Chapter 24

An Affair of Honour

The morning saw Mr Milborne strolling in the direction of number five Upper Brook Street, reflecting on the last night’s goings-on. It had seemed to wrap up smoothly, with the untimely interruption of Desmund Clayton abating the heat and tension of the ruckus. For all his meek and deceptively soft voice, the man was nothing if not plain-spoken to a fault. Still, what had occurred was a downright disgraceful affair. Through his friend’s confidences Cedric had finally understood that Wickham and Stokeford had been at dagger’s drawn since two months ago and it had been a long time prophecy that the two would one day reach the point of coming to cuffs. The Earl had tried to avert trouble at the last minute and would have let matters be, but the prickly Wickham was clearly clamoring for bloodshed. Cedric thought he’d never seen a man so enraged, especially a man as young as Wickham.

As for himself, whatever had possessed him to leap willy nilly into Stokeford’s hole he was confounded if he knew. He didn’t even like the man; in fact, he and the Earl were both aware of the mutual animosity that had been existing between them since their first meeting. So why rush to his aid, as game and impulsive as though it had been his best friend’s trouble? But when no one had suggested himself to act for his lordship Cedric was uncomfortably aware of the helplessness behind that proud figure, and felt a sense of contempt to those men present. Apparently they only deemed themselves as amused spectators in the unfolding drama, and would have nothing to do with it. “Fools!” he thought scornfully. “Well, Cedric Milborne isn’t one to stand and amuse himself of someone’s trouble, and so I’ll show ‘em!”

At length he finally reached the Stokeford House and showed the butler his card. He found himself being assessed by two shrewd and stern eyes before he was admitted into the hall where he found Miss Carstairs sashaying about, a very fetching bonnet hanging at one hand. She paused, her eyes reflected surprise and then brightened as she saw him. Suddenly, for no reason at all, Cedric’s heart gave an odd leap. “Good morning, Miss Carstairs. You’re going out?” he said and shook her hand.

“My aunt and I have some shopping to do. But what brings you here, sir? You are visiting my cousin, perhaps?”

“Indeed, ma’am. Is he about?”

“He’s in the library — in fact it seems to me he’s been waiting for someone. Could that be you?” He nodded and smiled. “Why, I didn’t know you’re friends!” she said impulsively.

The smile froze in his lips. With force nonchalance he prevaricated: “We have, ah, something of a private nature to discuss, ma’am. Business,” he hastily added.

“Oh!” Miss Carstairs’ brows fairly rose with curiosity. Egad, what a gudgeon! If he didn’t guard his tongue, she’d surely get wind of her cousin’s forthcoming duel. Her searching gaze was making him uncomfortable, but he fought the urge to look away and instead resorted to his charming smile that had captured so many women’s fancies. As it turned out, the Honourble Miss Marianne Carstairs proved to be one of them, for she blushed and turned away, murmuring something incoherent.

He saw Lady Stokeford coming towards them, and at once punctiliously attended to the Countess. Cedric had known her since his tour in Vienna, and although her ladyship could be charming and playful to her suitors (which he had once fancied himself to be one), there was a distinct air about her that suggested menace when her will was crossed. For a moment he thought he’d glimpsed a cold glitter in those beautiful blue eyes but when the lids started to flicker it seemed to have vanished and he dismissed the thought at once.

“Milborne,” the Earl called from the doorway of the library. The tone was authoritative and peremptory, and it somewhat irked him. Taking his leave of the ladies Cedric responded to his summons with deliberate slowness, just to annoy the other man. When he reached his lordship though, he could not forbear a grimace. “Egad, but that’s a nasty bruise,” he murmured sympathetically as he followed Stokeford inside.

“As you’d observed last night Wickham had been very thorough.” Stokeford said drily, and invited his guest to a cushioned armchair. He poured wine in two glasses, and handed one to him.

“Thank you. I wonder you didn’t give him the wallop he most deserved. If I were in your shoes, I’d give the rascal something he’d never forget. Wickham’s dashed too wanting in manners and needs an overdue lesson.”

“What, and start a brawl beside the street? If I’d done that, then I’m no better than that scumbag and very likely my name will be painted black again. No, I thank you.”

For a moment Cedric regarded him curiously. “So you do care after all what people may think, eh?”

“Of course I care! Who wouldn’t?” he replied with some asperity. “Whatever else they say about me, I do not practice the ways of a scoundrel and then act as though I am deuced unaffected by every criticism thrown at my back.”

Colouring slightly, Mr Milborne begged pardon. “But no need to fly off the handle! I don’t rely on hearsay to judge someone, y’know, but you strike me as one that has, well — one that could not care less of what others might think or say.”

Stokeford gave a careless shrug. “Most of the time I don’t. I daresay people tend to conceive some odd notions about me just because I prefer to keep my own counsel and do not flaunt the order of my life like an open book to provide them entertainment,” he said. “I’ve many faults, Milborne, but not one of them — I am happy to inform you — is being indiscreet.”

“I see. Then you have my word to keep a discreet tongue about this whole affair.”

“I thank you,” he answered wryly. “But don’t you think it’s rather too late to keep a discreet tongue?” Cedric looked bewildered, and he sighed. “Do you think that the men present last night could keep such a delicious tale as last night’s imbroglio to themselves?”

“Oh! What a slow-top I am. ‘Course they couldn’t. I daresay they’d hardly keep their tongues between their teeth since last night. However, you may rest assured that they won’t come skulking around at dawn to see your duel. I’d talked to Randwick already, and we’d agreed that your meeting will be carried out at Hamstead Heath tomorrow.” Stokeford accepted this with a perfunctory nod but his eyes, Cedric noticed, were devoid of any emotion. He exclaimed impulsively: “By Jove, you’re as cool as cucumber, ain’t you?”

“Would you prefer me recoiling with fright?” asked the Earl sardonically.

“A nice figure you’d make out of yourself then, my lord!” he retorted with a reluctant grin. “Besides, I’ve no wish to be a second to some lily-livered principal.”

“Then I am too glad to know that I come up to your standards,” Stokeford said. After a moment, he added pensively: “This fellow Clayton — are you acquainted with him?”

Cedric scowled. “Yes, just very recently. Why, does he annoy you?”

“No. In fact, I like him for being sensible and not mealy-mouthed. You don’t like the fellow, do you? What’s amiss with him?”

“Nothing, except he’s been dangling after So — Miss Winscott, and making sheep’s eyes at her in a way that can make your stomach fairly churn!”

The Earl’s blue eyes gleamed with amusement. “So he’s interested in that direction, eh? And Miss Winscott delights in his attention, I gather?”

He nodded sulkily and there was a dangerous flash in his eyes. “And how did you gather that, I should like to know?”

“The way you fly into a dudgeon when you speak of him. I think you regard Clayton as your formidablerival, else you wouldn’t mind him in the least.”

“You forget, my lord, that you’ve been my formidable rival also,” Cedric drawled with a wry smile.

“Pray acquit me, Milborne. I’m delighted to apprise you that I’d relinquished my suit some time ago.”

“Ah,” his lips stretched into a knowing grin. “In favour of another, I gather? Eh, Stokeford?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door. Lord Robert March, his face surprisingly and unwontedly belligerent, stormed into the library and declared without preamble: “So it is all true then! A fine mess you’ve got yourself into, Stefan, and no word to me at all! Upon my word, I’ve never heard anything equal to it!”

Mr Milborne looked flustered and the Earl considerably confused. “I’m not quite sure if I take your meaning, Robert,” he began uncertainly. “It’s not as if a duel upsets you so — ”

“Of course it isn’t, my good dolt! But your not telling me about your duel, and what’s more choosing a second without caring two figs as to what I would have felt is too shabby by half!”

He blinked and only replied a weak “Oh.”

“Oh, yes,” went on the aggrieved. “Didn’t it occur to your small brain that I am devoutly wishing for the honour to act for you should the occasion arise? No, it didn’t! And it’s curst unfair.”

Cedric gave a gasp, and broke into an irreverent chuckle.

“You know Robert, you could have told me all that in plain speaking and without employing such theatrics,” frowned Stefan, but added in a penitent tone: “It’s a pity of course, but everything’s arranged. Tell us how did you get wind of it.”

The Viscount sighed. “Ainsley broke the news to me earlier this morning at my mother’s house. A friend of his had heard something about your quarrel with Wickham at Brooks’s last night. At first I thought it was just one of your er, small squabbles, you know, but when he said that there’s to be a duel — ” he shook his head grimly. “Let me hear the whole! From what I can gather with that blackened jaw of yours, it’s the devil of a business.”

“It is,” Cedric agreed.

In a no-nonsense tone the Earl recounted the dire episode last night. After which Lord March, looking half incredulous and half seething, remarked indignantly: “Good God! Wickham’s quite beyond the pale to strike you outside Brooks’s and with half the crowd at St James gawking! It’s damned too outrageous I could have scarcely believed it.”

Stokeford’s lip curled. “Really? I wouldn’t put it above Wickham, I tell you.”

Robert regarded him under anxious brows. “You’ll have satisfaction, of course. Such dastardly conduct mustn’t go without proper reprisal. It’s high time for that young wretch to come by his just deserts.”

“Boot’s on the other leg, Robert. I care not for Wickham’s blood nor do I wish his worthless life in my hands. Rather, he shall be given the satisfaction he’s dying to have,” he said and added with a menacing spark in those grave blue eyes, “that is, if he canhave it.”

The two other men exchanged somber glances. “So when is it to be?” asked March after a long pause.

“Dawn tomorrow at Hamstead Heath,” Stefan answered indifferently. “You’ll go too?”

“Of course I go! Be damned if I’d let this come to pass without my witnessing it!”

The Earl bowed. “Then you shall have your fill, my good friend. If I’m not mistaken, our dear Wickham is quavering with anticipation to have his own, too.”

“I may sound like a proper milksop, but I do feel some qualms about this whole devilish business,” muttered Cedric half an hour later, as he and Lord March walked along Upper Brook Street again. “Not that I doubt Stokeford’s reckoned a crack shot, but it’s that fire-eater Wickham I’m worried about. Too hotheaded by half that there’s no telling what he’ll be at next.”

“You mean, you fear that he may not be aboveboard in conducting his part?” March asked, correctly interpreting these utterances. “That’s a rather unjust assessment of the man, Mr Milborne. No matter how dastardly he’d acted, in an affair of honour he is expected to do his part honourably.”

The gentle reprimanding tone to his voice made Cedric flush slightly. “Of — of course, sir. I didn’t mean to imply — that is, just an idea occurred to me, y’know.”

“I know,” he smiled faintly. “But I do believe Wickham won’t sink himself below reproach for the sake of retribution. Besides, it’s in your charge to see to it that the affair is carried out in order. I confess I was rather surprise to discover your part in this.”

Cedric gave a tiny shrug. “A whim sir, and seeing that there was no one to whom Lord Stokeford could have sought help, I just recommended myself instead,” he smiled sheepishly. “You must think me as bold as brass, knowing that I’ve but the slightest acquaintance of the Earl and what’s more, we’re not — I mean — ”

“You’re not in friendly terms,” interposed the Viscount. He smiled at the mortified young man beside him. “I’ve observed that, Milborne. Although how could you have developed a dislike towards my friend is what puzzles me.”

“For a start, he’s dashed too high in the instep and frowns on anyone whom he doesn’t take a liking,” murmured Cedric gruffly.

“Oh, yes. He can be damned too unpleasant and too proud sometimes. He’s made several enemies with that caustic tongue of his, too,” confided Lord March drily, but his voice softened as he added: “But then he has finer sides, you know. It is one in a thousand to meet so loyal and unselfish a gentleman such as Stefan.” He looked speculatively at Cedric. “Have you ever wondered why he’s reckoned a fine shot? Shooting matches aside, he hasn’t fought a single duel, you know.”

“No! Hasn’t he?” exclaimed Mr Milborne, pardonably incredulous.

“I guess I have to tell you the tale,” Lord March sighed. Faintly amused by his companion’s baffled expression, he began: “It was our last year at Oxford, I think. I was staying at Stokeford Manor that time and we were just on our way home from Cheltenham, visiting friends. Our coach passed through a lane where we’d stumbled upon a terrible scene: an overturned gig and an elderly couple held at gunpoint by two ruffians,” he paused as he observed him grimacing. “Yes. Dastardly, isn’t it? To pick on such helpless victims. The old man was useless, for he was either dead or fainted; still, one of the ruffians was pointing a pistol at his form. The other was wrestling something from the poor woman. It was a fat purse.”

“I could imagine myself there, shocked and frozen, very pale on the face after I retreated my head from the window, but Stefan, having unearthed a pistol from its box under the seat, gave a piercing cry and wrenched the door open. Instinctively I followed him and made a grab of his coat. It was useless, of course. One of the ruffians who was holding the old lady took a drastic action. He — he struck her on the temple very hard with the butt of his pistol.”

“Everything happened so fast next. There was a brief exchange of shots. Stefan charging furiously to the ruffians. Then the men started to mount their horses. One fired at Stefan again but missed him by a hair’s breadth. Stefan made a mad dash after them, but since he stood no chance to a galloping horse he halted at some point and took his aim.”

Cedric asked in stupefied voice: “And he got one of them?”

“Exactly. I could’ve hardly believed my own eyes when the man fell from his horse and didn’t move again. At that distance it was but a very slim chance to hit your mark, but it seemed that Stefan only had to point the gun, pull the trigger and the job’s neatly done with one fire.”

“Good God!” exclaimed the awed gentleman. “I have no idea Lord Stokeford had such heroism in his record. To risk his life to save a stranger — !”

“But it was no stranger to him,” countered the Viscount softly. “You see, that lady was Stefan’s old nurse whom he was very attached to. We’d learned later on that the Countess had dismissed her that day for some reasons. The old lady was near to death when we took her to a nearby inn. I remember how Stefan had quarreled with the doctor because he’d been late in coming. We’d stayed by her that night but she never regained consciousness. The next day she died.” He stared ahead, lost in reminiscence. “It was a very painful for him. Upon returning home, Stefan was very stiff and silent, but it was apparent that he was burning with fury against his mother. The next day I decided to return home. There was too much tension in that house, and Stefan hardly talked to me which was excusable, of course, in light of what had happened.”

Still absorbing everything the Viscount had told him, Cedric said faintly: “I see. It must have been hard for him, to lose someone he loved in such a ghastly incident.”

“It is. It could have been worse for us, too. Those men would not hesitate to kill us,” he replied. “When we got back at Oxford the tale had spread like a wildfire. It seemed that there had been an eye witnessed to the whole episode because the veracity of the details was almost unquestionable. Though a little exaggerated perhaps,” he added wryly. “Since then no one had dared challenged Stokeford — until now.”

* * * * * *

Hampstead Heath at dawn was damp and misty. The ominous silence that shrouded the land was occasionally obtruded by soft murmurs, the rasping sounds of boots against the grass, and the chirping of birds. Dark figures drifted about in blurry movements. Moments later, a carriage pulled at the edge of the clearing from which two gentlemen alighted — one was middle-aged and stern-looking, and the other younger and undeniably calm and collected. Upon perceiving the latter, Mr Milborne’s eyes fleetingly widened in surprise, then perceptibly glowered. “What, you here too?” he demanded at the newcomer unpleasantly.

Undaunted, Mr Clayton gave him an apologetic smile and said: “Good morning, Mr Milborne, gentlemen. It chances that I am very well acquainted with Dr Kelly, and had begged to come with him to give whatever assistance I can offer.”

“Oh, you did, didn’t you? I should have expected you’d find a way to wriggle yourself into this! Are you a practitioner as well?”

“I am not, alas.”

“Then much good your assistance will do to us!” Cedric said tartly and stalked away to join Randwick in inspecting the pistols.

Mr Clayton turned to Lord Stokeford. “Let me keep your coat for you, my lord. I am determined to make myself useful here, however little that can be.” His lordship murmured his thanks and deposited his greatcoat on the outstretched hand.

“How are you feeling?” Robert asked, his grey eyes reflecting anxiety.

Stefan, his countenance inscrutable, said flatly: “Nothing, except the desire to finish this as soon as possible. But you begin to annoy me, Robert, with all your fussing about like a mother hen.”