Being Sunday, it took longer than expected for Theo to locate an open carriage dealership. After two hours of riding around Bath, he found a Jewish-owned one that had only three models available for immediate purchase: a Town Coach, a high-perched Phaeton, and a Calash.
The Town Coach was too heavy and the Phaeton too precariously balanced. His only option, therefore, was the Calash, despite its lightness and open passenger compartment. With Mr. Levine’s assistance, Theo and Churchill hitched the horses and set off toward Paragon Street. By the time they stopped outside No. 5, Theo was as nervous as a horse in a burning barn.
Proceeding to the door alone, he took a deep breath before using the knocker. As he waited for someone to come, he threw frequent glances in Churchill’s direction. He had no idea who would answer or what would transpire thereafter. He only knew he would not leave this house without Louisa, even if he had to force his way inside.
When at last the door opened, the knot in Theo’s stomach was a cannonball. Peering out at him through the narrow gap between door and jamb was a middle-aged woman in a servant’s cap and tucker.
Eyeing him suspiciously, she asked, “What do you want?”
Her off-putting tone of voice brought to mind his reception at Midsomer Park. Would she, too, set the dogs on him?
“I have come to pay a call on Miss Louisa Bennet,” he said with all the amiability he could summon. “Do I find her at home this morning?”
“No,” was the maid’s brusque reply.
Theo’s heart sank like an anchor. “May I know when she is expected to return? Or, better still, where I might find her?”
“She is at church, sir,” said the scowling woman. “With the rest of her family. She’s getting married this evening, in case you’ve not heard.”
“I see,” he said, concealing his distress. “And where, pray, will the wedding take place?”
“At the Abbey, of course.”
He knew where the Abbey was located, having passed it while searching for a carriage dealer. When they pulled up outside a quarter hour later, Theo exited alone and limped across the courtyard to the cathedral’s main entrance. As he heaved open the door, he heard the minister speaking from the pulpit.
“I publish the banns of marriage between Lord Charles Hillsworth, the Fifth Earl of Glastonbury, and his cousin, Miss Louisa Bennet. This is the third time of asking. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it.”
Theo gathered his nerve and stepped into the nave. “I know a reason the couple should not be permitted to marry.”
A murmur arose from the pews as every head turned to gawk at him. He searched the faces for Louisa, finding her near the front. Seated with her were her sister, a plump elderly woman, and a tall, dark-haired man with hatred burning in his eyes.
The loathsome Cousin Charles, presumably.
The minister cleared his throat, recalling Theo’s attention. “Approach, sir, and state your reason why these two should not be wed.”
Theo felt every eye upon him as he hobbled up the aisle toward the pulpit. Stopping alongside the pew where Louisa sat, he turned and met her gaze. She looked pale and uneasy, but also very glad to see him. He was just as happy to see her.
Shifting his gaze to the minister, he said, “The bride is promised to another and is being forced to marry Lord Hillsworth against her will.”
The Reverend’s gaze swept over his flock. “Will the couple in question please come forward?”
Accompanied by a chorus of gasps and whispers, Louisa and Charles worked their way to the end of the pew. As Theo stepped back to give them room to exit, Charles shot him a look meant to strike him dead where he stood. Theo, undaunted, returned the Earl’s stare with equal acrimony.
The Pastor cleared his throat to quiet the assembly. When the din died down, he addressed himself to Louisa. “Does this man speak the truth, Miss Bennet? Are you indeed being forced to marry Lord Hillsworth against your will?”
“I am,” she replied.
More mutterings arose from the congregation. When the pastor had quieted the assembly, he again spoke to Louisa. “Am I right to presume the party who has spoken up is the man with a prior claim on you?”
“You are.”
“Now see here,” Charles interjected. “What do her wishes or feelings matter in all of this? Her parents have decided what is in her best interest, as is their right and duty. I am of superior birth and the heir to two fortunes. By marrying me, she will carry on her father’s legacy and save her mother and sisters from destitution.” Gesturing toward Theo, he added in a contemptuous tone, “This interloper is a commoner who has seduced her into entering into an understanding with him. He has nothing to offer her or her family.”
“I have a lifetime of love and happiness to offer her,” Theo riposted, “which is more than she’ll ever get from you or her father.”
“And all I have ever wanted,” Louisa put in.
The minister scowled reprovingly at Charles. “I do not fault her parents for wanting the best for her. Nor do I blame you, Lord Hillsworth, for catering to their wishes. I do, however, object to any young lady being coerced into marrying against her will, whether or not she has reached the age of consent. Must I remind you that we are civilized Englishmen, sir, not savages like the Scotch and Irish? We do not take our brides by force, however much stands to be gained in the bargain.”
Charles stood firm. “Even if the match will save her from her own poor judgment?”
“Yes, even then,” said the minister. “For it is our Lord’s place, not ours, to bring His lost sheep back home.”
“I am not lost,” Louisa shouted at the pulpit, “but surely would be if left to the mercy of Lord Hillsworth. Already, he has assaulted and threatened me…and will commit even greater evils if I am forced to marry him.”
That son of a bitch! Seething with fury, Theo advanced on Charles and said, spitting the words like nails, “If you ever come near her again I will crush you under my heel like the grub you are.”
Charles drew up taller. “I’d like to see you try, sailor-boy.”
Theo threw his shoulders back and fixed his adversary with a flinty glare. “She has no wish to marry you.”
“Only because she is too young and stupid to recognize what is in her best interest.”
The blaze in Theo’s chest became a bonfire. “She might be young, but she is old enough to know her own mind. And to call her stupid only shows how little you know or deserve her.”
Charles laughed in his face. “You deign to call me underserving? What claims have you of breeding or connections to make you worthier than I?”
“I love her and would never ill-treat her,” Theo replied with conviction. “Unlike you and her father, who pursue your pleasures without the least thought of the damage you do to the hostages you call your wives and children.”
“That only shows how little you know of women, you peasant,” said Charles with a superior sneer. “For the only sure way to win a woman’s heart is by tormenting her.”
How did one reason with a man with such outrageous philosophies? Only one way Theo knew: by beating him senseless. He threw a right hook, catching Charles squarely on the jaw. The blackguard staggered backward, quickly regained his footing, and charged at Theo with his walking stick. As Theo raised his cane to defend himself, Charles cut low and whacked his false leg maliciously.
When he fell, Charles laughed triumphantly. “You are no match for me, you overreaching cripple, as I have just demonstrated. Nor, for that matter, are you my equal, let alone my better, in any way, shape, or form.”
When Theo tried to grab his cane, Charles kicked it out of reach. “You social-climbing upstart! If you think I am moved one iota by your sentimental gibberish, you had better think again. For I know very well that your only desire is to elevate your social standing by marrying above your station.”
Louisa brought him his cane. As he positioned it to support his rise, he said to Charles, “Believe what you like. For I give not a fig what you think of me.”
With a laugh, Charles swung his walking stick against Theo’s buttressed cane, sending it skimming across the aisle.
“Gentlemen, come now,” the minister shouted from the pulpit. “You forget that you are in the House of God, which is no place for such coarse behavior.”
“He is right. We should settle this with a fair fight somewhere else. What say you, Captain? Are you man enough to face me on the field of honor?”
Theo regarded his rival flintily. “Just name the time and place.”
“Tomorrow at dawn on the Gravel Walk. And he who draws first blood will have Louisa, with no further interference from the other. Do you agree?”
“I do.” Theo used the pew to keep his footing.
“Good. Now all you need do is choose the weapon and bring your second to the dueling ground at the appointed hour.”
“Swords,” Theo said, shooting visual daggers at his opponent. “And may the best man win.”
* * * *
Louisa wrung her hands as she rode back to The Paragon in Aunt Hildegarde’s chaise. She and Theo had come so close to getting away. So close to living happily ever after. Why did he not just take her away instead of agreeing to fight Charles for her hand? And why, if he felt he must accept the challenge, did he choose swords instead of pistols? Had he forgotten, in the heat of the moment, how much dexterity a swordfight required?
Heaven and Earth! What idiots men could be at times. How had the world survived as long as this with their sex in charge?
This time, Louisa had procured the forward-facing seat next to the window. Georgie was beside her and Charles across, looking like a cat with cream on his whiskers. Clearly, he thought he had the upper hand in tomorrow’s contest. Was his confidence based on his superior agility or swordsmanship?
“I do hope you intend to fight fair,” she said.
The dastardly grin he gave her sent a chill up her spine. “Oh, Louisa. How naïve you are. It’s actually rather sweet.”
His remark alarmed as well as offended her. “What do you mean?”
He laughed like the villain he was. “Not only will I not fight fair, I will not fight at all. When your precious Captain arrives at the dueling ground tomorrow, he will find no one there to meet him. For you and I will already be wed—and enjoying our honeymoon in Weymouth with my friends.”
Her blood turned to ice. He was right. She was naïve. For even knowing what a jackal he was, she had not suspected he would do something so underhanded. “You might be able to double-cross the Captain, but you cannot make me marry you.”
“Perhaps not,” he said smugly. “But your father can—and you forget he will be in Bath by now, ready to march you down the aisle.”
Lord have mercy! In all the excitement, she had forgotten Papa was coming. With him here, she stood no chance of escaping her fate. Her only hope was to warn Theo what Charles was planning. But how would she ever get away?
As the carriage slowed behind a farm cart, she saw another way out. Throwing open the door, she jumped out and took off running. The sidewalk was crowded with sedan chairs and pedestrians. She dodged them all as best she could. Behind her, she could hear Charles shouting, “Stop that thief! She has stolen my watch!”
Propelled by fear and hatred, she rounded the corner. Just as she did, someone grabbed her—a tall man in a striped waistcoat. She fought frantically to free herself, screaming, “Let me go! Let me go!”
“Stop fighting me,” he commanded in a voice she recognized. “I am trying to help you.”
She stopped struggling and looked at his face. Elation spread through her when she saw who it was. “Lt. Churchill! Thank the Lord.”
Before she could say anything more, he put her in a sedan chair, clever man. For it was the perfect place to hide in plain sight. Just as Charles rounded the corner, Lt. Churchill instructed the chairmen to take her with all due haste to a Mr. Brown at the St. James Inn.