Pistols at Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page B

grimace. One had only to look at the earl to realize the justness of her anger. By all accounts Killingworth was naught but a drunkard and rake. Talk of his outrageous luck at the gaming tables had reached even so small a village as Chertwell. As had word of his prowess in the boudoirs of Town. And yet, he was the one who had the power to decide what justice was. Why, with no more than a curt word, he could affect the course of their lives and—
    Eliza stopped herself from such pointless railing. There would be time enough later to dwell on the shortcomings of the earl and his ilk. Right now she had best go in to her sister.
    Meredith was bent over a large iron kettle. "Are they gone?" she asked softly as she stirred a mixture of chopped herbs into the boiling water.
    "Yes." Eliza brushed a lock of a hair from her sister's cheek. "And I doubt very much whether they shall return."
    Meredith essayed a smile. "You certainly raked His Lordship over the coals. Though I'm not sure it was quite wise to risk igniting his ire. After all, since he owns the living to the parish, he does have the power to turn us out from this cottage if he so chooses."
    "Let him try," she muttered.
    Another handful of greens went into the brew. "You needn't be so worried about me, you know. I am not quite so fragile as you think." Meredith added a crumble of willowbark. "I—I imagine it will take some time before the nightmares fade, or before I can see a man approach without flinching. But I shall get over it." She forced her chin up. "Something of value may have been stolen from me, but I shall not let anyone take away what is really important—my self-respect."
    Eliza's voice caught in her throat. "I shall take care never to underestimate you again, Merry. Thank heaven that your special gift for healing people extends to yourself as well." She shook her head. "How is it that you are so wise beyond your years?"
    "Perhaps because I have been listening to you for so long."
    They exchanged fierce hugs, then Meredith dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. "Let us bring Mama her tisane."
    "I'll do it, if you would rather lie down." Eliza touched her sister's swollen eye.
    "I—I would rather keep busy. And you needn't worry that Mama is going to be upset by my appearance. I already told her that I fell along the riverbank while foraging for cress."
    "Brave girl," murmured Eliza. "Come then, we'll go together."
    * * *
    "Well, it appears you have more luck than you deserve." The earl waved a brusque signal to his coachman. "You may escape this sordid business without any consequences. Though I warn you, the lady may well change her mind on thinking the matter over. If she does, I shall still expect you to do your duty." He clamped his high crowned beaver hat back on his head. "In the future," he added harshly, "I shall also expect you to control your drinking and to sheath your sword in naught but willing scabbards. If anything like this happens again, I'll see you shipped off to some godforsaken plantation in Jamaica, do you understand me?"
    Lucien's only reply was a stifled groan as he grabbed for the carriage door. His fingers slipped on the latch and he fell heavily against the lacquered wood. "Sweet Jesus," he groaned. "Did you see that poor girl's face? And the way she looked at me as if I were some sort of depraved... monster?" His fist hit the paneling. "I can't believe I could ever have done such a horrible thing to another person. I—"
    A violent retching cut off his words. It was several moments before the young man managed to gain control of his heaving stomach.
    Marcus's expression, though unchanged, seemed to soften slightly. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and thrust it into Lucien's hand before helping him into the carriage. Once inside, his nephew turned away and slumped back against the squabs, eyes closed, the silk square pressed to his lips.
    The earl was not unhappy with the prospect of silence for the journey home.