Georgina Devon – The Rake's Redemption (страница 13)
Stockton was tall and thin, with a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He looked like a youth even though Charles knew him to be at least George’s age. His clothes were of the latest style. His Hessians gleamed in the watery sunlight coming through the nearby window. A quizzing glass hung from his waistcoat pocket and his gloves were pristine. His shirt points were high enough to make it impossible for him to turn his head. A dandy.
Stockton took one of those immaculate gloves from his hand, the gesture not as smooth as Charles knew the man would have liked. The fine kid-leather stuck as though Stockton’s palm sweated.
A tiny cruel smile formed on Charles’s perfect mouth. Anticipation tightened his gut. He refused to think about the emotion or wonder why he felt it. He just waited.
A quick swipe and Stockton’s white glove slapped Charles’s jaw. The impact made a sound like that of a shot, and though it wasn’t loud, Charles was sure every man in the room heard it.
‘That is for introducing my sisters to Harriette Wilson. The entire town is talking about them.’
Fury leached the colour from Charles’s face. Stockton was right, he shouldn’t have introduced the women to the courtesan and particularly not in Rotten Row. Still, a challenge was a challenge.
‘Pistols,’ Charles stated without hesitation.
As the one challenged, it was his right to choose the weapon. He would have preferred fists for the sheer pleasure of the physical exertion, but that was more ungentlemanly than even he was prepared to go. Nor was it considered a duel, and this was a duel.
‘Send your second ’round.’ Stockton’s voice was flat, his face so pale the freckles stood out like splotches. ‘Do not see my sister from this point on.’
Charles’s smile widened, showing white, predatory teeth in a slash. ‘I shall do as I please, when I please, Stockton. Best you learn that now.’
Stockton pivoted on the heel of his boot and strode off, not sparing a glance for anyone else. Charles wondered that the man left what appeared to be a game of chance, a pastime Stockton preferred before all others.
‘The fox is in with the hens now,’ George said dryly. ‘I’ve seen you do some harebrained things before, but this takes the wager. Whatever got into you?’
Charles shrugged and swallowed down the remainder of the port in one long gulp that made his Adam’s apple move above the perfect crease of his cravat. ‘The man irritates me. Always has.’
George frowned. ‘You don’t even know the man above a passing acquaintance.’
Charles looked sideways at his brother as he carefully set the empty glass on the table. ‘I know about the man. That is enough.’
George shook his head. ‘Don’t you mean, you know his sister?’
Charles glanced around, saw all the attention still on them and motioned with his hand. ‘White’s isn’t the place to discuss this.’
George moved to the door. ‘This wasn’t the place for any of this.’
They collected their beaver hats, canes and top coats from the servant and exited onto St. James Street. Charles set his hat at an angle and swung his ebony cane with its silver tip. Now that it was done, he felt a fierce gladness. There was no going back from a duel of honour.
‘It isn’t your place.’ George’s sober voice intruded on Charles’s thoughts. ‘Stockton had the right of it. You have been paying a too marked attention toward Amy Stockton. She’s barely out of the schoolroom. It isn’t like you to pursue someone of her innocence. Nor is it proper. And that is just for starters. I won’t mention the introduction which is indeed the latest crim con.’
Heat rose in Charles’s cheeks. ‘Was it right for you to pursue Rose when you were engaged to Miss Stockton?’
‘No.’
‘Then leave off, George. Stockton is a cad who has wagered his family fortune until there is nothing left. Emma Stockton became engaged to you in hopes you’d bail her family out of debt. When you put her in the untenable position of having to call off the engagement because of your far from respectable behaviour, you put paid to that plan. Now she is considered the spinster on the shelf and Miss Amy is the fatted calf set on the Marriage Mart as the sacrifice for her father and brother’s vices.’
George’s voice cut sarcastically through Charles’s tirade. ‘And you have appointed yourself seducer and knight in shining armour all in one package? You’re overdoing it.’
Some of the jauntiness left Charles’s walk. He knew George was right. What George had done had been wrong, but that didn’t make what Charles had just done right.
George continued. ‘Not to mention what this duel will do to Miss Amy and Miss Stockton’s reputations when it gets about. As you say, Miss Stockton is on the shelf, but Miss Amy had the opportunity to make an advantageous marriage.’
‘Had being the key word?’
Disgust at George’s honesty and his own stupidity made Charles as sarcastic as his brother. He had botched things up, but there was no going back. If he retracted his acceptance of the duel, he’d be branded a coward and his standing in the ton ruined. All the social pleasures he enjoyed would be denied him. His way of life would be over. He was not ready to give that up merely to keep from meeting Bertram Stockton at dawn.
They were halfway to George’s town house when the rain started. ‘Bloody nasty ending to a bloody nasty day,’ Charles groused.
George looked at his younger brother, who had never been known for his patience and often known for his impassioned impetuosity. ‘You can still back down.’
‘No. I can’t.’ Charles stared at the rain-slicked cobbles, feeling the water drip from the brim of his beaver hat. He slapped his thigh with the ebony cane and cursed his own stupidity. ‘It would ruin me.’
‘I see.’
Charles stopped and rounded on his brother. ‘No, you don’t. You have everything. I have to make my own way in the world. I am doing that through trade. Already I am on the fringes of acceptable society. If I were branded a coward, not even my male friends would acknowledge me. Bertram Stockton isn’t worth the sacrifice.’
George’s eyes widened and he stepped back. ‘I didn’t realise you felt that way. I can arrange a larger settlement for you.’
Charles sighed and ran a hand down his face, wiping away the water that dripped from the brim of his hat. ‘No. No. I don’t envy you the inheritance. Never have. But I never want to repeat my stay in the Fleet. And my business investments will ensure that.’ He paused. ‘If I back down, I will be a laughing stock. It is bad enough already being a criminal.’
His mouth twisted. He turned away and stepped forward, trying to ignore the fact that things were getting too complicated.
A carriage pulled up alongside them and one of the windows opened. Adam Glenfinning leaned out.
‘Care for a ride?’
George grinned. ‘You are in the nick of time. I can feel the wet sinking through my coat, and I know it has ruined my boots.’
Charles scowled at the man who had recently married his sister. ‘I’ll walk, thank you.’
Adam looked at him as though he wanted to say something very scathing. ‘Suit yourself, old man.’
George glanced at Charles. ‘I’ll walk with you then.’
‘No,’ Charles said. ‘Go with Adam. Just because I am deranged enough to stay in this downpour doesn’t mean you should.’
George studied his brother for a long moment. ‘I’ll see you at the house then.’
Charles nodded and waved them on, continuing to trudge through the wet. The last thing he should have done was to provoke Bertram Stockton into challenging him. He had honestly not thought the man had the stomach to do so. He had misjudged him and now he had to face the man and delope for he could not in good conscience shoot the man when he was right. And he had to consider what to do about the reputations of the two Stockton sisters. He was the worst thing that could have happened to them.
He groaned. This was complicated.
Inside the carriage, George sat opposite Adam and took off his wet beaver. ‘Ruined.’
‘I wasn’t in the nick of time?’ Adam said with a sardonic twist of very fine lips.
His brown eyes held a glint of amusement that went very well with the deep creases bracketing them. He was a large man with not an ounce of fat on him. Unlike his wife’s brothers, he was not a style setter, but his clothes were wellmade and well-fitted.
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