Chapter 22
“Ye’ve got to blow his bloody brains out.”
John had thought he’d head to his new London townhome, await the special license from the Bishop of London, and contemplate how he was going to track down Meredith’s uncle and wring his boney neck.
Instead, he was sitting in the Duke of Clyde’s large coach, rattling out towards Hampstead. . . With the vicar tied up like a Christmas goose on the bench across from him.
The Duke of Clyde was full of surprises.
The vicar, clearly thinking these words about brains were meant for him, yelped against his gag and writhed on the velvet squabs.
“Be still, ye arse,” Clyde commanded.
And the vicar did, indeed, still.
John, who was used to men acting in strange and rather violent ways, eyed the Duke of Clyde with new eyes.
He’d thought the man a great beast who had seen hell and had softened because of it.
Apparently not.
“Your Grace,” John said carefully. “My brothers have advised me against the duel.”
“English flowers,” Clyde, growled disdainfully, his burr preposterously thick. “Ye’re no’ a wilting violet, are ye, Mooreland?”
It had been quite the moment as John had headed home on foot in the late hours only to be stopped by a coach just outside his house. The door had opened, Clyde had leaned out and barked, “Get in.”
He had.
Now, he was wondering if he’d be brought up on charges of kidnapping.
As he focused on the man who had decided to publicly crucify Meredith, he knew it would be worth it. The idea that her own flesh and blood could so willingly destroy her was appalling. He wasn’t entirely sure what Clyde had in mind, stealing the vicar off the street, but he was prepared to be complicit.
“Ye’re going to duel,” the duke declared. “’Tis a matter of honor.”
“I never thought you the romantic sort.”
“Romantic?” Clyde snorted.
“Chivalrous?” he offered.
Clyde rolled his eyes. “I never thought ye a coward.”
“Oh, now you’ve got your breeches in a twist, Your Grace.” John cocked his head to the side. “Why is that? I know you are aware of my nature and coward isn’t it.”
Clyde grimaced. “Fine then. ’Tis because I had a chance to toss this drivel to my dogs and let him go. He came to me rabbiting on about how ye’d gotten rid of him and the behavior of his niece. I should have dealt with him then. Instead, I just sent him off. Now, look at the state of circumstances. Miss Trent doesna deserve this.”
“Ah. Well, I understand that.” John drew in a steadying breath. It was galling how the vicar had behaved and how they had failed to stop him from doing damage. “I was lamenting my own lapse in judgment regarding his state not four hours ago.”
“Grand.” The duke gave an approving nod. “Then I’ll be yer second.”
John inclined his head in agreement. It was the right thing. He knew his brothers cared. They wanted to protect him from the wrath of society. But the truth was, nothing could. Not their family connection, not an earldom, nothing. He was, and forever would be, John Forthryte, bastard, in the eyes of the ton and it was time he stop apologizing for that.
And God, it would feel splendid to face that powdered ponce across a foggy field at the first rays of dawn on the green. And make him bleed for daring to breathe even the smallest besmirching word against Meredith.
John hesitated. “One thing, Your Grace?”
“Aye?”
“If. . . If for some reason the duel goes amiss.” John hated to say it aloud, but he had to. He was a realist after all. “You promise to offer your hand again to Meredith. I could not bear to think of her ruined with no help.”
“I promise,” the duke proclaimed. “And if she willna have me, I’ll help her. I vow it.”
“Such promises will, hopefully, go unneeded. With luck, we shall achieve first blood.”
Clyde nodded again, though the duke was clearly out for more than that.
John wasn’t afraid. All his life had been spent near violence and he knew how to handle arms. It was also his intent to demand first blood only. And his opponent would be a fool to deny it.
But the man had already proven he didn’t have a great deal of reason with his public vomiting of insults and, also, one could never truly know the outcome of such an event.
So, as John sat in the darkness, decidedly pleased that he was going to be able to avenge Meredith. He hoped she would understand.
After all, someone had to seek vengeance. It was his role in life. And though his brothers wished it wasn’t, he couldn't change his nature. Could he?
“What are we going to do with him?” John suddenly asked, pointing to Meredith’s uncle.
The duke stroked his chin, a gesture meant to intimidate with his consideration.
“Torture, I think.”
John spotted the mischief in the duke’s eyes. He doubted the Scotsman held with actual torture. However, a bit of verbal intimidation seemed the right course.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” John stated. “What else?”
“Hmmm.” The duke narrowed his gaze. “Imprisonment?”
John clapped his hands together. “Perhaps, a mad house.”
“We could send him to Africa.”
John shook his head, giving a mock look of sorrow. “We couldn’t do that to the people of Africa.”
“True. True,” the duke agreed.
John gave a cold smile. “Shall we take out his tongue? Stop him from preaching?”
The duke sighed. “But he will go on writing pamphlets.”
Frowning, John folded his arms. “A dilemma if I ever I had one. He shall have to wait then for a decision. . . Until the duel is done.”
“Until it’s done,” confirmed Clyde. “And when it’s done, Mooreland, ye’ll come home to Scotland.”
“Home?” John echoed, certain he’d misheard.
“Ye dinna belong here, John,” the duke announced as if he were passing law. “Perhaps once ye did, in the East End, but that’s no’ truly yer home now, is it?”
“No. But-”
“I saw it on yer face,” the duke cut in. “Ye loved Scotland.”
“I did.” It was true. He’d been caught up by the majesty of the land and the strength of the people.
As if it explained everything, the duke continued, “Then ye should come back where there willna be too many English idiots to mar yer days.”
“I’m English,” John felt the need to point out. Though it was obvious.
Clyde snorted again. “Ye’re different.”
A laugh boom from John. “I can’t argue with that.”
“I’m aware or I wouldna be suggesting it. After all, ye’re my nearest neighbor. If I disliked ye, I’d be finding ye a permanent place in Parliament.”
John laughed again, marveling that, in all this, he could actually find a moment’s lightness. The Duke of Clyde was a fascinating and appealing fellow.
However, his laugh seemed to distress the vicar.
“Should we untie him?” John asked abruptly. “I don’t wish him to have apoplexy.”
“Mooreland ye’re far kinder than I imagined,” Clyde drawled.
“Good God, what has become of me?”
“A woman,” Clyde informed him easily.
It was tempting to throw his hands into the air and lament, but John refrained. Instead, he said dryly, “Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true. Ye have feelings for her.”
“I wish to keep her safe.”
“More than that,” the duke insisted. “I saw it the day I met ye and ye demanded she and this bit of leavings be invited to my castle.”
“That’s impossible,” John countered.
“Is it?”
John thought back to that day and how, already, he’d been drawn to Meredith and her newfound confidence.
“Ye see,” the duke said proudly. “I told ye.”
The vicar let out a furious sound.
John leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “You evil, old man. Meredith had done nothing but seek out my help. It’s your own twisted and perverted mind that thought otherwise. You veritably drove her into my arms. And since she ran there, I am more than happy that she shall stay.”
And to his absolute amazement, John found that he meant it. Every word.
***
Harried knocking on the downstairs doors sent pandemonium through the house. Even Meredith had been unable to ignore the vigorous pounding. Given the events that had transpired mere hours ago, she had lingered in her room conversing with Harriet. After so long apart, they’d finally managed to sit down together and speak. It had been assuring to discover that Harriet still didn’t blame her for the happenings last year.
The moment those knocks had shaken through the house, she’d rather jumped up, yanked on her gown and hurried down the several flights of stairs.
Harriet had gone in search of Garret.
To her horror, Meredith had been greeted by the pale and panicked face of Lady Andromeda.
“John?” Merry gasped. “Is he unwell.”
“That fool!” Andromeda shouted. “He’s gone off with my brother.”
The Duke of Huntsdown stormed into the foyer. “What the devil has that mad Scot done?”
Lady Andromeda blew out a horrified breath. “I do believe he’s taken John to fight the duel.”
James stared at her aghast. “But we told him-”
“My brother is rash and persuasive,” Lady Andromeda broke in
“He can’t,” Meredith exclaimed as she contemplated what that meant. What if something happened to him? My God, how would she survive it? “We can’t allow it.”
“Agreed.” Lady Andromeda stretched out a hand. “Come with me. We’ll stop them. Perhaps, John will listen to ye.”
“We’ll all stop them,” James bit out.
“Stop who?” Edward asked from the stairs, his hair and clothing disheveled.
“Our idiotic brother,” James ground out. “He’s going to fight that damned duel.”
Edward groaned. “He will insist on doing things his way.”
“Do not speak ill of him,” Merry demanded. “He is above all of you.”
James’ brows rose. “You’re right. In many ways. And since I just spent the better half of the last two hours obtaining a special license for you to wed him come morning, I’m glad to hear of your affection.”
Meredith gave a tight nod. There was no point in denying it. “I care. Deeply. Now let us go.”
“Done,” James proclaimed.
“My coach is outside,” Lady Andromeda offered.
“Good. I’ll go immediately,” James said.
“We all will,” Meredith cut in.
“No. In hindsight, its better if you stay-”
“What makes you think he shall listen to you?” she pointed out. “You heard Lady Andromeda. He has already shown that he will not take heed of you in this regard.”
A pained look crossed the duke’s face. “Fine then. We all go. But ye’ll stay out of the fray, Meredith. I’ve enough to recriminate myself over regarding ye.”
“I’ve no interest in engaging in the battle,” she assured. “But let us not stand here negotiating.”
Meredith whipped around and ran out the entrance, down the dark steps and threw herself into the waiting coach.
She wasn’t about to let the man she was finally going to marry throw his life away over this debacle. For at long last, she knew, out of all the men she’d ever met, John was the only one who would keep her interest for her entire life. And she was not about to give that up. Nor was she going to allow him to be hurt.
Not ever again.