The Earl's Complete Surrender (28 page)

“You'd best forget about doing any such thing,” Lady Oakland told her son sternly. “We're going to have a lovely celebration for you and Sarah.”

Spencer sighed with apparent resignation while Woodford offered Chloe his arm. “Let's give an account of everything else that's happened as quickly as possible so we can retire,” he whispered softly in her ear.

“But it's only eight o'clock! It's much too early for bed,” she replied, her own voice equally low so her parents wouldn't hear their scandalous exchange.

“When you're young and in love, as we are, it's never too early,” he said as he guided her forward, following her parents and Spencer back inside Thorncliff. Discreetly, he brushed his lips against the side of her neck, sending frissons of heat straight to her bones. “You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Chloe.”

A surge of warmth curled its way through her. “As are you,” she told him sincerely, not caring that there were witnesses present as she rose up onto her toes and kissed him with all the love and gratitude she felt for him.

They filed into the nearest parlor where happiness was quickly replaced by wariness when Lady Dewfield appeared, strolling forward with regal poise until she faced Chloe. “Where's Hains­worth,” she asked without preamble.

“Not here,” Chloe said.

She started to turn away but Lady Dewfield caught her by the arm. Her eyes flashed with anger. “You will answer my question satisfactorily, Lady Newbury. I know that he followed you and Woodford to London.”

“Then why don't you ask me?” Woodford asked, stepping closer to Chloe.

A smile tugged at Lady Dewfield's lips. “My lord.”

“Your Grace, from now on,” Woodford said.

Hushed silence settled around them as everyone present absorbed this piece of information. Lady Dewfield's eyes brightened. “I've always liked you,” she purred.

“In answer to your question,” Woodford said, ignoring her advances, “Hainsworth has been apprehended for treason.”

A collective gasp rose through the air, though not from Lady Dewfield. Her jaw just tightened while her eyes darkened with uninhibited fury. She glared at Chloe. “First Newbury and now Hains­worth.” She snorted. “From the looks of it, you've even managed to snatch Woodford away from me.”

“Have you no shame?” Woodford asked in a low whisper. “I don't know what Hainsworth saw in you and I certainly wouldn't have considered associating with you in any capacity myself.”

“You'll never be able to keep him,” Lady Dewfield told Chloe. “And I will never stop trying to steal him away from you.”

“You won't succeed,” Chloe told her stiffly.

“I'm sure you had similar thoughts about Newbury in the beginning,” she countered.

“That's quite enough,” Lady Duncaster said, stepping forward so she could join the conversation. “I won't allow you to bully my guests.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lady Dewfield said, “but Lady Newbury—­”

“The Duchess of Stonegate,” Woodford bit out.

Lady Dewfield bowed her head in acknowledgment of the title. “Very well, Your Grace, the
Duchess
has wronged me, and I demand satisfaction.”

“That's absurd,” Chloe's father said from his position by the fireplace.

“I doubt you'd think so if you were in my position,” Lady Dewfield said with a theatrical sniff.

“Hainsworth was a traitor—­a murderous scoundrel,” Woodford said. “Her Grace may have helped me discover that, but I am the one who shot him and had him apprehended. You cannot blame her.”

“Very well,” Lady Dewfield acquiesced, “but she did steal Newbury away from me, and now you.”

“As I've said, you had no chance where I am concerned.”

“And yet I voiced a distinct interest in you and now look where we are. She's happily married again to a man on whom I'd set my sights.”

Chloe drew a shuddering breath. “That is not the way I see it.”

“Of course it isn't,” Lady Dewfield hissed. “You were the belle of the ball in your first Season—­a diamond of the first water—­while I was stuck in my widow weeds after my husband's recent death. Newbury didn't give me the chance I deserved—­not when you kept appearing at his side with your batting eyelashes and blushing cheeks.”

“It wasn't like that,” Chloe said, cringing at the image Lady Dewfield presented.

“It was
exactly
like that,” she said with a glower. “You chased him with the sole purpose of winning him for yourself, heedless of anyone else's feelings.”

“You don't have to listen to this,” Woodford said, stepping between Chloe and Lady Dewfield. “If I may, Lady Duncaster, I would like to suggest that Lady Dewfield be escorted up to her room and that she depart Thorncliff at the earliest opportunity.”

“Agreed,” Lady Duncaster said.

“Not before
she
gives me what
I
want,” Lady Dewfield said, pointing a finger in Chloe's direction. “I told you that I demand satisfaction and I shall have it, for all the pain you've caused me over the years.”

“This is madness,” Chloe murmured as her mother came to stand beside her.

“I'm challenging you,” Lady Dewfield announced. “We'll duel tomorrow at dawn.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Chloe's father asked.

“Pick your weapon,” Lady Dewfield said, crossing her arms.

Stepping aside, Woodford faced Chloe. “You can apologize. Nobody will think less of you for it.”

Chloe considered her options. Woodford was right, and yet . . . “I can take her,” she whispered. The moment she said it, she knew not only that she was right, but she also felt an immediate thrill of potential victory rushing through her. She'd just been given the chance to beat the woman who'd humiliated her for so long.

“Let's think about this,” Woodford cautioned.

“There's nothing to think about,” Spencer said, voicing his own opinion in the typical fashion of an older brother. “My sister isn't going to duel against you, Lady Dewfield.”

“Yes I am,” Chloe said. The room fell completely silent. “We'll fight with swords until first blood if that is acceptable.”

“Woodford . . . Your Grace,” Spencer said. “Can you please talk some sense into your wife? She'll listen to you, I'm certain of it.”

Stepping closer to Chloe, Woodford put his arm around her. “She's made her choice, Spencer, and I trust her judgment.” Chloe's heart swelled with love for him as he looked her in the eye. “Will you let me be your second?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“It's settled then,” Lady Dewfield said. Turning her back on them all, she chuckled as she glided from the room.

“Dear me,” Lady Duncaster said. “It seems that Thorncliff has become quite the center of excitement.”

“This,” Chloe's father said, “is the sort of excitement I'd rather do without.”

Nobody argued with him on that point.

Later that evening . . .

“I
t's not too late for you to back out of this,” Woodford said as he walked up behind Chloe.

Standing by the window in the bedchamber they now shared as husband and wife, she stared out at the garden beyond. It looked so peaceful—­the water of the lake completely still, like a pane of glass. “You said that you trust my judgment. Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” he said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She leaned back against him, reassured by his solidity. “I'm just worried for you. That's all.”

A new and unfamiliar sensation for him, no doubt, considering he'd never really had to worry about anyone else before. “I'll be fine,” she said. “It's not to the death, after all.”

His arm came around her in a tight embrace. “I know, but I still don't like it.”

“Do you know what I like?” she asked, turning in his arms.

“Me?” His eyes were warm like drops of melted caramel.

She smiled. “I more than like you, Your Grace.”

“Really? Tell me more.”

Her smile widened. “I love you with all that I am. What I like and appreciate—­what makes me love you even more—­is that you're willing to let me do this. I doubt that any other husband would, and if I weren't married, I'm confident that my brother and father would have me locked away to prevent me from meeting Lady Dewfield tomorrow.”

His hand touched her cheek. A soft caress that turned her insides to honey. “As you've probably realized, I'm not like most men.”

“And I am grateful for that.” Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his.

“Having had the profession I've had,” he said when she sank back down on her feet, “I find it difficult to relate to most of Society's strictures. They just seem so insignificant when compared to what you and I have just been through, for instance. More importantly, perhaps, I understand why you feel the need to do this.”

Her love for him increased with every word he spoke. “You're the best thing that's ever happened to me,” she said.

“I feel the same way about you.” His fingers moved to the neckline of her gown. “You may have a duel to fight tomorrow, Duchess, but right now, you're mine. This is after all our wedding night, and I intend to make the most of it.

A soft shiver sailed down her spine with the expectation of what was to come. And then he kissed her, filling her mind with only him. His left arm locked behind her back, holding her firmly in place while his right hand trailed down her side and over her hip. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips reverently, and with the same degree of longing that she felt for him.

“As I love you.”

No words had ever been so honestly spoken, even if they failed to convey the emotion that poured through her like a frothing river following a downpour. And since words were not enough, Chloe said nothing more. Instead, she gave herself up to the pleasure of kisses and caresses while her husband removed the remaining barriers between them, allowing them to love each other in the most honest way possible.

 

Chapter 24

A
low mist crawled across the ground the following morning as Chloe followed Woodford on horseback, riding along a narrow path that would lead them through the woods to an open field beyond. Breaking out of the trees, Chloe saw that Lady Dewfield was already present. She was joined by one of Lady Duncaster's footmen who'd apparently agreed to being her second. Lady Duncaster herself stood to the left, dressed in her usual Louis the Fifteenth style, with a large pink feather protruding from her elaborate wig. She was flanked by two footmen on either side.

“Good morning,” Lady Dewfield said as Chloe and Woodford dismounted. “I'm so glad you're finally here since I'd rather begun to think that you might have changed your mind.”

“Doing so never even crossed my mind,” Chloe said.

“If you're ready,” Lady Duncaster said, approaching the two ladies with a footman who carried a large case, “I should like to get this spectacle over with so I can go and enjoy my breakfast.”

“Of course,” Lady Dewfield said.

The footman flipped the lid of the case, revealing two identical swords. Chloe selected the one closest to her while Lady Dewfield picked up the other. Lady Duncaster then proceeded to lay out the rules, which were few, save for the fact that attacking while the opponent was unprepared, unarmed, or with their back turned, would lead to immediate disqualification. “This fight is until first blood only,” she added. “If either of you harms the other beyond that, you'll pay the price. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly,” Lady Dewfield said.

Chloe nodded.

“Very well then,” Lady Duncaster said. “You may begin.”

Chloe started toward the center of the field but a hand pulled her back. Turning, she met her husband's steady gaze. “Remember what I told you,” he whispered. “Keep your shoulders back and your chin up. Don't underestimate her—­there's no telling how good she might be.”

A horse neighed and Chloe glanced beyond Woodford's shoulder to find her brother riding toward them. “Stop this right now,” he yelled.

“I'll deal with him,” Woodford told her. He gave her a hasty kiss and squeezed her hand. “Good luck.”

Thanking him, Chloe strode forward to meet her opponent. “Ready?” she asked Lady Dewfield.

The widow took up an expert fencing position. “En garde.”

Chloe's confidence wavered a moment, but soon returned the moment her sword engaged with Lady Dewfield's. She was good, well-­trained, it seemed, but not as skilled as Chloe had feared. The more they parried and countered, the more certain Chloe became that they were equally matched.

Keeping her eyes on the tip of Lady Dewfield's blade at all times, Chloe was able to avoid the attempts Lady Dewfield made at wounding her as Chloe continuously kept up her guard, waiting for just the right moment. It finally came when Lady Dewfield decided that Chloe's only strategy was defense. Lowering her own guard, the widow attempted a move meant to force Chloe back with the likely outcome of tripping her so she'd fall and leave herself vulnerable. It was an attack, not entirely dissimilar to the one Blake had used on Woodford.

Recalling Woodford's strategy and how well it had worked, Chloe leapt aside the moment Lady Dewfield thrust her sword toward her. She spun back and counterattacked with a low cut that sliced open Lady Dewfield's skirt, wounding her calf. For a second, there was nothing but silence as Lady Dewfield dropped her gaze to assess herself. Noting the blood, she raised her eyes to Chloe who immediately stepped back the moment she saw her venomous expression. “No,” Lady Dewfield said, shaking her head. “It cannot end like this. I will not let it end like this.”

With a furious scream she launched toward Chloe who blocked the attack with her sword. Fear quickened her pulse at the realization that Lady Dewfield meant to harm her, possibly kill her, the moment she had the chance. She was mildly aware of violent shouts shaking the air and of ­people rushing toward them, but she dared not look at them—­dared not take her eyes off Lady Dewfield for even a second.

A shot sounded, but it had no effect. Dodging and swerving, Chloe realized that Lady Dewfield had lost all sense of reason. She attacked again, this time striking Chloe's arm and producing a sharp pain that weakened her limbs. “Please stop,” Chloe begged, unsure of how much longer she'd be able to ward off her opponent.

“I'll see you in hell,” Lady Dewfield snarled, moving forward again and preparing to thrust. But the strike never came as strong arms grabbed hold of her and forced her onto the ground.

Struggling for breath, Chloe watched as Woodford and Spencer disarmed Lady Dewfield. Chloe dropped her own weapon, her body shaking as tears began spilling from her eyes.

“Your brother was right,” Woodford said, leaving Lady Dewfield to Spencer and the footmen so that he could pull Chloe into his arms. “I never should have let you do this.”

“I would have resented you if you hadn't.”

His chest shuddered against her cheek. “I know, but the thought of possibly losing you when I saw what she was doing . . .” His voice broke and he tightened his arms around her.

“But you were here,” she whispered. “I never would have attempted this if you hadn't been.”

“Spencer's going to be furious with both of us.”

Chloe nodded and stepped back. “I know, but that's because he doesn't understand. This wasn't just about the past. It was also about the future.”

Woodford frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She threatened to take you away from me,” Chloe said simply.

“You know that would be impossible.”

“I do, but I still had to assert myself, not just for my own peace of mind, but to let her know that she has no power over me any longer—­that she'd best keep her distance if she knows what's good for her.”

Raising his chin, Woodford gave her the same look he'd given her a number of times already—­it was one of respect and admiration. “You fought well,” he said. “I'm proud of you.”

Reaching up, she pulled his head down for a long and sensual kiss. “Will you see to my wound for me?” she asked him slyly as they started back toward Thorncliff, both seated on Woodford's horse while hers trailed behind.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he murmured gruffly.

She blushed in response to the innuendo, the anticipation of welcoming his administrations already heating her blood. “I love you,” she said. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

“And I love you,” he replied, tightening his hold around her and kissing her fondly on the cheek. “I always will.”