, looked down and gently kissed her
rose coloured lips. He refrained from kissing her deeply
or passionately, it was a rather chaste kiss as he didn’t
even open his lips.
What’s wrong with him?
Sarah
thought and immediately tilted her head and opened
her lips in a provocative manner. Argyll gasped and
suddenly her arms were about his neck and his hand
was up her dress, fondling the bare silky skin above her
garter and his erection was trying to get out of his
britches.
He tore his mouth away from hers. ‘What are
you trying to do to me?’ he was panting, both with
desire and lack of oxygen. He whipped his hand off her
thigh and slowly dropped the hem of her dress. ‘Not
until our Wedding night.’ He said firmly.
‘But it’s such a long time to wait!’ she pouted
suddenly.
‘But wait you will. I’ll be going with Robbie to get
his special licence tomorrow. Would you like me to get
one for us?’
‘What’s a special licence?’ she asked softly.
‘It means we can get married anywhere. I have
applied for a licence at Grosvenor Chapel as you know,
but we have to wait for the banns to be read and that
takes three weeks.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘And you
did want a double wedding.’
‘Yes, I know.’ She said firmly. ‘But I think you can
get one for us, because I can’t wait any longer.’ She
nuzzled her face under his ear and whispered. ‘You’ve
opened a door that I can’t close.’ She sighed softly. ‘I
want you now, not next week or next month, but right
this moment.’ And he felt the shudder of need run
through her body.
‘Damn.’ He murmured in her hair. ‘You make it
very difficult for me.’ He slowly kissed her neck and in
the next second she had leaned back and his face was
buried in her cleavage. He was just going to undo the
back of her gown when he realised what he was doing.
‘God! You, Madam, are a teaser of the first order!’ He
stood up and sat her down on the settee. ‘I’m leaving
while I still can and before I do something I shouldn’t.’
He said and stalked proudly towards the door. ‘Good
night, Sarah.’ He said and dashed through the door as if
a devil were in the room. He stood in the hall, clutched
the hard on that was severely testing the material of his
britches and moaned softly. ‘If only I wasn’t such a
gentleman.’ He murmured and then stalked off to the
ducal apartments to go to bed.
‘Carter? Wake me at three.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’ The valet said as he picked up
Argyll’s jacket from where it was dropped on the bed.
Argyll stripped quickly, threw himself into bed and was
asleep before Carter finished sorting his clothes out.
Carter checked him and then closed the door softly on
his way out.

Robert had laid awake all night, staring in the
fire and mentally preparing himself, as he used to do in
India. He’d been in a duel before, in Seringatapam.
Another Captain had taken exception to an order of his
and called him out. Wellesley’s standing rule was ‘No
Duelling’ and Robert didn’t disagree, it cost the lives of
too many officers.

They had ridden away from camp and in the
heat of the midday, with the air oscillating between
them, they had squared off. Robert had been the most
inexperienced of the two and he’d fired first. He didn’t
snap the shot off as soon as he turned around, because
his second had told him not to, but he fired first.
Unfortunately for the other officer, with the heat
oscillation, Robert’s lead ball had entered his head right
between his eyes and the officer was dead before he hit
the ground. Disgusted with himself, Robert had
disconsolately climbed back on his horse and gone back
to camp to await a summons to Wellesley’s tent,
assuming he would be charged with murder and
executed. The days passed and in the end word filtered
down the line that the officer had been killed by the
Maharattas, so Robert could breath easy, not that it was
murder in the true sense of the word, but duelling was
against the law.

He heard the gentle tap on the door and climbed
carefully off the bed. He cracked the door to see Carter
standing there. ‘His Grace’s compliments, Your Grace
and would you like to use his facilities this morning?’

‘Yes. Thank you, Carter. Tell the Duke I shall be
with him directly.’ He looked back at Elizabeth quietly
sleeping as he picked up his boots, jacket and cravat. He
was just going to close the door when Mary arrived. She
said good morning quietly, went into Elizabeth’s room
and closed the door.

The Ducal apartment was across the corridor
and Robert followed Carter straight in.
‘Morning Robbie!’ Argyll said from his place at
the breakfast table. He was just finishing some tea.
‘Have a cup?’ he offered the tea pot and Robert
nodded.
It didn’t take him long to have a wash and
replace his shirt. He tied his cravat carefully, retied his
queue, pulled on his jacket and Carter brushed it down.
He pulled his boots on, that Carter had buffed. He
looked at himself in the long mirror. He looked like a
gentleman, almost a fop. Just like all the other rich men
in London. A part of him wanted to be wild and reckless.
To go and live in the country where he could wear what
he liked, instead of the rigorous fashions that London
imposed on them all. But responsibility wouldn’t let
him, and this morning he could feel the weight of that
responsibility. If it went wrong, the Dukedom of Roding
would end up with the crown and his Grandmother
would be forced out onto the street. His family would
disappear into obscurity and Elizabeth and his child
would be at the mercy of Alexander Audley.
He went to join Argyll and the two men stared at
each other. ‘If it should go wrong,’ Robert started and
Argyll tried to cut across him. ‘No, John. I would like you
to take care of my Grandmother. She will be distraught
enough at my death, without ending up on the streets.
Just let her live her life out on one of your small estates
somewhere, please?’
Argyll couldn’t possibly refuse his friend. ‘I will
take care of her, Elizabeth and your child, you have my
word.’ Argyll said softly, ‘but just let that idiot fire first,
then you can choose where to put your bullet.’
‘I have every intention of doing just that. But he
might be a crack shot, or he might just be lucky this
morning.’
‘Personally I don’t think he’s going to show.’
Argyll said with a laugh. ‘Well, shall we depart?’
They went down the magnificent staircase to the
main foyer, only to find Lady Verity and Lady Sarah
waiting to bid them goodbye. Sarah coyly kissed
Robert’s cheek and wished him well, but Verity hugged
him, like his mother would have done. Rogers brought
the cloaks and the pistol case. They donned their hats
and went out of the doors, down the steps, climbed in
and the carriage jerked into motion.

Elizabeth woke with a jerk. She lifted her head
and looked around, turned over and sat up. She looked
at Mary. ‘Where is Robert?’ she asked without thinking.

‘His Grace has left, My Lady.’ Mary said calmly.
‘Would you like some tea?’
‘Yes. Left to go where?’ she demanded and Mary
looked evasive as if she was trying to think of an excuse.
‘Damn! He’s gone to shoot Audley!’ Elizabeth said
harshly. ‘Oh! Damnation! Can’t men ever be
reasonable? Audley’s like a rutting stag and Robert has
suddenly come over all chivalrous?’ Elizabeth threw the
bedclothes aside and stood up. She winced but that was
all.
‘My Lady! The Doctor said you should remain in
bed.’
‘Mary, we both know this is not the first time
I’ve been whipped. Now is Lady Sarah up?’
‘I believe she is, My Lady.’
‘Good, go and ask her for her riding costume, the
one with britches. I need to see this duel.’ She poured
some water in the basin and suddenly looked at Mary.
‘Come on! Shake a leg. I have to see this. Now move!’
and she splashed cold water in her face and reached for
the soap.
Mary ran down to the Pink room and made her
mistress’s request. Sarah being Sarah, she didn’t want
to be left behind and immediately changed too. ‘It’s
lucky I have more than one set of riding clothes.’ She
said as she opened the door, but as her gaze fell on
Elizabeth’s back she sucked in a huge breath in shock.
‘My God! Doesn’t that hurt?’ she gasped.
‘It’s sore, yes.’ Elizabeth said and held her hand
out for the shirt. Quickly she dressed in the shirt,
stockings, britches and wrap over skirt, jacket and
boots. She left her hair in the plait and left the collar of
the shirt open.
As they strode down the stairs Lady Verity tried
to stop them. ‘Lady Verity. I cannot let him go to his
possible death without my favour.’ She said. ‘The
damned arrogant rake left without so much as a kiss this
morning and if he should die, I will never forgive him!’
Verity could see the tears standing on her eyelashes.
Sarah led her out to the stable and supervised
the saddling of a couple of horses and then the two
ladies were in the saddle and trotting down the mews.
‘Do you know where this duel is taking place?’
‘Hyde Park, I think.’
‘That’s a big park.’ Elizabeth muttered.
Robert had a lump in his gut. He usually had it
before an action started, but once the bullets started to
fly and the line moved, it vanished. In Flanders it had
been so bad he’d puked. He walked away from the line,
thrown up his breakfast and walked back. Nobody had
said anything, except his Sergeant, Burke, who had
shrugged his shoulders and said ‘Waste of a good
breakfast, Sir.’ In Seringatapam, he’d had the Bombay
trots and had to go, so again he left the line, dropped
his britches, emptied his bowels and returned to the
line. This time Burke had laughed. ‘Did you leave that
for the 33
^rd
, Sir?’ Robert smiled wickedly and replied.
‘No, the pipe major of the Highlanders!’
Now it was here again. The hard lump of terror
in his gut.
‘I have some bad news for you.’ Argyll said
calmly. Robert turned and looked at his friend in the
dark. ‘Beresford is back. He’s Audley’s second.’
‘Well, he can wait in line.’ Robert replied. ‘If he
hadn’t left his whore of a wife at home, he wouldn’t
have this problem. Did you explain that I wasn’t the only
one?’
‘I did. We’ll see if it makes any difference this
morning. But he may still call you out.’
‘Good. We can do it this morning and Abigail can
go and buy her widows weeds!’ Robert said harshly and
laughed roughly.
It didn’t take the coach long to get to Hyde Park.
The longest part of the journey was driving up Park
Lane. The carriage turned in at Cumberland Gate and
trotted down the northern road until the gate was out
of sight. Argyll rapped on the roof of the coach and it
pulled onto the grass. Argyll turned as Burke dropped
off the coach seat. ‘We’ll go over there amongst the
trees, Burke. Send them over when they arrive.’
‘Very good, Your Grace.’ Burke mumbled and
turned to Robert. ‘Be clever, Sir. Make him fire first.’ He
held out his hand.
‘I intend to, Burke.’ Robert said softly and shook
the offered hand.
‘I’ll be with you shortly, Sir and we can have a
brandy together.’ He nodded and followed Argyll
towards the trees.
The dew wetted his boots as his feet brushed
through the grass. He could just see the glimmer of
dawn in the east, like a lightening of the sky from black
to dark grey and the stars looked weaker, not so bright.
He stood and looked up at them, remembering the
times he laid on his back in India and stared at the
heavens.
Argyll picked the spot he liked and they stood
waiting for the dawn.