The way Sebastian saw it, he had two choices. Shoot for Knighton’s hand, and trust to his own control and ability to hit the man exactly right. Or deliberately shoot wide and trust that Knighton wouldn’t kill him. Give up control of the situation in favor of Juliet’s dubious faith in her family.
Knighton’s second moved to where he was out of the line of fire, but could be seen by both men. Taking out his handkerchief, he slowly lifted it into the air.
Sebastian glanced over to the women. They stood at the ready, too, with pistols at their hips, though both were pale. Yes, they were bluffing, but there was something so endearing, so noble in their determination to save their men from themselves that he realized he had no choice at all.
I trust you to do the right thing. Show me that you trust me, too.
The handkerchief dropped. Sebastian raised his gun and fired.
At a bush beyond Knighton, some two hundred yards off.
As the smoke cleared, he realized that Knighton hadn’t yet fired. The man’s arm was raised, he stood there frozen, but his finger was still on the trigger and his pistol was aimed straight at Sebastian’s heart.
Sebastian caught his breath, but said nothing, did nothing, his own hand still poised in the air. His blood thundered in his ears, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he’d just made an enormous error in judgment.
Then he saw something shift in Knighton’s eyes, and he knew he was safe. She’d been right about Knighton, after all.
“You don’t deserve this, you know,” Knighton growled.
“I know.”
“I ought to make you suffer the way Juliet has suffered for the past two years.”
“Or you could give me the chance to make it up to her. Because I want nothing more in this life than to do that.”
Knighton hesitated another long moment before uttering a frustrated curse. “I know I’m going to regret this. But I suppose we can’t have our women doing anything foolish out of pique. Especially when they’re brandishing pistols.”
With a self-deprecating smile, he raised his arm and fired into the air.
Sebastian let out his breath in a long whoosh. The women cheered. The doctor and the seconds, though more subdued in their response, made it clear that they, too, approved of the outcome.
A moment later, Sebastian was assaulted by a fast-moving
bundle of lilac-scented woman. Laughing, he caught Juliet around the waist and swung her into his arms.
“You love me!” she cried, her face aglow. “You really do!”
“Of course I do,” he answered. “What man in his right mind wouldn’t?”
She eyed him askance. “You weren’t always in your right mind, for I seem to remember you telling me time and again that—”
He kissed her hard, until she melted in his arms. When he drew back, he murmured, “I’m in my right mind now. After all, we can’t have you marrying a madman.”
“Now see here, Templemore,” Knighton said beyond them. “One thing at a time. I’m not so sure you deserve to marry my sister-in-law.” His wife, now plastered to his side, punched him in the arm. He rolled his eyes. “On the other hand—”
“On the other hand,” Lady Rosalind put in, “as long as you can prove that you can support her—”
Juliet giggled.
“—and treat her well—” Knighton continued.
“—and promise to bring her often to London to visit her relations—” Lady Rosalind added.
“—and make amends to Daniel and Helena for all the danger you put
them
in,” Knighton said, then scowled. “Damnation, what am I thinking? You’re a scoundrel and a kidnapper—”
“—who I’m marrying, no matter what you say,” Juliet retorted stoutly. “So that’s the end of this discussion. You will now hush up and give us your blessing, Griff Knighton, or I’ll forget about any wedding and we’ll simply elope. Again. This very minute.”
“Which might not be such a bad idea,” Sebastian grumbled under his breath.
But Knighton’s scowl had softened considerably dur
ing her speech. “All right. I suppose I can give the man a chance.”
“I promise to do right by her,” Sebastian said. “You’ve naught to fear on that score.”
“We’ll see,” Knighton said, but Sebastian knew the man had conceded, especially when Knighton added, “Now let’s find someplace a bit warmer for this discussion.”
Everyone wholeheartedly agreed.
“If you’ll all follow my carriage to my townhouse,” Sebastian said, “I’d be happy to provide breakfast for everyone. God knows it’s time my staff got used to entertaining.” He glanced down at Juliet. “Since it looks as if I’ll be doing it often in the future.”
Though the doctor and Knighton’s second demurred, saying they’d best be home, the others accepted his plan readily. As they headed for the carriages, Griff said dryly, “Montfort will be so disappointed to hear that we both returned alive.”
“I wonder if he went out to Leicester Fields,” Sebastian remarked. “If he did, I can’t wait to see his face when we walk into some social affair together.”
“Not me,” Juliet said quietly. “I never want to see that man again.”
Juliet meant it, too. She was sure that if it hadn’t been for the duke, she and Sebastian could have avoided all this duel business. Though she was relieved by the outcome, for one horrible, heart-stopping moment, she’d feared the worst.
Now she gazed up into Sebastian’s face, her heart warming when he smiled down at her. “At least it’s all over, thank goodness,” she murmured.
But she’d spoken too soon. They arrived at Sebastian’s townhouse to find that chaos had ensued while they were out at Wimbledon Common. As soon as Sebastian brought her inside, he was greeted by the one man neither of them had expected to see. His uncle.
“For God’s sake, where have you been at this hour?” Mr. Pryce commented before Sebastian could say a word. Then his eyes widened as Griff and Rosalind came in behind, followed by Sebastian’s valet. “What are they all doing here?”
“I was going to ask you what
you’re
doing here,” Sebastian snapped. “You were supposed to be waiting in Shropshire for Morgan.”
Mr. Pryce blinked, as if surprised by Sebastian’s referring to his brother in front of the others. “Er…Morgan’s here. I brought him. We’ve been riding hard for three days to get here, after I told him all the foolishness you’d been involved in.” He scanned the group of them. “I suppose they all know the truth now?”
“Yes,” Sebastian answered. “So exactly where
is
the scoundrel?”
“In the drawing room. With that bloody Montfort.”
The sound of heated arguing wafted to them—the soft, faintly Continental accents of a stranger, and a haughty, irate voice that was only too familiar. With a scowl, Sebastian headed toward the drawing room, Juliet right on his heels.
Mr. Pryce followed along beside them. “The duke forced his way in a few minutes ago, along with some scoundrel friends of his, demanding to see you and babbling something about a duel. I was out here looking for the footmen to oust him when you walked in.”
The voices rose as they approached the open door.
“I tell you,” Montfort was saying, “I
saw
you challenge Knighton last night and I heard him accept the challenge with my own ears! And why the dickens are you speaking in that awful accent, Templemore?”
“Because I’m not Templemore. I keep telling you. I’m his…”
“Brother,” Sebastian finished for him as he entered the
drawing room. “Good morning, Montfort. What brings
you
here?”
Montfort had five of his gossiping cronies with him, and as soon as Griff came in behind Sebastian, he cried to them, “Aha! You see? There’s Templemore and Knighton now! I told you they fought a duel!”
Griff, bless his soul, didn’t miss a beat. He looked at Sebastian with a perfect expression of bewilderment. “What’s he talking about? You know anything about a duel?”
Sebastian shrugged. “No idea. I can’t imagine what possessed him to think it.”
Montfort scowled blackly. Casting his smirking friends a quelling glance, he growled, “Then why are the two of you coming in here shortly after dawn—”
“With my wife and my sister-in-law?” Griff finished for him. “Really, Montfort, do you think I’d allow my womenfolk at a duel? We’ve been at my house ever since we left Lady Brumley’s. Lord Templemore proposed to my wife’s sister last night, and we’ve been celebrating the engagement.”
Sliding his arm possessively about Juliet’s waist, Sebastian took up the tale, clearly eager to get the man out of his house so he could talk to his brother. “Then I invited them over here for some breakfast. I’d invite you to stay, too, old fellow, but this is…well, family. You understand.”
As Montfort began to turn an alarming shade of purple, his friends exchanged weary looks. One of them clapped his hand on the duke’s shoulder. “Come on, man, let’s go home—can’t you see you were mistaken?”
“I was not mistaken!” Montfort protested. “I know what I heard, damn it!”
“First it was all that back and forth nonsense about Lady Juliet eloping,” one of his friends grumbled as he began hauling Montfort toward the door, “then some wild tale about her being kidnapped by Templemore, and
then this duel you invented and dragged us all out of bed to see—”
“It’s the truth! The truth, I tell you!” Montfort shouted as two of his friends grabbed each of his arms and carried him out. He was still shouting it as they dragged him out the front door.
As soon as he was gone, Rosalind grinned. “That was very entertaining. I don’t think anybody will listen to
him
much anymore.”
Juliet couldn’t stop laughing. “No, indeed,” she gasped out. “Sebastian, my love, you’re the most inventive man I’ve ever met.”
“Which doesn’t bode well for his character,” Griff put in.
“Here now, Knighton, you started the lie in the first place,” Sebastian protested.
Morgan spoke up from where he stood near the settee. “Would somebody like to tell me what’s going on?”
For the first time since she’d entered, Juliet had the chance to survey Morgan Pryce, the man who’d unwittingly set all the painful—and not so painful—events of the past two years in motion. It was astonishing how much he resembled Sebastian—same black eyes, same square chin, same seductive lips. If his hair hadn’t been several inches longer and his clothing not quite so rakish, she would’ve sworn he was his brother.
Until she looked more closely. Then she would have noticed the hint of worldliness in his face, and the faint but unmistakable cynicism to his smile. Sebastian had been lots of things in all the time she’d known him. Cynical wasn’t one of them. Morgan looked as if the world had chewed him up and spit him out one too many times.
Then he caught her staring, and gave an elaborate bow. “Mademoiselle. May I assume that you’re the lovely
jeune fille
who was harmed by my foolish brother?”
He had the strangest accent, not a foreign one exactly, but English tempered with other influences. Yet his French was perfect, at least to her untrained ears.
“Your assumption is
almost
correct,” Sebastian retorted, a slight edge to his voice. “Morgan, this is Lady Juliet, my fiancée. Juliet, this is my rapscallion of a brother.”
Coming forward, Morgan took her hand and pressed a kiss to it continental-style, his eyes twinkling up at her. “
Enchanté,
mademoiselle.”
She couldn’t help laughing, and Sebastian’s arm tightened about her waist. “That’s enough, you rascal,” Sebastian growled. “After all you’ve put us through, you don’t even deserve to speak to her.”
“
Moi
?” Morgan protested. “
Mon frere,
I’m not the one who kidnapped her or carried her into a den of smugglers. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking to save
you,
blast it all!” Sebastian said sourly. “Speaking of which, you shouldn’t have let Montfort and his friends see you just yet. The Navy Board will hear of it, and they’ll have your head before I can stop them. Unless you agree to turn over that Pirate Lord fellow to them.”
Morgan shrugged. “They’ll have to find somebody else for that. The Pirate Lord saved me from a boring existence on an island off the coast of Africa where Crouch’s seamen marooned me. Thanks to the Pirate Lord, who found me there, I was able to travel to the Cape Verdes and on to England. Besides, I understand he’s decided to retire from piracy on that very island.” Sebastian opened his mouth, and Morgan said in a steely tone, “And no, I won’t tell you where it is. I owe the man. I won’t repay him with betrayal.”
Juliet had to stifle her smile. He sounded very much like his brother.
“But the Navy Board—” Sebastian began.
“The Navy Board won’t lift a hand to me when I tell them what I learned on the
Oceana.
It seems Crouch had a source high up in the navy who tipped him off that I was spying on him. So if they give me trouble over my association with the Pirate Lord, I’ll gladly reveal their own rascal’s name to every newspaper in London. I’ll create a scandal so rank they’ll never live it down. I’m sure the citizens of England will be very interested to hear who’s been enabling the smugglers to operate all this time.”
Sebastian stood there stunned. “Do you mean to tell me—”
“That I managed fine without you? That I can take care of myself? Yes,
mon frere,
I do. If I’d known you were taking such steps…” He gave a Gallic shrug, then smiled at Juliet. “And to abduct such an
angelique, magnifique
—”
“Remind me not to let your brother anywhere near my wife,” Griff said behind them. “And here I thought
you
were the gallant one, Templemore.”
Sebastian began to laugh. It started as a sort of hiccup, but quickly grew to gasps of laughter that had Juliet staring at him in frank alarm. “Sebastian? My love?”
“I lived with smugglers…for
weeks
…” he choked out. “I kidnapped an innocent…I lied…I fought a duel…and for this? Oh God, it’s too much…”
“Will you excuse us a moment?” Juliet murmured as she pulled the gasping Sebastian past their combined relations and out of the drawing room. When she had him completely alone, she shook him a little. “Are you all right? Sebastian?”