Enlightened (23 page)

David busied himself, selecting a chair and easing himself carefully into it. The last few days and nights had taken a toll upon him, and he found himself leaning on his cane more than usual.

When he looked up, he caught Will watching him, a fact that made him feel uncomfortable and oddly resentful.

“So,” he said evenly, “I’ve never been involved in a matter like this before, but I understand we’re supposed to ascertain if the disagreement between our principals is capable of resolution before we make the arrangements, are we not?”

Will gazed at him for a long moment, then he said, “It’s an unhappy situation. Lord Murdo forced Sir Alasdair to make that challenge, and everyone knows it. If the duel proceeds and Sir Alasdair is killed, it will be nothing short of murder. The only honourable way out is for Balfour to offer an apology.”

“As to that, Lord Murdo is only prepared to offer an apology on certain conditions,” David replied smoothly. “In return, however, Kinnell will get his apology and his honour will be satisfied without any risk to his person. Since Lord Murdo is intent upon withdrawing from society after this incident, Kinnell will not be brought face-to-face with any reminder of it again.”

“What sort of conditions?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. Lord Murdo is only prepared to discuss them with Kinnell. I am merely instructed to convey to you that if Kinnell is willing to explore matters further, Lord Murdo will call upon him today at two o’clock this afternoon.” David paused. “If not, I will return this evening to discuss arrangements for them to meet.”

Will raised an eyebrow, though, to his credit, he did not probe for more information. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll pass the message on and send a note to let you know his answer.”

They stared at one another for a long, uncomfortable moment. As quick as that their business was over—it hadn’t been worth the effort of sitting down after all.

“I’ll take my leave, then, and await hearing from you further,” David said. “I’m staying with Lord Murdo at his house on Curzon Street, if you could send word there.” He braced his hands on his thighs and levered himself up, suppressing a wince and reaching for his cane.

Will rose too. “I must say, I find it very curious,” he said.

“What?”

“Lord Murdo’s announcement regarding Kinnell’s wife. I didn’t think—well, to be frank, I didn’t think he favoured women.”

David met Will’s familiar green gaze but said nothing.

“And you’re staying with him…” Will added, letting his words trail off meaningfully.

Although he’d expected this, David found he still balked at the other man’s intrusiveness.

“After my accident, I accepted a position at Lord Murdo’s estate in Perthshire to deal with some legal matters for him,” David said mildly. “It suited me while I was recuperating.”

“Come on, Davy,” Will said, drawing closer. His eyes danced with amusement and barely concealed sexual interest. “It can’t be a coincidence. I
know
you, remember?” He stretched out his hand and touched David’s forearm, stroking his palm upwards. “I know what you are. And if you’ve spent any time with Murdo Balfour, you won’t be the same shy boy I once knew.”

David felt sick, watching him, seeing the flirtatious look in his gaze and the promise in that stroking hand.

“You’ve certainly changed,” David got out from behind numb lips. “You used to be quite shy yourself.”

“Ah, well, that was back when I was petrified of my own shadow. I’ve changed since then. Marriage can be curiously liberating.”

“Does your wife think so?”

Will’s lips tightened, but he shrugged, feigning unconcern. “Her opinion hardly matters.”

And wasn’t that telling? Perhaps it was no wonder he and Kinnell were friends.

David stepped back, and Will’s arm fell down, useless between them.

“I have to go,” David said. “I have other matters to attend to today.” That was a lie, but David didn’t care. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to leave.

“That’s a shame,” Will replied warmly, seeming undeterred by David’s blatant lack of interest. “Once this duel is dealt with, perhaps we could meet up? Not here, of course, but there’s a hotel I know that’s discreet and reliable…”

David felt ill at the thought. “I don’t think so.”

Will’s face flushed at David’s rejection. “Is this because of what happened before?” he said, “With your father? For God’s sake, Davy, we were sixteen. What did you expect?”

I expected you not to lie about your own part in that kiss.

I expected you not to leave me to face the consequences of what happened alone.

Once upon a time, he’d wanted to say that to Will, and more besides. He’d wanted to demand answers. And maybe, stupidly, he’d hoped for an explanation that he could become reconciled to, that could allow him to love Will again.

Not now.

Now he just wanted to forget he’d ever known him. And refusing to answer his question felt like a little bit of revenge for all those pleading letters he’d sent years before, none of which had ever prompted a single response.

“As I said,” David repeated, “I really must go.”

“It won’t last, you know,” Will said. “Murdo Balfour might fancy you now, but his interest will fade. He’s had more men than I’ve had hot suppers, and one day he’ll get married, just like me. Our sort always do.”

For a moment, David stared at him, at this long-lost love of his.

He was a stranger. A blandly handsome man of means, surrounded by his Turkish rugs and leather-bound books. A man with riches and a well-bred wife and two children already in the nursery.

Perhaps he had everything he wanted.

David thought of the old Will, then—of the beautiful boy whose green eyes used to dance with humour and affection as he and David played like otters in the swimming hole at home.

Silently, in his heart, he bid that boy farewell.

Will stepped forward. “Davy—”

But David was already turning away.

“Good-bye, Will,” he said. And when he walked out the door, he left his old memories behind.

Euan insisted on going with them to Kinnell’s townhouse, though he agreed to stay in the carriage.

“But if this plan of yours fails,” he said as the carriage came to a halt at its destination, “and that bastard ends up putting a bullet in you out on Hampstead Heath, I won’t rest until I’ve stuck a knife in his guts and ended his miserable existence.”

“Not going to happen,” Murdo replied without hesitation. “He’ll jump at the chance to get out of this, and if he doesn’t, he’ll be the one to die on the heath, I can assure you of that.”

His confidence seemed to ease Euan’s tension, if only a little. The other man nodded his agreement and let them climb out of the carriage without any further protest.

The butler who answered the door was plainly expecting them. He showed them into a large, well-appointed study. It was big enough for both a huge desk and a round meeting table ringed with six chairs.

“Sir Alasdair will be with you directly,” the butler said.

Once he had gone and closed the door behind himself, Murdo turned to David, elevating a brow. “Five guineas says he’ll make us wait.”

Despite everything—despite David’s gut-deep worry about the prospect of Murdo facing Kinnell holding a loaded gun—Murdo himself seemed unconcerned. Amused even. His attitude infuriated and reassured David in equal measure.

Murdo was right about one thing. Kinnell did keep them waiting. It was almost twenty minutes before the man appeared. He was tidily turned out but did not look well. His face was grey with fatigue, drawn with worry. He couldn’t have looked more different from Murdo if he’d tried.

During the wait, Murdo had sat himself down at the table with a book from one of the shelves that lined the room. He looked up at Kinnell’s appearance in the doorway, but did not rise from his chair. In fact, he leaned back and propped his boots up on the table.

“Ah, Sir Alasdair! You grace us with your presence at last,” he said. “But where is your second? Sir William, isn’t it?”

David watched Kinnell’s reaction to Murdo’s comment, noting the minute signs of mingled irritation and fear—the tensing of his jaw, the warily watchful gaze.

“I prefer not to afford you an audience,” he said.

“Very wise,” Murdo agreed amiably. “You will not like some of what I have to say, and you certainly wouldn’t want Sir William to hear it.”

Kinnell walked round the table to select the chair farthest from Murdo before he sat down. “Sir William said you’re prepared to apologise,” he said, his tone clipped, businesslike. “Though only on certain conditions. What are the conditions?”

“Two things only,” Murdo replied. “And both easily given. Firstly, I want Elizabeth. She will come away with me today when I leave this house. Secondly, I want you to divorce her.”

Kinnell stared at him, plainly shocked. “You—you cannot ask that of me,” he said at last.

Murdo leaned forward, his expression deadly serious. “I don’t ask it. I demand it. If you want to get out of meeting me over pistols at dawn, you will agree.” He gave an ugly smile. “After all, you know I’ll win.”

Kinnell flushed with anger. “That’s an outrageous demand. I’ve every right to an apology.
You
insulted
me
! I am the innocent party here!”

Murdo reached across the table, seizing Kinnell’s upper arm and yanking him forward till their faces were inches apart.

“You are not innocent!” he hissed. “You are a vicious bastard. You were vicious when you were a boy, and you’re still vicious now. If you think I’ve forgotten the misery you heaped on me when I was smaller and weaker than you, you are very much mistaken.” He pushed his face closer. “
Believe me
, nothing will give me greater pleasure than to put a bullet in you and remove you from the face of the earth. Whether or not you agree to my terms, your wife
will
be freed from this marriage. The only thing that’s standing between you and your very imminent death is my wish to remove her from this house today. So I suggest you make the most of my very generous offer. I only have to wait another day or two to kill you, and I’m beginning to think it may be worth it.”

When he released Kinnell, the other man fell back against his chair with a thud. His face was white with fear.

“How am I supposed to divorce her?” Kinnell mumbled at last.

“You can name me as her paramour. I won’t protest. Given what happened at Culzeans last evening, you’ll have ample evidence to support your case, not to mention the sympathy of your peers. Elizabeth will be maligned as an adulteress, of course”—he looked Kinnell directly in the eyes—“but I’m sure she’d rather live with disapproval than fear.”

“It’ll cost me a fortune.”

Murdo shrugged. “You can afford it. Sell her jewellery. She doesn’t need it anymore.”

Kinnell’s lips thinned, and his eyes glittered with malice. “You’ll be maligned too. You’ll be
ruined
. No one in polite society will acknowledge you again.”

For an instant, Murdo paused. It wasn’t long enough for Kinnell to notice, but David saw the brief hesitation, and he knew that in that instant Murdo counted the cost of all this to himself.

Then Murdo smiled.

“Touched as I am by your concern, I can assure you that you don’t need to worry about me,” he said coolly. “Now, if you are prepared to accept my offer, Mr. Lauriston here will draw up an agreement while we wait. If not, I’ll be seeing you on Hampstead Heath at dawn. What’s it to be?”

Chapter Nineteen

Whereas: the First Party acknowledges and admits that he has conducted adulterous relations with Lady Elizabeth Kinnell…

The ink was still wet on Murdo’s and Kinnell’s signatures when Kinnell turned on his heel and strode out of the study. When they followed him out a minute later, he was already gone. The butler, however, was hurrying towards them.

“Sir Alasdair has suggested that you wait for her ladyship in the hall,” he said when he reached them. “If you would care to follow me, she will only be a few minutes.”

And whereas: the Second Party acknowledges that he has subjected the said Lady Elizabeth Kinnell to cruel and inhumane treatment…

The butler wasn’t wrong. Less than ten minutes later, Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs, walking behind a stiff-faced footman, her head bowed. When she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up, she gave a tremulous smile, only to flinch at David’s indrawn breath and Murdo’s hissed curse.

She was in a sorry state. One eye blackened, her mouth swollen and cut. God only knew what other injuries her clothing disguised. David could only hope that the child she carried was unharmed.

Now, therefore, the parties do hereby agree as follows…

It was just as well Kinnell had already removed himself, or David would have launched himself at the man, bad leg be damned. Suppressed rage had him clutching too tightly the agreement he’d just drawn up, and he had to force himself to loosen his grip. The agreement was for Elizabeth’s protection, after all. He folded the papers and tucked them into the pocket of his coat before stepping forward.