Losing the Earl: Regency Romance Clean Read (Yearnings for Love Book 2) (6 page)

He was her husband now. But he looked repulsive to her. She swallowed hard.

“Come now, it is time for you to do your wifely duties…” 

Mary did the only thing she could think to do; she turned and ran from her husband.

The hallway was endless; her feet only able to carry her so fast. He began to close. Her lungs exploding with each stride as she tried to flee. The smell of ambergris filled her nose. The fragrance had gone from pleasant to putrid, assaulting her, the smell entering her mind; it teemed inside of her and permeated everything.

“Come here my wife and let me show you what a real man is like.”

The faster she would run the closer he got; his stink enveloped her. She wanted away from him so badly. If even his hand touched her…she shivered thinking about his touch.

His hand closed on her shoulder.

***

Shouting opened Mary’s eyes. Outside, a clear sky mixed stars with pre-dawn blue. Lucy was snoring but that wasn’t the sound that woke her. It would be another hour before Dahlia would be in to help her dress. A pounding noise started, the same sound that woke her from her sleep a minute ago.

“I demand satisfaction!”

Mary got out of bed. She opened the door quietly. With the door cracked, she pressed against it with both hands to door to prevent creaking. She held her breath as she watched Samuel standing outside of William’s door.

He pounded on the door again, “You sir are a coward, and I demand satisfaction. Open this door.” Samuel was dressed, but his hair was a mess and his eyes reddened from lack of sleep. He noticed Mary. “Man is a coward, he refuses to even face me.” 

William’s door opened. “No you pig's behind, I wanted to dress and face you in something other than a night shirt. However, I have no objection to you standing in the hallway acting like a drunken village idiot. I will rush nothing on account of you. Not even your demise.” William looked calm.

“It is not dawn yet sir, I suggest that you be ready for our duel.”

“No, you suggest nothing to me. I refuse to fight you.” He yawned. “Least not until after breakfast, I don’t want to die on an empty stomach. Or for that matter, I don’t want to kill you on an empty stomach either. I’m sure as a hunter you are confident in your abilities with a pistol. So I’m going to have me a nice, big breakfast and enjoy it. Then, sir, I will deliver to you what you seem so eager to seek.”

“What? Then you are a coward? Admit it.” Samuel’s look was daggers.

“I admit you have the courage of a man that preys on weakness.” He started to close the door. “I’m sure all the stable boys at your estate fear your buggery.”

Mary almost couldn’t believe her ears. This was too much. For both.

“You go too far, retract your statement!” Samuel grabbed William by his shirt collar and pushed him into his room. Mary heard someone falter a step and curse, followed by the sound of William laughing. 

“BLAST!” Samuel shouted, as he walked out of William’s room with a chamber pot stuck on his foot. He straightened his shirt and pretended nothing had happened before turning to march off. As he hobbled down the hallway with the chamber pot on one foot, doors opened and heads turned to watch him.

William called after, “You can keep that when you're emptying it, it fits you well.” William smiled seeing Mary, “He’ll be all yours to deal with… or maybe he won’t. I hope you hold none of this against me.”

She felt like smiling back, but kept reserved. “He will find comfort in the bed he has made.”

“I boast nothing when I say, it might not be a bed he rests in.”

“C'est la vie.”

“Non, c'est la mort. But I shouldn’t joke.”

Mary closed her door again. Lucy was sitting up on her bed blinking, only half-awake.

Mary sighed. “Lucy, I think I’m terrible person.” She didn’t know whether to be worried, cry from confusion, or laugh herself silly. It was all a fine mess.

Chapter 11

Samuel tapped his fingers against the table while William, with a plate full of bacon, ate grinning after every bite. Every couple swallows he chased with beer.

Samuel was trying harder to keep his cool. He seemed more…apprehensive. “You know, I don’t see why you’ve entered this pact with me. American’s always lose at pistols, just take your—what do you call it?—Vice President, Alexander Hamilton, slain by his treasury secretary Mr. Aaron Burr in a duel. Was it pistols as well?”

“I think your logic is flawed,” said William.

“How so?”

“First off, Alexander Hamilton was the Secretary of the Treasury, and Aaron Burr was the Vice President. Second, they are both Americans, so when Hamilton fell dead at the hands of Burr; an American still won the duel. You really should eat something you know.” William stuffed more bacon into his face and swigged down more beer.

Mary worried, “Should you really be drinking libations before such a contest?”

Samuel’s frowned in her direction. She wondered if her tone betrayed her. She composed herself.

“My father, a merchant, commissioned a 38-gun frigate for war. He did this because, in his words, as the target of piracy, a brutal and direct statement will be made in response to attacks on our lifeblood. I admit to terror in my heart at sailing halfway across the world with two-hundred and twenty men. Being thirteen years of age, barely a man and living in close quarters with men who stank on all accounts of rum and sweat…well, it was frightening. The first time I had to shoot at a man, I remember it because I wanted to miss, but I did not have the choice. I say this with no pride; I remember the man, all the men I’ve had to lay low, the ships we sank. Even though they were pirates, in sleep sometimes I can hear them, in the water, begging to board our ship. The promises they made, trying to tempt us with knowledge of fortunes. I can say as a boy I fought in the Barbary War, only the last two years of it. Anytime we’d prepare for a conflict the men on board would be sure to have at the rum. Not so much to lose control but enough to take the edge off. You should certainly eat. It might make it easier for you to relax.”

“Why not skip your meal so we can get this over with? Or are you so desperate to enjoy your liquid courage?”

“Samuel, have you any military experience?” William asked.

“Sir, I’ve been hunting since childhood. I’m sure I can draw down on a man just as quickly as you can, and without the benefit of drink to set my mind at ease.”

“Well, I’m not much for hunting and I’ve only been in one other duel, kind of a requisite of the US Navy. Barbary pirates fire back; I have never had that experience when shooting at deer. Though that would be far better odds for the deer. Unfair, is it not? They should make guns for the deer to shoot at the hunters.”

“When you are in combat sir, men stand and face each other. They make themselves targets; I wonder how good your aim is when trying to draw on a moving target.”

“For what it is worth, it’s only harder to hit target running from side to side, but when a target is running away it’s not that hard.” He stared hard at Samuel.

“You do not mean that you would shoot a man in the back. Surely that is the action of a coward.”

“If a man is challenged to duel and his opponent is running away then I think it not. You aren’t going to run are you?”

“I look forward to satisfaction. You don’t understand privilege; you don’t understand what it means to serve, to know your place. Nor do you know anything nobility—the problem with your America.”

“You should really have some bacon, and some beer, even men before the gallows receive a last meal. I don’t see dueling with you as something to be taken lightly.”

“My valet may already be back with a doctor as required. I hardly think—”

“Good,” William interrupted. “But if at any time you wish to bow out…I think it more than fair, merely apologize.”

“I will soon bugger every horse that rode you in on.”

“With the four of them I assume you’ll be done in just as many minutes,” said William. “I pity my horses however.”

***

After breakfast Samuel headed up to his bedroom, Mary followed him; they were the only people on the second floor as the rest of the household were outside in knee-high snow waiting. Hearing her behind him William turned.

“Making sure I’ve got no tricks up my sleeve?” He asked with a smile.

“May I make a confession?”

“Confess you may, however I may not know the proper amount of Our Fathers to recommend.”

“I hope neither of you lose. I don’t want you to die.”

“That makes two of us but why tell me this?”

“The man is a bore. Despite being a lord he acts base in behavior.”

“Are you not about to become Lady of wherever he is from?”

“It stopped snowing, I would hate for you to leave.”

He grabbed her then, gently pulling her close. She felt his chest expanding against her as he breathed. Her heart raced; feeling light-headed she closed her eyes. She felt William’s face so close to her cheek. His breath tickled her neck under her ear. He whispered, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He kissed her then, but unlike in her dream, his lips did not deliver phantom kisses, but sensations she could feel.

Heat blossomed in her face. She barely struggled and gave into the moment by kissing him back. Everything wrong was right. In his arms, there was no longer any terrible future slated for her or obligation to be the visage of a proper English woman. There had become just the present and herself. 

“I’m sorry. I meant you no disrespect,” said William, pulling away.

In a moment it was over, and shock and silence took over at what had just happened.

All a fine mess indeed.

Chapter 12

The two dozen guests formed a straight line. Duels were more private, but something about this demanded attention. A table was set up in front of her father. Samuel paced in the snow on the other side. On the table sat a wooden box.

Mary exited her house and walked to Lucy and Victoria who stood behind her father. For a moment, Mary worried how it looked, her not waiting with Samuel but inside. She asked William to take his time before coming out of the house. The sun reflecting off the snow hurt her eyes, and she had to squint for a few moments while she adjusted. 

William came out of the house and shielded his own eyes. He started towards the table, following the tracks her guests made in the snow. He didn’t rush. Mary delighted in how this annoyed Samuel, but she also wanted the stress of the contest to be over.

She didn’t want Samuel dead, she just didn’t want to have to spend the rest of her life with him. What if Samuel got a shot off and he killed William? If she had to spend the rest of her life with Samuel, it would be bearable knowing her William was alive, maybe on a ship somewhere. She could even receive letters and drawings from his travels about.

The dueling pistols were her fathers. He unlocked then opened the teakwood box. Samuel grabbed the pistol closest to William and gave it a look over. He cocked the hammer then triggered it verifying the pistol’s flint would spark. He put it back in the box. Samuel then picked up the other pistol in the box and looked it over.

William picked up the pistol left for him and cocked and fired the empty weapon. He half-cocked it, poured powder down the barrel, then finished loading. He did this without acknowledging Samuel who was still loading his own.

“With respect for the weapons owner,” said William, “I’d prefer not to enter into this contest without a test fire. Would you mind if I put a ball into your dying crabapple?”

That tree is far off,
thought Mary.
He must be joking.

Her father nodded and William cocked the gun.

“Surely you jest. A target that far off—” started Samuel.

But William raised his hand and fired in one smooth motion. Even flinching Mary still witnessed the shot hit the crabapple tree and blow a good chunk of the rotting trunk to pieces.

“I hope it doesn't get back up,” muttered William. He half-cocked the gun and began reloading.

The two men moved to stand back to back.

“Gentlemen, I shall begin counting off your ten paces…” Mary’s father explained the rules of engagement.

“Pardon, but I would like to give my opponent every opportunity for fairness. If he is such a superior hunter, would it not be to his advantage to count twenty paces?” William asked.

“I’m fine with it, let’s just get this over with.”

William nodded, agreeing.

The men cocked their pistols and Mary’s father began counting. The men marched in opposite directions. With each number, her father counted it felt like he was placing a brick on Mary’s chest asphyxiating her.

“Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen…”

Samuel turned, not waiting to twenty, aimed at William with his back to him, Mary screamed as the sound of his flintlock exploded and flame burst from the muzzle. Her father stopped counting, there was commotion in the crowd as William turned. His coat was dark and with his back to Mary, she would not be able to see where he had been hit. Squinting from the sun glaring off the snow did not make it any easier.