Pistols for Two

‘Mr Wadworth. We have known him for ever, and he is one of Charlie’s seconds. It was he who told me about it. I made him do so. I promised I would not disclose to Charlie that he had breathed a word to me, so what can I do but throw myself upon Lord Rotherfield’s mercy?’

‘Lord Rotherfield, as you are aware, has no mercy. You would, moreover, be doing Mr Wadworth a vast disservice if you were to betray to anyone the impropriety of his conduct in speaking one word to you on this subject.’

‘Oh, dear, I would not injure him for the world, poor Bernard! But I have told you already, sir!’

‘Your confidence is quite safe in my keeping.’

She smiled engagingly up at him. ‘Indeed, I know it must be! You are so very kind! But I am determined to see Lord Rotherfield.’

‘And I am determined that you shall return to your home. Rotherfield’s is no house for you to visit in this style. Good God, if it should become known that you had done so – !’

She got up, clasping her hands. ‘Yes, but it is desperate! If anything were to happen to Charlie, it would kill Mama! I assure you, it is of no consequence what becomes of me! Augusta says I am bound to ruin myself, because I have no notion how I should go on, so I might as well ruin myself now as later, don’t you think?’

‘I do not!’ he replied, laughing. ‘Oh, don’t look so much distressed, you absurd child! Will you trust me to see that no harm comes to your tiresome brother?’

She stared at him, sudden hope in her eyes. ‘You, sir? Oh, will you see Lord Rotherfield, and explain to him that it was only that poor Charlie has been so sadly indulged, because my father died when he was a little boy, and Mama would not let him go to school, or permit anyone to cross him, and he has only just come to town, and he does not know how to guard his temper, or –’

He interrupted this tumbled speech, possessing himself of one agitated little hand, and kissing it lightly. ‘Rest assured I will not allow Lord Rotherfield to hurt poor Charlie at all!’

‘Will he listen to you?’ she asked doubtfully. ‘Augusta’s particular friend, Miss Stanstead, says he is a very proud, disagreeable man, and cares nothing for anyone’s opinion.’

‘Very true, but I have it in my power to compel him to do what I wish. You may safely trust in me.’

She heaved a relieved sigh, and again the enchanting smile trembled on her lips. ‘Oh yes! I do, sir! It is the oddest thing, for, to own the truth, I was a little afraid when you pulled back the curtain. You looked at me in such a way! But that was quite my own fault, and I saw in a trice that there was not the smallest need for me to be afraid. You are so very kind! I don’t know how I may thank you.’

‘Forget that I looked at you in such a way, and I shall be satisfied. I am going to take you home now. I think you said that no one knew you had left the house. Have you the means to enter it again without being seen by the servants?’ She nodded, a gleam of mischief in her big eyes. The amusement in his deepened. ‘Abominable girl! Lady Saltwood has my sincere sympathy!’

‘I know I have behaved shockingly,’ she said contritely. ‘But what was I to do? And you must own that it has come about for the best, sir! For I have saved Charlie, and I know you will never tell anyone what a scrape I have been in. I hope – I hope you don’t truthfully think me abominable?’

‘If I were to tell you what I truthfully think, I should be abominable. Come! I must convey you home, my little one.’

2

Never did a young gentleman embarking on his first affair of honour receive less encouragement from his seconds than Lord Saltwood received from Sir Francis Upchurch and Mr Wadworth. Sir Francis, being inarticulate, did little more than shake his head, but Mr Wadworth, presuming upon an acquaintance with his principal which dated from the cradle, did not hesitate to speak his mind. ‘Made a dashed cake of yourself!’ he said.

‘Worse!’ said Sir Francis, contributing his mite.

‘Much worse!’ corroborated Mr Wadworth. ‘Devilish bad ton, Charlie! You were foxed, of course.’

‘I wasn’t. At least, not very much.’

‘Drunk as a wheelbarrow. I don’t say you showed it, but you must have been!’

‘Stands to reason!’ said Sir Francis.

‘No right to bully Torryburn into taking you to the Corinthian Club in the first place. Above your touch, my boy! Told you so, when you asked me to take you. No right to have stayed there after Rotherfield gave you that set-down.’

Lord Saltwood ground his teeth. ‘He need not have said that!’

‘No, I dare say he need not. Got a nasty tongue. But that don’t signify. You’d no right to accuse him of using Fulhams!’

Sir Francis shuddered, and closed his eyes for an anguished moment.

‘Ought to have begged his pardon then and there,’ pursued Mr Wadworth relentlessly. ‘Instead of that, dashed well forced a quarrel on him!’

‘If he hadn’t told a waiter – a waiter! – to show me out – !’

‘Ought to have called for the porter,’ agreed Sir Francis. He then perceived that this amiable response had failed to please his fiery young friend, and begged pardon. A powerful thought assailed him. He turned his eyes towards Mr Wadworth, and said suddenly: ‘You know what, Bernie? He shouldn’t have accepted Charlie’s challenge. Must know he ain’t been on the town above six months!’