"Damn," Griffin swore again, "Jarrod had hoped Dunbridge would give the ladies wide berth."
"Why?" Lady Garrison was curious.
"Because they asked Lord Shepherdston to keep Lord Dunbridge away from them." Griffin shook his head. "But it seems even Dunbridge is determined to make something of his visit here tonight — if only more bad memories."
"Why? How?" Lord Garrison demanded.
But Griffin had already left the group and was striding across the ballroom, ignoring the ache in his injured thigh. Colin followed close behind him. Lord Garrison was slower off the mark, but he soon followed as well.
* * * * *
Alyssa clucked her tongue as the three women stood and watched their husbands cross the ballroom. The crowd had parted like the Red Sea before Moses when Griffin began crossing the floor and now Alyssa, Anne, and Gillian had a clear view of the edge of the dance floor where Lord Shepherdston and Lord Dunbridge stood facing each other like two dogs squabbling over a bone and with Sarah Eckersley caught in the middle. "This doesn't bode well for Miss Eckersley."
Anne agreed. "A disappearance into the garden with Lord Shepherdston, two dances, and now two gentlemen fighting over her."
"They haven't actually danced one entire dance," Gillian corrected, "but now the gossips will have them dancing every dance together."
"And she's been sitting on the sidelines with her aunt and Lord Mayhew ever since they returned from their tour of the garden," Alyssa said.
* * * * *
Lord Garrison caught up with Griff and Colin as they made their way across the room. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Dunbridge just slapped Jarrod across the face with his glove," Colin answered in a low voice, mindful of the guests who were ignorant of the drama taking place.
"And we need to see that those two guests behave themselves," Griff added. "We don't want Anne's party ruined by another scandal or the floors ruined with spilled blood."
Griff, Richard Garrison, and Colin arrived just as Dunbridge spat out the challenge, "Now, you'll have an appointment with me at the dueling oak at dawn on the morrow."
Jarrod grabbed hold of Lord Dunbridge's glove and snatched it out of his hand. "I have a full schedule tomorrow," he warned. "I would prefer not to have to fit killing you into it."
"This is no jesting matter, Lord Shepherdston," Dunbridge cautioned. "I'm not jesting."
"I've issued a challenge," Dunbridge reminded him. "An honorable gentleman would respond."
"I have responded by telling you that I've neither the time nor the inclination to meet you at the dueling oak at dawn." Jarrod narrowed his gaze at Dunbridge and spoke in his coldest tone of voice, hoping the fool would take the hint and save his own life. "Dueling is frowned upon. And you haven't enough blood in reserve or internal organs to spare to survive an encounter with me."
"Pick your seconds," Dunbridge ordered. "For I will be at the oak with mine at dawn on the morrow." He turned on his heel and blanched when he recognized Griffin and Lord Garrison, but managed to recover enough to bow to Sarah and say his farewells. "Until the morrow, my dear. Good night, my lords. Your Grace."
"Your glove, Lord Dunbridge." Jarrod waved the article beneath the other man's nose. "I doubt Brummell would approve of your leaving one of an expensive matched set behind."
"Jarrod," Griffin said when Dunbridge made his exit, "we do not need this type of notoriety."
"I'm aware of that, Your Grace."
"But we will be honored to stand beside you whatever your intentions."
Jarrod understood. "Thank you, Your Grace, but I prefer not to discuss dancing and duels in the same breath or to provide this assemblage with more fodder for gossip." A muscle began to tick in Jarrod's clenched jaw as he struggled to keep a rein on his temper. "But I assure you my intentions are honorable, for I intend to dance this dance with Miss Eckersley. And since Her Grace asked me to stand in your stead for the last waltz, I'm going to dance that one with her and then I'm going to be about my business for the evening and let tomorrow resolve itself."
"Very well," Griffin said. "We'll leave you to it."
* * * * *
The crowd was buzzing by the time Jarrod led Sarah onto the dance floor once again. And the buzz of the gossip had an ominous ring to it. The scene that had taken place had been embellished to the point of legend in a matter of minutes. Fanciful new versions of confrontation between Lord Shepherdston and Lord Dunbridge were occurring at an alarming rate and the only constant was the names of the participants. By morning, Sarah's good name and reputation would be reduced to tatters.
"Oh, Jays, I'm so sorry," Sarah apologized. "This is all my fault."
"It's Dunbridge's fault," Jarrod told her. "Because he won't take no for an answer."