Only Scandal Will Do (15 page)

Jack’s face was more solemn than when their father had died. “He did change things, Kat, though you do not realize it. What was scandal for a few days in Virginia will be a scandal for years here in London. Lord Dalbury knows first-hand how even a scandal not directly connected to a person, can ruin a reputation. And in the
ton
, reputation is everything. Should your disgrace be discovered, you would not be received in polite society. Neither would I be able to marry and continue the family line with a woman of good breeding.”

“Then we must make sure the scandal dies here and now. No one else knows...” But Dr. Pritchett did know, and Reginald Matthews certainly suspected. They might be trusted to keep their silence, but did anyone else know?

“But we cannot be sure of that, can we, Lady Katarina?” Dalbury broke into her thoughts. “You have very distinctive hair. Many might remember it from the auction when they see you.” The marquess seemed determined to spread gloom and doom.

“Many women have this shade of hair, my lord. And we were both masked. You were in a black cape, so who would recognize you?”

“Katarina.” Jack’s voice sounded deeper with sadness. “Even if no one ever suspected a thing, there would still be your honor to be avenged.”

“Avenged?” The word sounded alarm bells. “As in a duel? Jack, are you mad?”

“I am in deadly earnest. Lord Dalbury, by his own admission, compromised your reputation. Ruined you, in fact, for any other man to consider taking you to wife. This breach of honor may be satisfied either by Lord Dalbury marrying you, an offer you refused, or by my challenging him. And if I challenge him, the scandal becomes public.”

“Then do not challenge him.” He wasn’t making sense.

Jack’s usually sunny face contorted into a snarl, making her recoil in her chair. She’d never had such a look from him in her life.

“Would you have me branded a coward, Katarina?” Anger stabbed through each word. “Only a coward would refuse to uphold his sister’s honor.”

“But no one would know.” She barely mustered a whisper.

“I would know!” Jack thundered. “And he would know.” A curt nod indicated Dalbury. “And you and whoever else is involved in this whole damned business would know.” His stare froze her in her chair. “Either you marry him, Kat, or I challenge him.”

Chapter 13

“You’re bluffing!” Kat’s outrage at her brother’s ultimatum overrode her fear at the thought of him dueling with Dalbury.

“Will you marry the man or not, Katarina?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. She closed it slowly, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Jack.

Jack’s mouth tightened, but he turned to Dalbury without hesitation and stood. “You will meet me, then, my lord?”

Dalbury rose to his feet as well. “I will, Lord Manning. As the choice of weapon goes to the challenged party, I choose rapiers. Your seconds?”

Shock blurred her vision and Jack became a pinprick of light surrounded by darkness. Her heart pounded as chills ran down her arms. Frozen, she could only listen, horrified, as they calmly laid their plans. She wanted to scream at them, to pummel Jack, to wound Dalbury again, on the other cheek this time. Anything to make them see reason.

Jack paused at Dalbury’s last question. “I’ll speak to Braeton. I assume one of yours is Tommy Redmond, or I’d ask him.”

“Yes, Tommy will stand my second, and Lord Trevor.”

Dalbury seemed as deadly earnest as Jack. Her building anger finally released her from the maddening inertia, and she shot out of her seat, ready to do battle with both men. “Jack, this charade has gone far enough.” Her vexation with her brother sounded loudly in the small room. “You cannot do this. I will not allow it.”

He swung around toward her, his eyes aflame. “Then will you marry the man and be done with it?” At her silence, he made a sound of disgust. “Then kindly shut up, Kat. This is my business.” He turned back to Dalbury, the calm facade returning. “When, sir?”

“Tomorrow. Dawn is the accustomed time. St. James Park by the duck pond is a popular spot.” He paused. “I have fought there twice.”

Jack remained impassive but at the marquess’s words, her legs almost buckled. She grasped the back of her chair and somehow found the courage to ask, “Were they duels to the death, my lord?”

“One was. The other was to first blood.”

Kat gasped. “Then it need not be to the death?”

Dalbury shook his head, the look in his eyes enigmatic.

“Then you will fight to first blood, Jack. And there will be an end to this.”

Jack stood before her, his face like granite. “I told you this is my business.” He shifted his attention to Dalbury, who stood relaxed, ready, waiting. “I prefer to fight to the death, my lord. Grievous was the offense, so grievous must be the remedy.”

“Nooo,” she wailed. “No, Jack, damn it. You will not do this. You cannot fight him to the death over me. It would be the same as if I killed you myself.”

“Many thanks for that vote of confidence, dear sister.” Jack’s tone dripped ice. “You’re so kind to give my opponent your assessment of my skills.”

“You are being stubborn and you know it.” She moved closer to him, so her words would be private. “You do not have to fight him to the death. And if you insist on it, he will kill you. I know him well enough to assure you of that. He’s all whipcord and steel, with reflexes like a lightning strike. I told him at the time–”

Neither man had considered the challenge might not be Jack’s to make. She turned to Dalbury, hardly able to contain her glee. “You have fought several duels, my lord, have you not?”

“Yes, I have had more than my share it seems,” he said, watching her closely.

“Does the wronged person issue the challenge or do his relatives?”

Dalbury smiled. “No, my lady. The wronged man is the one to issue the challenge.”

Kat smiled triumphantly. “Then, my lord, my brother must rescind his challenge, for it is not his to make.”

Jack stared at her as though she had taken leave of her senses. “Not mine to make? If it is not my challenge to make, whose is it?”

“Mine.”

The word had the impact of a bomb exploded on a sunny afternoon in the park. Jack’s face went red, Dalbury’s white and both yelled simultaneously, “Katarina!”

“You are certainly a candidate for Bedlam.” Jack was beyond livid. “Women do not fight duels, do they, Dalbury?”

“No.” The marquess sounded as shocked by her claim as Jack. “I have never heard of a woman participating in a duel of any kind with a man.”

“Why not?” The question was certainly valid, but neither man thought so, to judge by their faces.

“It’s just not done,” her brother protested.

“That’s not an answer, Jack.” Anger built again. “What is your excuse, Lord Dalbury? Why can a woman not issue a challenge?”

“A woman does not challenge a man in order to defend her own honor because usually she is not capable of fighting. And the code of dueling prohibits it, in any case,” Dalbury replied, a speculative gleam in his eye. “In this instance, however, the former circumstance does not appear to be the case.”

He paused and shot a look at Jack. “So you declare it is your right to defend your honor, Lady Katarina?”

“It is not her right. It is mine, damnit!” Jack’s face worked with rage. “You cannot play with her this way, Dalbury. I forbid it.”

“Jack, if I have to fight you first to issue this challenge, I’ll do it,” Kat said. “And I’ve bested you before, remember? Do not interfere.”

When Jack would have stomped out of the room in disgust, Dalbury caught his sleeve. “I still need a chaperone, Manning. Things are complicated enough without her being compromised while issuing a challenge to defend her honor.”

Jack growled some oath under his breath, and shook off Dalbury’s hand, but stayed in the room.

Kat approached Dalbury, standing before him willingly for the first time. “Do you accept my challenge, my lord?” She had itched to cross swords with him since March. Now the opportunity hung on a single word.

“I fear that honor, and the code, prohibit me from doing so, my lady.” When she sputtered with indignation, he raised a hand to forestall her. “However, there is nothing to prevent us from conducting a fencing
match
with a wager attached. One that would mirror the outcome of a duel, had it been fought.”

The desire to face the marquess, sword in hand, increased with each minute she considered the possibility. Even if it was not a duel per se, if it would satisfy Jack’s sense of honor and appease her lust to fight Dalbury, she would agree to the terms. “Very well, my lord. I will wager my skill with a sword against yours.”

“And your terms, my lady?” the marquess asked. “We will not fight to the death. I have no qualms about killing a man, and while I may reluctantly wound a woman, I will not kill one.” His grin made him almost boyish.

“I too am reluctant to take a life, Lord Dalbury,” she chuckled, “even yours.”

“We then fight to first blood?”

“Agreed.”

“And if I win, your forfeit is that you will agree to marry me.”

Kat shivered at the words, but managed to steady herself. She had expected that stipulation. “And if I win, your forfeit is to allow me to return to Virginia and not seek me out ever after.”

The set of Dalbury’s mouth said he did not want to agree, but she stared him down. If she could give up so much, then so could he. She held his gaze until he gave a reluctant nod. “Since we will carry this out in the spirit of a duel, may I ask for your seconds, my lord?”

“As before, Tommy Redmond and Lord Trevor. I suppose your second will be your brother?”

What if Jack sabotaged her? Locked her in her room to make her miss the duel just so he could fight in her stead? No, there must be someone else. Jack’s face had deepened almost to purple. “In addition to Jack I will ask Mr. Reginald Matthews,” she replied. Mr. Matthews had shown a steady regard for her at their last meeting. Despite his connection to the law, he might agree to aid her once more. And of course, he was family.

Dalbury stiffened at the name. “He is a gentleman?”

“Moreso than I am. He is my choice and he stands as my primary second.”

Dalbury’s eyebrows went up. “Does he know the nature of the quarrel?”

Kat nodded. “I believe he knows. He suspects at least, so it will hardly be telling to bring him in.” She flushed, confessing, “Dr. Pritchett knows as well.”

Dalbury paled. “You told him?” he whispered.

Heat raced into her cheeks and she couldn’t meet his eyes. “No. He attended the auction and recognized me. But I have his word he will not betray me.”

Dalbury shrugged. “We must have a physician present in any case, so Pritchett will fill the bill.” He looked her up and down. “However this turns out, Lady Katarina,” he said, the hint of amusement in his eyes proclaiming how he expected it to turn out, “I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet with you.” He picked up her hand and kissed it, a warm graze that sent disturbing sparks up her arm. “I will tell the captain to dock now. You and Lord Manning will be escorted home in my carriage and I will meet you at dawn tomorrow.”

He stopped, and looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it would not be prudent for us to fight in the park. We do not want this affair to become public knowledge.”

Kat nodded, for he made sense. “You have an alternative spot in mind, my lord?”

“My house or yours would suffice. I have a ballroom that has sufficient space.”

Jack shrugged and said, “We have no such open room. So I fear we must avail ourselves of your hospitality. I am obliged.” The last came out between clenched teeth.

Dalbury nodded and bowed. “Because we will fight indoors away from prying eyes I see no reason to rob us of our sleep. Shall we say ten o’clock?”

“Ten it is, my lord.”

“Until then, my lady, adieu.” And he was gone, leaving the space next to her unexpectedly empty.

To cover that strange, unsettled feeling, she raised her voice to summon her brother.

“All right, Traitor Jack. I intend to fight as though my life depends on it, as it truly does. Will you help me or no?”

Jack still apparently smarted over having his duel summarily taken out of his hands. “You can never win against him, Kat.” He sulked. “Why must we go through this charade?”

She sighed and her anger abated. As she often did after they quarreled, she embraced him. “To save your scrawny neck, if for no other reason.” She released him and looked deep into his eyes, willing him to understand. “If I must be married to the marquess, then it will be by my own hand that the battle is lost. But I don’t expect to lose.” She smiled saucily at him. She had an idea or two that Dalbury might not expect. “And as long as honor is satisfied, we should have no problem avoiding the
ton’s
censure. If I do indeed win, I will quietly sail for Virginia and no one will be the wiser. If I lose,” she set her face into determined lines, “then I marry the man and the
ton
will simply see it as another arranged marriage.”