Page 30 of Once Ruined, Twice Shy

Much to her surprise, Papa was all smiles as he stood up from behind his desk and came to greet them.

“I confess, it’s more of a pleasure to see you than I expressed last night. There is still much to discuss, and I am not at all pleased with you. But you are welcome, nevertheless.”

“Thank you, Papa.” She didn’t like the idea of ‘much to discuss’, knowing it would be painful and humiliating. But none of that mattered now.

“I’ve had a note from Conall that fills me with dread.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to be alarmed about. He left early so he could get a good start on his way back to Bath. I’m just off to see the constable myself, to warn him to keep an eye open for Calshott, in case he turns up here.”

“Conall said nothing about Bath.” Hestia’s heart raced, and her chest was tight. “When did he tell you that?”

“I caught him this morning before he left. He seems a sensible gentleman, and behaved well towards me, after what I did yesterday. I apologise for that—but I’m an old fool now, and likely to remain one.”

She shook her head. “If he’s so sensible, why did he hurtle off without saying goodbye to me?”

“He just wants to get matters sorted, my dear. And avoid traffic too, no doubt. There’s a lot of to-ing and fro-ing between here and London in the week, despite it being high summer.”

“When did he leave?” Conall mustn’t confront Frederick without speaking to her first. For a start, she needed to take back her cruel words of last night. What if things went badly awry, and she never saw Conall again? He’d never know how much she…

Loved him.

The knowledge struck her like a thunderclap. He’d been generous, kind, courageous. He was selfless in his love-making. The charges she had to lay at his door were paltry compared to his positive attributes. But those were considerations of mind and body, not of the heart. Whatever the rest of her thought about it, her heart now belonged to Conall Methuen, Earl of Corsbury. She must win him back or give up on love entirely.

Her father glanced at the clock. “He left about a quarter of an hour ago. I imagine you can still catch him if you want to. It’ll take a while to harness up his horses. I’ll come with you. You look agitated, and I don’t want you making a spectacle of yourself. I can rouse the constable on the way.”

“Oh, please do. But hurry, Papa!”

After what seemed an age, her father had donned coat and hat and joined her by the front door. As she kissed her mother, Hestia’s stomach tied itself up in knots. She could think of nothing but catching Conall before he left, to take back her hateful words, and give him the promise of her hand. As he’d said, second chances didn’t often come along, and forgiveness was even rarer. He was her best hope of happiness and she, she suspected, was also his.

While her father stopped to call on the village constable, she hurried to the top of the hill in the direction of the Swan but stopped short at the entrance into the stable yard. It was thronged with people.

The sound of steel on steel rent the air, and the breath lodged in her throat.

“What’s going on?” she asked a ruddy-faced man in front of her.

“Damned good skirmish, miss,” was the reply.

She couldn’t see—there were too many tall people in the way. A sense of doom descended like molten lead into her stomach. She scanned the crowd and spotted Gaisford, Conall’s footman, a few yards away. Pushing through to stand by him, she found herself at the front of the onlookers and saw what they were watching.

Conall, with rapier in hand, fighting a furious Frederick.

“Oh, great heavens, Gaisford, why don’t you do something?”

The footman’s voice was hoarse as he said, “It’s not the done thing, ma’am, to interfere in a gentleman’s bout. Much as I would wish to.”

“But he’s your employer! He could be killed. And don’t forget he has a disadvantage—he can only see on one side.”

“Don’t you worry, Miss. The earl has the upper hand. He’s merely playing with the other gentleman, teaching him a lesson. The fellow who attacked him can’t cope with a left-handed swordsman.”

She hardly dared look, lest she see the killing blow, the bite of cold steel on warm flesh, the red pulsing flow of a man’s blood. But she forced herself, and her quick glimpse revealed neither man was harmed.

It could still happen, however. Both had a look of intense concentration on their faces as they circled one another, thrusting, parrying, making feints, and lunging at full stretch. Though she was no judge of such matters, she thought Gaisford must be right about Conall’s skill, despite his handicap. Frederick looked heavy and awkward by comparison, and his thrusts seemed fuelled by anger rather than strategy.

She looked away again, the blood singing in her ears. This was beyond terrible. The last thing she wanted was to be fought over.

“What happened, Gaisford? How did this start?”

“I was just coming out to see if the coach was well supplied for our return to London when I saw my master disputing with this gentleman in the stable yard. Well, I would say Lord Corsbury was talking calm-like and not angry, and he was trying to give the other fellow a sheaf of papers. But the other was rosy as an apple, clearly furious about something, and would not be mollified, or take the papers. My master turned away to put the sheets back in their box, and that scoundrel drew his rapier on him, just like that, so I yelled and ran forwards. I know my master keeps a dagger in his boot, but ‘tis no use against a sword. So, I quickly unstrapped his weapon case from the rack in the carriage, and when I saw my moment, handed him his sword. Only a cowardly dog would attack a man like that. Who is the fellow? He should hang for this.”