The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (16 page)

"Why not?"

"It's two days of travel here. My name is entered into the betting book at Waiter's nearly every day since the little season started."

"No doubt you were uncommon lucky."

"'Tis not luck. I doubt my finances are much better than yours."

Victor pulled back. Keene's father was rumored to be quite wealthy. But then, the baron had in many ways cut his son off. Or the man who was not his son.

Victor shook off his surprise at Keene's admission. He didn't have the energy to do more than concentrate on the problem at hand. He knew better than most that Keene feeling powerless was tantamount to loosing a starving lion among a herd of gazelles. He'd snap off a head before he thought. "But how shall you treat her? What will you expect of her?"

"I have always known her to be honest. I expect that she will not attempt to foist off this child as mine. In return I shall never mention, nor show by word or deed, that the baby is not mine. She almost told me. She spoke of her parents' desperation about her situation and that she promised to accept any reasonable offer."

"Well, then, you must tell her that."

"How should it be honest if I tell her beforehand I know the child is not mine? She should behave as she will and let her true colors fly."

"If she pretends the child is an early arrival, what then?"

Keene shook his head. "I won't allow it." He stood and pulled Victor to his feet. "You need to be abed."

"Amelia should have told George."

"She assumed he knew."

"But then, she doesn't speak out."

"Why didn't you marry her?"

Victor closed his eyes. "She knew I could not."

Keene halted. Victor saw a mirror of his own emotions in the pain and yearning on Keene's face. "Where is Sophie?"

Keene shook his head, as if warding off deeper emotions. "I sent her to her room. She was wandering about in the snow."

"You had better go to her."

Keene pushed him toward the bed. "I need to rebandage your shoulder."

"Go on, I shall yank on the bellpull."

Keene looked torn. He pressed the fresh bandage material against Victor's shoulder and quickly wrapped it around, tying the ends. Victor pressed his palm over the wad of material, while Keene heaped all the pillows against the headboard.

"I can't go to her. I very nearly took her in the snow. If she hadn't . . ."

Victor studied Keene's wild-eyed look. The man needed to realize there was a reason his control was slipping.

"She didn't know that you would ask her to be your wife, did she?"

"No, she had no idea."

"Then whatever she did, she did not know it would affect you."

"Are you my wife's advocate?"

"Treat her kindly, for I do not think she meant to wound you." In fact, he suspected Sophie adored her husband. But then, what woman didn't?

* * *

Victor was tempted to ignore the scream. But it turned to hysterical pleas for help. Even he could not sit back. Reluctantly, he opened his door and moved down the hallway.

He didn't think Keene would mistreat his wife, but then, Victor had joked about beating her. Perhaps Keene had taken him seriously.

A maid ran to him. "Oh, my lord, she is dead. My Sophie is on the floor, cold as ice. Saints preserve us." The maid's voice rose and fell in an unstable cadence.

Victor rather hoped not. In any case, it wouldn't do to create a stir. If Keene had killed his pregnant wife, Victor would prefer to have enough time to alert George so they might have a fighting chance of getting him to the coast. Not tolerating it took on a whole new meaning.

"Calm down. Take me to her."

Letty led him to the room. Victor crossed the floor to the crumpled form. He took her hand in his. Sophie did feel like ice, but she had just returned from outside. He also saw the soft rise and fall of her chest, the flair of her delicate nostrils as she breathed.

The maid was rocking in the doorway. "I have to go tell them. Oh, Lord, on her wedding day, no less."

"She's not dead." The immediate problem was preventing the maid from alerting everyone to Sophie's condition. Whether or not she had been knocked out by an irate husband or fainted due to her pregnancy made little difference.

"She's cold as death, she is. Oh, Lord, how shall I tell her mother?"

"Do not tell her mother. Sit down and regain your composure."

He rubbed Sophie's hand. He would have lifted her into the bed, but with his shoulder he could not. He didn't see any evidence that Keene had followed his wife to the room. The cover on the bed was pristinely smooth. Of course, if he only intended to beat her, he might not have availed himself of her charms.

"Sophie, wake up."

The maid clasped her hands in front of her mouth. "Lord Almighty, sir."

"I assure you, she is just fainted."

Victor heard footsteps in the hallway. The last thing Keene needed was the rumors of another man in his wife's bedroom within hours of the ceremony. "Shut the door, and be quick about it, miss."

The maid did his bidding, and she also slipped out in a few minutes when he sent her to fetch Keene. Sophie began to stir.

"Are you all right?" asked Victor.

Sophie blinked. "What happened?"

"You tell me. Did Keene strike you?"

Sophie shifted, sat up and leaned her shoulders against the bed. She frowned. "Keene would never hit me. I think I fainted."

"Do not be so sure. A twelvemonth ago I shouldn't have thought he would shoot me."

"He shot you?" Sophie's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Why?"

"You shall have to ask him. Come, can you stand?"

Sophie blinked. "Why would he shoot anyone?"

"Let me help you stand."

Sophie shook her head and looked at him. "Did he blacken your eye, too?"

"No, George did that."

She allowed him to help her to her feet. Victor kept his arm about her waist as he led her to a chair. He wondered if he should have sent for her mother instead of Keene. He knelt by the chair.

"You three have a very strange friendship."

"It has been under much strain lately." Victor wondered at the loyalty he felt even now.

"I do hope that none of this is because of me. I should not wish to create any problems."

The only problem Victor knew of with her was the very private one he had overheard. If he could urge her to be honest, perhaps Keene's marriage would not end in a state like George's. The trouble was, he only had a few minutes of privacy before Keene showed up, and he would not appreciate the interference.

Victor wasn't about to rest on a noble precept such as whether or not Sophie did the right thing without being told. "Madam," How strange it felt to address her in that fashion. "I would implore you to confide in your husband."

Sophie looked confused.

"I know it is quite bold of me to offer advice, but I know Keene. He will forgive you anything if you just tell him of it. You should tell him the reason you fainted."

"I should?"

"Do not attempt to deceive him. He will not have it."

"I would not."

"Then you have already told him?"

"Told him what?"

Victor shook his head. He hated to be so blunt about it. "Do not speak of this to anyone, but George's wife was with child when he married her."

Sophie's forehead crinkled. "But what does that have to do with me?"

He finished in an urgent whisper, "Not his child."

She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, my."

"Yes, so you see."

"Is that why Mr. Keeting drinks so much?"

"Well, yes, for he did not before." They were getting off the topic and Victor was anxious to convince her to follow a different path than Amelia had chosen. "But Keene . . ." Victor searched for a delicate way of saying it. "She did not tell him."

Sophie whitened. She blinked, her large blue eyes filling with tears.

Ah, so he was getting through to her. "So you must be totally honest with Keene. You must tell him why you fainted. Do not deceive him. The accident should not trouble him so much as the attempt to hide it, for he would never forgive the lie."

"But—"

"Do not tell him I said anything."

Sophie swallowed hard and squeezed the hand he still held. "Thank you."

The door opened and Victor hoped they did not look as guilty as he felt.

Something sinister in Keene's expression did not bode well for that hope. "Come to fetch that jacket?"

Victor dropped Sophie's hand and stood. "Your wife fainted, sir. I heard her maid call for help."

Keene's gaze lighted on every detail, from Victor's posture on his knees to his open shirt. But once Keene's gaze landed on his wife, his face softened. "Are you all right, Sophie?"

She nodded and gave a hesitant glance at Victor before she said, "I have had some dizzy spells of late. You see, I—"

"I will leave you in your husband's hands," interrupted Victor.

Sophie blushed and looked away.

He backed to the door. Had they forgotten his presence in their midst? Either way, Keene deserved to hear his wife's confession in private.

The door clicked shut after Victor left the room.

Alone together, Keene wasn't sure he wanted to hear. His heart pounded in his throat and unlike earlier in the snow when he had been caught in desire, this time dread and yearning churned into lumps inside him. He turned around the chair at her dressing table and sat in it, facing his bride. "Go on."

"I should not have done it I suppose, but I thought Papa had bought the horse as my marriage gift."

This was not where he expected the conversation to lead. He heaved a sigh of relief.

"But it was really the other horse, and I did not know."

"Know what?"

"That she wasn't broken. I've fallen from a horse before. But this time I've had these dizzy spells." Sophie stared at him earnestly.

Keene felt the world slide. "Are you saying you fainted because of a fall from a horse?"

She nodded.

Keene took a stab in the dark. "I suppose the inability to keep your breakfast down is attributable to the fall, too."

"No, that was nerves. You were not here yet, and I didn't know that I hadn't angered you beyond reason. I feared you no longer wanted to marry me." She looked down.

Keene stood and pushed the chair out of his way. He took a step toward her.

She flinched.

He wheeled about, feeling sick to his stomach. How was it she flinched when he moved toward her? He wouldn't hurt her. He had never raised his hand against any woman. His father had at least taught him that much honor.

"How did you know that I was sick this morning?"

"Only this morning, Sophie? Come, you must do better than that." She meant to deceive him. She meant to pretend that the child she bore was his. He wanted to throw something.

He wanted to grant her the fuel to perpetuate her little deception, yet he respected himself too much to be a willing participant in her trickery.

Keene spun back around.

Sophie wasn't sure what he wanted. His brow lowered over narrowed eyes. She wanted to plunge through to the end of this discussion and let it die. The underlying tension ate at her. She pleated the skirt of her gown in her hand. "Well, I have been ill often of late, but I'm sure it is nothing."

"Nothing that another seven to eight months won't cure."

Why should seven to eight months make a difference? Perhaps he had experience with concussions and knew that was how long it took one to be over it. "Do you think so?"

He silently watched her. What did he expect of her?

"Perhaps it is because of the fall, too."

An ugly look crossed his face. Sophie blinked. It was almost as if he hated her. A helpless confusion wafted through her. She wanted so badly to please him, even though Victor had just told her—well, almost told her—that George's wife had borne Keene's child. Or at least, Sophie thought that was what Victor had implied.

It was all so unsettling. He'd also told her to be honest with Keene and tell him why she had fainted.

She had, and Keene looked at her as if she were an unsavory offering left by a cat. But then, Keene was never fond of her impulsive behavior. Had Victor misled her? Perhaps Keene wanted to lay the past to rest. Outside he had said it was over and done. He'd also held her tight and led her to the door, enfolded her in his embrace as if he could hardly stand to let her go.

Sophie realized she had underestimated the complications of marriage. But then, she had always been a fool rushing into situations where angels feared to tread. Why should her marriage be any different?

"I am sorry," she said.

"Whatever for, Sophie? You have not told me anything you should be sorry for."