Mary Balogh: The Double Wager

"Don't be ridiculous, Henry."

"Read it!"

There was a pause of some seconds. Finally Cranshawe lowered his head and began to read.

"Louder!" she directed.

He read what was written on the paper in a loud, clear voice.

"Now, Mr. Ridley, would you take it from Mr. Cranshawel please? I do not really want to have it spattered with his blood."

Ridley did as he was bid, pleading with Henry all the while. Finally he moved to one side and Cranshawe was again isolated in the middle of the meadow. Philip and Penelope stood at the other side of the field, one of Miss Manford's hands on a shoulder of each. Henry adjusted the pistol so that it was again in line with Cranshaw's right arm. Again she raised her left arm to steady her wrist.

"Drop the gun, Henry!" said a cool, authoritative voice from the gap in the hedge. The words were not shouted, but they accomplished what all the commotion of the previous few minutes had failed to do. The pistol immediately dropped to the ground from nerveless fingers as

Henry turned her head toward her husband. Cranshawe visibly sagged with relief.

"You!" Henry said. "What are you doing here?"

"The same as everyone else, I presume," Eversleigh said, strolling unhurriedly forward, viewing the beauties of nature." He lifted his quizzing glass to his eye as he gradually approached Cranshawe.

"Oliver!" he said, affecting surprise. I did mot know you were one of nature's devotees."

"I never thought I should be glad to see you, Marius," Cranshawe said, his self-assurance visibly restored. "Your wife was just about to kill me. She should be locked up in a madhouse."

Three voices chorused from the sidelines.

"Don't talk about my sister like that!"

"Don't listen to him, your Grace. He's a black-hearted villain.'' -

"Oh, bless my soul, what an evil man."

Brutus growled threateningly.

"There is a letter here that you should read, your Grace," Ridley said calmly from his place to one side of Henry.

"I heard it, thank you, James," Eversleigh replied. I think it would be rash of you to thank me for saving your arm, dear boy," he continued, turning his attention and his quizzing glass back to his heir. "I stopped Henry only because I could not possibly deny myself the pleasure of dealing with you myself."

"Oh, no, you don't!" Henry exclaimed, fury animating her again. "Why should men get all the satisfaction of working out their anger? This one is mine!" She strode determinedly toward Cranshawe, and before he could see what was coming and react, she had raised her fist and driven it with all her strength into his face. Her target had been his nose. She missed and connected with one eye instead. Her sapphire ring gashed him just below the eye.

"Little vixen!" Cranshawe gasped, clamping one hand over the wounded side of his face.

There was a chorus of cheers from the background, including some from Miss Manford. Brutus leapt to his feet, barking with excitement,

"Bravo, Henry!" Eversleigh said quietly. "Now stand aside, my love." He beckoned Ridley to his side, carefully removed his coat, and handed it to his secretary.

"I suggest that you do likewise, Oliver," he said amiably. I do believe you will be measuring your length on the ground rather soon, and there might be some bloodshed. I would think it a shame to ruin a perfectly good coat, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, this is just the type of situation you like, is it not, Marius?" replied his cousin bitterly. "You can show off your superior physical strength in front of an appreciative audience.''

"I know it is not your style, Oliver," Eversleigh replied calmly, unbuttoning the lace cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves back to the elbows. "You prefer to wound your opponents through women and through lies and trickery. Unfortunately, dear fellow, on this occasion you have no choice.

Cranshawe grimly pulled off his coat and tossed it from him. H is eye was already beginning to swell, the onlook- ers noted with satisfaction.

Really, the fight was disappointing when it finally got started, Philip confided to a small audience later. Eversleigh's very first punch-a right jab to the chin-produced a crunching sound and Cranshawe fell backward. He scrambled to his feet again, but spent the rest of the unequal contest defending himself. He did manage to land one lucky punch on Eversleigh's mouth; he even drew blood. But one punch after another of Eversleigh's was a potential leveler.

Cranshawe's weakening guard would drop to protect his ribs and stomach after the breath had been knocked out of his body by a well-placed fist, and then the same fist would punish his face and jaw. When he chose to protect his head, then his body was pummeled. To his credit, he did not go down easily the second time, but in the end he was swaying on his feet, his hands, still held in loose fists, hanging useless at his side.

Eversleigh held his opponent by the right shoulder, while he threw all his weight behind the finalunch, a wicked right hook that caught Cranshawe squarely below the chin and snapped his head back. The duke released his hold and watched his cousin crumple to the ground.

There was a curious silence among the onlookers. Even Brutus, standing to one side, was only panting. Henry broke the spell.

"Marius, you are hurt!" she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably, and she rushed to him, hurled herself into his arms, and burst into tears against his shoulder.

One arm came around her. The other hand cupped the back of her head and held it against him. "It's all over now, Henry," he murmured soothingly. "You are safe, my love.''

All else was forgotten for a couple of minutes as Henry let herself sag against him, allowing all the firm warmth of him to penetrate her exhausted limbs. She felt the truth of his words. Nothing could ever threaten her again now that Marius was here.

Finally outside noises began to penetrate her consciousness and she pushed herself wearily away, aware again that nothing had changed except that she was free of Oliver Cranshawe and that apparently all the world knew about her indiscretion.

"What the devil is going on here?" a new voice was demanding crossly. "Are you all mad? Am I master here or am I not?"

"I say," said Giles admiringly, "is this your handiwork, your Grace? How splendid!"

"Not entirely," Eversleigh replied modestly. "The eye is Henry's work."

"I say!"

"You should have seen it, Giles," Penelope shrieked. "He must have a broken jaw. I could hear the bone cracking way over there."

"Henrietta, what is going on here?" Peter demanded in. fury.

"It is quite a long story," she replied. "Could I tell you at the house, Peter?"

Cranshawe was beginning to stir on the ground. Eversleigh, carefully rebuttoning his cuffs and smoothing the lace over his hands, stood over him until he opened his eyes.

"I shall be returning to London tomorrow, Oliver," he said gently. "When I get there, I would wish you to be gone. I would advise you to remain outside the city for at least one year. If I encounter you within that time, or if after that time you I so much as let your eyes alight on my wife, I shall engineer a quarrel in which, for honor's sake, you will be forced to call me out. That will give me the choice of weapons, and I shall choose swords. I trust I make myself clear?"

Cranshawe gingerly fingered a split lip and moaned something unintelligible.

"Quite so, dear boy," his cousin replied, and turned away to put on his coat.

"Are we just going to leave him here, your Grace?" Ridley asked doubtfully.

"This is Sir Peter Tallant's property," Eversleigh pointed out coolly. "If he wishes to extend his hospitality, it is no concern of mine. But I would suggest that Mr. Cranshawe be allowed to recover here in quiet and take himself off to the nearest inn when he feels ready to travel. He may save his pride there, if he wishes, by saying that he has been set upon by highwaymen."