Authors: Nicole Jordan
When she raised her free hand to gently touch his injured jaw, Ash reassured her. “I’m fine—but I am worried about my grooms. I need to find them.”
Maura nodded in answer. Then, continuing to aim her pistol at her prisoners, she backed away just far enough to calm the frightened horses. Ash almost smiled. He should have known that the animals would be her chief priority, even above her own welfare.
She spoke soothingly to the beasts, bestowing a soft stroke here, a tender pat there. Then her eyes lifted to meet Ash’s, suddenly fierce as fire again. “They tried to kill you.”
“I wonder,” Ash replied thoughtfully.
He nudged the unconscious thug with his boot. Her attention directed downward, Maura inhaled a sharp breath at the man’s attire. “He is dressed in Deering’s colors! These are
his
servants!”
One was indeed wearing familiar livery, Ash realized. “I don’t doubt they are. Keep your pistol trained on these fellows, will you?”
“Gladly.”
“Don’t move if you value your life,” Ash advised the defeated bruisers who were still conscious.
While Maura stood guard over them, Ash made a quick check of the carriage house and found one of
his grooms on the floor behind his coach, clutching his head and groaning. Three other servants were tied and gagged in the tack room, including his coachman, Thomas.
After freeing his chagrined staff and devising a compress for his injured groom’s head, Ash returned to Maura’s side. Deering’s minions had remained perfectly still where they lay, but he could see they were quaking in fear at the punishment they would likely receive.
“Let’s tie them up and see what they have to say for themselves.”
In short order his own servants had accommodated his wishes, although none too gently, in payment for the harsh treatment they themselves had received earlier. Maura could then safely uncock her pistol and return it to her cloak pocket, and Ash was able to confirm what he’d suspected: The thugs were indeed employed by Viscount Deering. They had come on foot to infiltrate the Beaufort stables—their orders to disable the marquis’s servants and commandeer his coach, then incapacitate him for a time so he would be forced to forfeit the duel.
“See?” Ash said quietly to Maura. “Killing me was not their aim. They merely hoped to keep me from reaching our meeting.”
“For once I am in complete agreement with Deering,” Maura muttered. “I should have tried that method of forestalling you myself.”
Ignoring her gibe, Ash sent a stable lad for reinforcements from the house, then turned to his coachmen and quietly issued a new set of orders. Once Thomas
had climbed into the driver’s seat, Ash shepherded Maura into his coach.
“Just where are we going?” she asked, clearly none too happy.
“To the dueling field, of course.”
Her eyes glittered dangerously. “I am not letting you face Deering over pistols!”
“I daresay there will be no duel now. We have enough leverage over him to render him powerless.”
That gave her pause. “What do you mean?”
“Deering has violated our gentleman’s code of honor with a vengeance, and we have incontrovertible proof from his own servants. He won’t be able to cover up his machinations now.”
When she looked skeptical and unmollified, Ash adopted a conciliatory tone. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, love. I gather you followed me to the stables to prevent me from leaving—”
“I did indeed,” she agreed. “I saw you heading there from my bedchamber window, so I threw my cloak on over my clothes and brought my pistol in case you had already left and I had to trail you to the duel.”
“Well, I am very glad you came along when you did, since I’m not certain I could have managed to defeat Deering’s lackeys on my own.” Ash let his mouth curve into a grin. “I would say that you and I make a good team.”
Maura was having none of his pacifying, however. “How can you be so nonchalant? You could have died!”
“In truth, I am far from nonchalant. You were remarkably brave, but seeing that brute come after you took ten years off my life.”
“How do you think
I
felt, seeing them attacking you so viciously?” Maura demanded.
“I don’t know. How did you feel, love?”
“I wanted to hit you myself. I was right to be worried about you, Ash—and I was right not to trust you. You snuck out without even a farewell. I told you I do not want you risking your life for me!”
She looked incredibly beautiful and fierce just then, and Ash couldn’t help but feel gratified by her anger on his behalf. Not even his physical discomfort could subdue his high spirits. Although his jaw and ribs ached from the blows he’d taken, and his knuckles were raw from the blows he’d given, not to mention nearly having his head bashed in, Ash only felt elation.
And Maura’s fierce protectiveness was the cause.
She had the same reckless attitude as he, putting his safety above her own. Her pluckiness, her courage to overcome great odds all on her own, had always impressed him, as did her determination to fight for what she believed in. She was passionate and opinionated and tart-tongued and sometimes even violent … and she was so very, very dear to him.
She had proven herself his match in every way, and Ash knew only one manner to express his feelings for her: Take Maura in his arms and soothe her anger with his lips.
Maura’s fear subsided as Ash’s strong arms closed around her. She’d been deathly afraid, seeing him set upon by a pack of savage brutes. Now her overwhelming relief that he’d escaped serious injury was buoyed by the fervent hope that he would not have to duel.
And admittedly, she felt awed by how masterfully he
had dispatched his assailants. In all likelihood, Ash hadn’t even needed her intervention, despite his avowals to the contrary. When his kiss ended, Maura sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, signaling her surrender.
As Ash gently stroked her hair—which she’d had no time to pin up—she listened as he speculated on what had driven the assault. “Deering is a coward at heart, so it makes sense that he would try to engineer my forfeit. But he would gain in another way if I failed to meet him. I would be as much as admitting that I cheated during our card game. At least I now understand something that has puzzled me—why he would name Pelham as his second. He wanted a peer with an impeccable reputation to bear witness when I didn’t appear this morning. But having Pelham there should work to
our
advantage now.”
Shifting her head, Maura glanced up at Ash. “How so?”
His mouth curved faintly. “I don’t know if I should tell you, love. You won’t like my plan.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“When we arrive, I will act as though I mean to go through with the duel.”
When she started to object, Ash pressed a finger to her lips. “I am asking you to trust me once more, Maura.”
She searched his face, finding no sign of prevarication or smugness, merely tenderness and unshakable resolve. “Very well,” she agreed, reluctantly swallowing her reservations.
Some quarter hour later the coach slowed and turned
off the road onto a green field that was damp with mist.
The other primary participants were already present. In addition to Viscount Deering, Maura spied Ash’s cousin, the Earl of Traherne, standing next to a distinguished elderly gentleman whom she recognized as Lord Pelham from the incident in the park last week, when Deering had cruelly beaten her stallion.
Ash’s coach halted near the other carriages. Upon handing Maura down, he called her attention to the small crowd of spectators on the hillside overlooking the field.
“We have an audience,” Ash said dryly. “No doubt they are taking bets on the outcome of our duel.”
Maura shuddered at such morbid curiosity, but responded tartly to his observation. “What did you expect when duels attract such notoriety? You brazenly announced your intentions to the entire gaming club last night. By now most of London knows about your affair of honor being settled over pistols.”
Not denying the accusation, Ash shepherded her toward the edge of the field where Deering awaited. The viscount’s features were grim, possibly because his hopes had been dashed when his opponent had kept their appointment after all.
Deering scowled further as his gaze shifted from Ash to Maura. “What the devil is she doing here, Beaufort? Her presence here is completely unacceptable.”
“Granted, Miss Collyer’s attendance is irregular,” Ash replied with his blandest smile. “But I want her to have the pleasure of seeing me shoot you. Unless of course you have decided to recant your spurious accusations against her late father?”
Maura held her breath until Deering responded with a sneer.
“I have no intention of recanting.”
Disappointment flooded her, but Ash seemed to have expected that answer.
“As you like.” He nodded both to his cousin, Lord Traherne, and to Lord Pelham. “If you gentlemen will indulge me by waiting a few more minutes, I expect some guests to join us shortly.”
Deering immediately narrowed his brows. “What scheme is this, Beaufort? Why are you delaying?”
“Are you so anxious to die, Deering?” Ash countered silkily. Receiving no answer, he turned toward their seconds. “Meanwhile, I should like to examine the weapons if I may.”
Maura watched Lord Pelham step forward and offer a satinwood box, which contained an elegant matched set of long-barreled dueling pistols.
Traherne nodded his approval. She could tell that his sharp eyes hadn’t missed the bruises on his cousin’s face, but his casual tone belied his concern. “I have already checked the balance and sights, Ash, but you will want to do so for yourself.”
Ash complied, then asked about the specific rules for the duel—number of paces, order of firing, et cetera. The discussion made Maura extremely nervous, but Deering was unnerved also, judging from his tight expression, and that consoled her a small measure.
After final agreement was reached on the rules, little else was said between the duelists. By the time another handful of minutes passed, Deering was looking visibly irritated, and Maura felt her tension rising even
further. Even the crowd on the hillside was growing restless at the unexpected delay.
Then at last she heard the distant sounds of a horse-drawn vehicle approaching. Maura turned to watch a wagon roll onto the field and lumber across the grass toward them. She counted half a dozen occupants—three whom she recognized as Ash’s servants, plus the three liveried thugs whose hands and feet were bound.
Deering blanched at the sight of his incapacitated minions, much to Maura’s satisfaction and Ash’s obvious enjoyment.
“I see you understand how drastically our respective circumstances have changed,” Ash commented as the wagon came to a stop near the carriages.
“I haven’t a clue what you are talking about,” Deering snapped, trying to bluster his way out of the net that was closing around him.
“Oh, come now. You may as well give up your pretense of innocence. Your lackeys have turned against you and confessed.”
“What did they confess?” Traherne asked curiously.
Ash continued staring at the viscount. “Why don’t you explain, Deering?”
“I have nothing to say. This is a complete fabrication. You manufactured their lies—”
“Pray, spare us your sham claims of victimhood,” Ash interrupted. Evidently losing patience, he summarized what had happened in his stables that morning, concluding with his speculation as to why Deering had ordered the attack. Traherne’s momentary surprise was followed by a soft chuckle, while Pelham seemed repulsed.
“Is this true?” Pelham demanded of the viscount. “You sought to make Beaufort forfeit the duel?”
Deering glanced behind him at his barouche, as if contemplating making his escape. Knowing he’d been caught red-handed, he was clearly desperate to be anywhere else at the moment.
Ash continued to press his case. “As you see, you failed in your aim to disable me. However, under certain conditions, I might be willing to overlook your assault on me and keep quiet about the entire affair.”
“What conditions?” Deering asked warily.
“First, you will admit your guilt to Miss Collyer—unequivocally, right now—by confessing the role you played in her father’s downfall and why. You were the one who cheated two years ago, not Noah Collyer, because you coveted his prize stallion. Is that correct?”
When Deering hesitated, Ash prodded. “We are waiting, Rupert … and do speak up. I want Lord Pelham to hear your admission for himself so you cannot rescind it later.”
Under clear duress, the viscount ground out his words. “I admit I am guilty of cheating Collyer in order to gain possession of his stallion.”
Maura couldn’t help curling her fists as she took a step toward Deering. “You treacherous coward,” she said in a trembling voice. “You knew my father was innocent all along, but your despicable accusations led to his death.”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.
“See, that was not so difficult, was it?” Ash taunted.
Deering glared daggers at him. “Is my admission adequate?”
“Not quite. I want two signed copies of your confession
to keep as insurance—one for myself and one for Lord Pelham,” Ash said before addressing Pelham. “I would ask that you keep his account confidential for the time being, my lord.”
Pelham frowned. “You will let his contemptible deeds go unpunished?”
“I did not say that precisely. I am not quite so noble. No, I want three more things from Deering in exchange for our silence.” He turned back to the viscount. “Next, you will sign over the stallion’s deed of sale to Miss Collyer. Then you will make a public apology to her—today, in writing—withdrawing the charges you made two years ago against her father and absolving him of all suspicion of cheating. I want to see a retraction in this evening’s newspapers.”
“Very well,” Deering said grimly.
“And lastly, by week’s end, you will take an extended trip to the continent and not show your face in England for the next decade.”
When his final condition sank in, Deering erupted, practically sputtering in outrage. “You cannot expect me to leave my home!”