She drew her cloak more tightly around her, trying to ward off the cold. But the chill in her heart was due to more than the damp fog blanketing the countryside. It was fear, pure and simple.
“I wish we could go faster,” she muttered, feeling the urgency anew.
Freddie gave a snort of protest in response. “If we go any faster, I’ll land us in a ditch, and I value my horses too much to cripple them. Besides, we have ample time. The duel won’t start before full light. You must be able to see your opponent, you know.”
His sardonic drawl made Madeline suspect that she had wounded his sensibilities.
“Thank you for driving me, Freddie,” she murmured contritely in an effort to soothe his ruffled feathers, adding a low muttered oath, “Devil take it, I cannot believe this is actually happening.”
“Nor can I,” Freddie agreed. “Rayne is the most sensible man of my acquaintance, even if he is prone to excess gallantry. For the life of me, I cannot understand what has come over him.”
Madeline could not understand Rayne’s adamancy either. “I know. Even if he escapes unscathed, he could face a scandal if he merely wounds Lord Ackerby.”
Freddie digested her comment for a moment, then shook his head. “I should have thought of that. Rayne will want to handle the duel discreetly, of course—for his grandmother’s sake if nothing else. Lady Haviland will be livid if he stains the family name more than he already has.”
“That is scarcely any consolation,” Madeline replied darkly.
“Perhaps not. But pray don’t distract me any further if you want us to reach London in one piece.”
She didn’t bother pointing out that Freddie was the one who had been arguing with her nonstop ever since arriving at Danvers Hall to collect her.
Instead, Madeline held her tongue and concentrated on trying to quell the acid rising in her stomach from anxiety in addition to her nausea from the sway and jolt of the curricle.
At least the fog had dissipated a small measure by the time Freddie finally drew his pair to a halt at the edge of a verdant meadow.
Madeline’s stomach clenched again as she stared through the dripping mist. There was just enough light for her to see that several carriages had arrived before them, and that a small knot of men had gathered near the center of the field.
“I thought you said they would not begin before full dawn,” she exclaimed in dismay.
Not waiting for Freddie to reply or assist her in dismounting, she leapt down from the curricle and charged across the meadow. The hem of her skirts instantly became sodden in the wet grass, impeding her progress further, but iron chains could not have held her back.
Much as she expected, when she marched out onto the dueling field, astonished silence greeted her arrival. She appeared to be a widow in mourning, Madeline knew, with her drab cloak and black bonnet and veil, but Rayne clearly recognized her, judging by his scowl, as did Lord Ackerby.
Not giving them time to react, she pressed her advantage of surprise. “Good morning, gentlemen. I fear you rose early for naught, for I must insist that you call off this illegal enterprise.”
The men had been examining two cases containing exquisitely crafted pistols, no doubt inspecting the priming and trigger mechanisms. Standing closest to Rayne was a wiry, sharp-faced man garbed in plain dark clothing whom she assumed was Rayne’s second, while the fancy older gentleman beside Ackerby must be acting for the baron.
Rayne’s lips thinned in disapproval, while his second’s eyebrows rose in unabashed curiosity and amusement.
Madeline, however, could find nothing amusing about grown men putting bullets in one another, and she intended to stop it, even if she had to put herself in the path of the duelers.
But first she had to contend with Rayne, who looked none too happy to see her.
“What the devil are you doing here?” he asked in a grim tone. “You know you don’t belong here.”
“I beg to differ,” Madeline said calmly, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. “You were fighting over me, so I believe that gives me some say in the matter.”
His voice was as stern as she had ever heard it. “You have no say whatsoever.”
“Indeed I do,” she retorted. “I have no desire to be the cause of a scandal. If you kill each other, it will get out that I was the center of your quarrel, and my good name will be utterly ruined. Well, I will not allow it.”
Ignoring her declaration, Rayne glanced beyond her at Freddie, who had traipsed across the meadow more slowly and was now hanging his head. “Lunsford, take her away immediately, if you please.”
“He does not please, Lord Haviland,” Madeli
ne answered for Freddie. “And I am not leaving until you end this ridiculous challenge.” She moved between the two opposing camps. “I warn you, if you mean to continue, you will have to fire through me.”
Rayne’s jaw hardened even further. “I will have you forcibly removed, sweeting.”