Rosemary Stevens Read Online Free

mention the added motive: that Mr. Jacombe had insulted Miss Lavender. My protective feeling toward the lieutenant was enough in and of itself.
    Prinny nodded slowly. “Very well. But after the duel, you are to come directly to Carlton House and tell me what the devil happened.”
    “It shall be as you say, sir.”
    Just then, I saw John, Count Boruwlaski, a dwarf the Prince has befriended, walking in our direction. Standing only two feet and four inches, the Count’s child-like size often causes Prinny to treat the man as a little boy. My patience with this sort of behaviour is, er, short.
    “Excuse me,” I began, but, his attention diverted, the Prince had already turned away to greet his friend. I walked in the direction of the soldiers, hoping for a word with Nevill. More precisely, I was hoping to convince him to abandon the idea of the duel and to send Mr. Jacombe a note of apology. I could fight the man myself. I did not have much hope for this plan, but I felt I must try.
    I was halted in my tracks by the vision of Frederica, the Duchess of York, accompanied by her husband, Prinny’s brother, the Duke of York. She saw me at the same time and offered me a small smile.
    “Good evening, George,” she said in her light, sweet voice. Tonight she wore an elegant gown of fine white India muslin, scalloped around the bottom and with long sleeves laced with gold twist. A bandeau made of pearls and white satin held her curly brown hair back from her face.
    “Your Royal Highness, may I say how lovely you look tonight? More luminescent in that white gown than the moon.”
    “Thank you George,” she replied, one gloved hand entwined in the crook of her husband’s arm. I felt a knot entwine around my heart at the sight of that hand.
    Freddie, as I am privileged to call her in private, had been my closest female friend until recently. You might remember my telling you another time about that sordid situation regarding a letter from the Royal Duchess I foolishly kept and the murders it inspired. Yes? Well then you know that our relationship has been strained since that time.
    The other impediment to any closeness between us stood next to her: her husband. The tall, cold man who is the Duke of York greeted me. “Brummell, what’s this I hear about a duel between Jacombe and some nobody? Are you involved?”
    Freddie’s eyes rounded at her husband’s words. She looked to me for an explanation.
    My heart sank. How would Freddie feel about my being involved in a duel?
    Unfortunately, I think I know.
    Blast.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Damn Fairingdale. For I was sure he was the reason why every cursed person at Vauxhall knew about the duel. I felt my frustration increasing—and not just about the proposed pistols at dawn, I thought, as I gazed upon Freddie.
    I especially did not want to speak of the duel to the Duke and Freddie. Being near her caused a longing for a return of our previous closeness. Any possibility of making amends would be put back even further if Freddie thought I was out fighting duels.
    “Mr. Jacombe insulted a soldier’s lady,” I responded.
    The Duke of York is the Commander-in-Chief of England’s land forces. I hoped that by making it clear one of the duelists was a soldier, the Duke’s curiosity might be satisfied.
    “Who is he?”
    “Lieutenant Nevill.”
    The Duke concentrated for a moment. “Never heard of him.”
    “His grandfather recently purchased a commission for him.”
    “Who is his grandfather?”
    “Elsworth Nevill.”
    “What? Old Elsworth? I thought him six feet under, but no, stay a moment. He’s a recluse, isn’t he? Not been seen out of the house these past five years since his only son died.”
    “How terrible,” Freddie said.
    “From what I understand, that is true,” I said. The lieutenant had said as much during that long talk Saturday night. “Nevill told me that his father drank himself to death over his mother’s wild ways. She is somewhere on the Continent