“Our lesson,” she whispered, her eyes haunted.“After tonight. I must find a husband quickly.”
“We will,” he assured.“Tomorrow, if you are able. I shall be waiting.”
And with that, she turned and rushed up the path toward her mother. Her pale skirts danced in the lantern light. He lingered, watching her depart.
What had transpired this night? Nothing had transpired. He had defended a young lady’s honor and protected her. That was all. He would’ve done it for anyone. He would’ve truly. He had to believe that.
After all, it would’ve been a monstrous thing to allow her to be in the arms of Drexel.
He turned on his booted heel and headed down the dark path toward the dark walk. He needed a moment away from the glitter of the dancing to collect himself.
As he strode deeper and deeper into the elaborate pleasure grounds, he stopped and looked up at the stars.
Finally, he was able to see a few of them. The night was clear, which was quite odd for London. He was glad it was on the cusp of summer, and he was glad he was alone.
He did not know what he was going to do about all of this.
Drexel had to be stopped.
A man like that seldom did until they got what they wanted.
He knew the madness of single-minded thinking. He’d seen it before, of course. It was why he disliked Drexel so entirely and why he’d been more than willing to beat the man into the ground if he had to.
And he still would. He would do whatever Jack needed. After all, he’d sworn to protect her, and he would not break that vow.
Chapter Fifteen
James lifted his perfectly polished dueling pistol, aimed at the target not twenty feet away, and fired. The pistol cracked, and the scent of acrid gunpowder filled the air.
Smoke enveloped him. He waited a moment, but knew that he had hit home. And as the smoke cleared, he spotted the shredded target.
He had indeed hit his mark.
“Well done,” said Blackbrook, standing beside him as he primed his own pistol.
“Thank you,” replied James. “How is your brother?”
Blackbrook put down his powder flask. “Very well, thank you. His fever and ill humors passed in a few hours and he was in the garden digging for worms by teatime.”
James nodded, relieved. The Peabody family did not need any more sorrows such as a serious illness.
He eyed the target across the field.
They both liked to practice together as often as possible. Now that Blackbrook had returned from the continent and his travels, they were once again able to.
Skilled shot was a good thing to have in one’s repertoire. He had fought a few duels. He did not particularly enjoy them, but sometimes they were a necessary part of life as a gentleman.
He always did his best to ensure that he shot a fellow in the arm or a similarly nonvital spot. Dueling pistols were not the most accurate or safest of weapons in the world. Really, truly, if one wished to have a great deal of control, one would choose a rapier. But one could not always control which weapon would be chosen.
And with that, Blackbrook aimed right at the target that he had just struck and, with remarkable ease, struck the spot James had shot.
His own lead ball exploded through the wood.
James cocked his head to the side. “Excellent. Well done.”
Blackbrook turned to him slowly. “Thank you. I trust I’ll never need to aim it at you?”
“I should hope not. Whyever would you suggest such a thing?” James asked, wondering if Alexander knew something he should not.