Julian had not moved from his relaxed position by the table, but like a tiger with his prey in his sights, his eyes had never left Tynedale's face. "Irregular it may be," he said, "but protocol has been met; by good luck, we have a physician in attendance and certainly we have enough respectable witnesses, in addition to our seconds. There is nothing to prevent the duel from taking place-here and now."

Tynedale gave a curt nod. "I concur. There is nothing for our seconds to discuss."

To Charles, Julian said, "I believe that you have an exceptional pair of swords-we shall use those." His lip curled in contempt. "Unless, of course, Tynedale or his seconds have some objections."

"None," said Tynedale, cursing inwardly that he had lost the advantage.

"Then while Charles goes in search of the weapons, let us prepare," Julian said.

It was clear that there was nothing more to be done; the duel would be fought. Here. Now.

While Charles disappeared in search of the swords, the other gentlemen, some muttering their displeasure, others voicing anxiety and still others with growing excitement, a few even placing wagers on the outcome, swiftly prepared the room. Candelabrums were placed out of danger; the table was moved to the far end; and chairs were shoved out of the way until there was a sizable space cleared in the middle of the large room, revealing in full glory the colors and design of a costly Turkish rug. When Charles returned with the swords, they were examined by the seconds and deemed acceptable. The principles and their seconds retreated to opposite ends of the room, the witnesses lining themselves up along the walls.

"Are you mad?" Marcus hissed the moment he, Charles and Julian were alone.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Julian murmured, "We are agreed, are we not, that he wants killing?"

"Yes, but who decided that it would be you? Charles or I could do it just as easily. You have responsibilities...Or have your forgotten your wife? What about the babe your wife carries?"

Taking the sword Charles handed him, Julian said, "I have not forgotten them and I trust that if the worst happens that you and Charles will look out for them." He hesitated, an anguished expression crossing his face. Thinking of Nell and her grief should he die would do him no good. Nor was this the time to consider the wisdom his actions. He needed a clear head, but he could not leave Nell without a final word. He took a deep breath. "If I should die, tell my wife that I love her, that she brought me immeasurable joy and that my last thought was of her and our child."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Marcus burst out. He glanced at Charles in exasperation. "For God's sake, do something."

"Me? Why should I?" Charles asked. "If my esteemed cousin were unlucky enough to die tonight, I inherit." He flashed Julian a lopsided grin. "Rest assured, my lord, that I shall grieve deeply and I swear to you that I will see that your lady is protected and that no harm comes to her."

Julian sent him a look. "Do you know, I never realized before," he marveled, "that you have, at the most inopportune times, a decidedly flippant attitude."

"Better that than wringing my hands like that old maid, Marcus."

Marcus surged forward, violence in his eyes, but with a swift movement Julian prevented him from reaching his target. "I believe that I am the one fighting a duel," he said quietly. "You two may cut each other to ribbons afterward if you wish, but for now, remember that you are my seconds."

Julian started to turn away, but Charles caught his arm. His expression grim, Charles said thickly, "You do know, my lord, don't you, that if you fall, Tynedale will not outlive you by many moments."

Julian smiled faintly and nodded his dark head. "I never doubted it for a moment-despite your infernal impudence."

Turning away, Julian took off his embroidered waistcoat and laid it on top of his jacket. After rolling up the sleeves of his fine linen shirt, he picked up the sword and tested its balance, finding that memory had not played him false. It was an exquisite weapon. Too exquisite, he thought viciously, to use on Tynedale.

While Julian had been preparing himself, Tynedale had been doing the same and a moment later the two men faced each other. They met in the center of the cleared space, their swords kissing as a prelude to the duel.

In spite of several gentlemen being in the room, the air was hushed as the swords sang against each other for the first time. No one doubted that the duel would go beyond the drawing of first blood; many believed that they would see a man die.

As Julian and Tynedale stalked each other, there was no stylish maneuvering, no intricate footwork meant to draw the admiration and respect of the spectators-this was a duel in which each of the opponents' only thought was to kill the other. It began slowly enough; they had met before and had the measure of the other, and in an elegant dance of death, they tested each other's strengths, looking for an opening, a weakness.

Beyond the muffled sound of the booted feet of the swordsmen on the Turkish rug and the occasional scrape of blade upon blade, there was silence. Julian easily parried Tynedale's feints as they fought, their blades flashing silver in the candlelight. For endless minutes the duel continued: feint, parry, thrust, disengage-only to begin again with neither man finding a clear opening for attack. Then, suddenly, Tynedale's blade slipped under Julian's guard and a long crimson slash appeared on Julian's upper arm.

"Enough!" cried the squire, his features anxious. "You have bloodied your man."

"But I do not claim satisfaction," snarled Tynedale, and lunged at Julian.

Julian danced away from Tynedale's onslaught, only to come back at him, their blades shrieking as steel clashed against steel. His face dark and grim, Julian kept up the attack, relentlessly driving Tynedale backward, his blade striking like lightning, leaving Tynedale's shirt torn and bloody from a dozen small nicks. Tynedale's shirt hung in ribbons on him and he was gasping for breath, but Tynedale was an excellent swordsman and though Julian had been able to inflict insulting damage, he had not been able to find a chink in Tynedale's defense that would allow him the killing thrust.

Perspiration rolled down Tynedale's face as once again his blade met Julian's attack. His wounds stung and bled. His arm ached and his breathing was ragged. He had held Julian off so far, but he knew that he could not do so indefinitely. Fear uncurled like a snake in his belly and any thought of killing his opponent vanished-Tynedale was fighting for his life.

Fear and rage clouding Tynedale's mind, his defenses wavered and in that moment, Julian broke through, his blade whistling across Tynedale's as Julian went for the heart. At the last second, Tynedale moved slightly and instead of finding its mark, Julian's blade sank deeply into Tynedale's shoulder.

Tynedale shrieked and fell to the floor as Julian pulled his blade free. Disgusted Julian stood over his fallen opponent as Tynedale writhed on the floor. Of all the damn things! Julian thought as he stared down at Tynedale. He had failed again. Tynedale would live. To continue the duel would be to commit cold-blooded murder and Julian's honor balked at that-no matter how badly he wished Tynedale dead. Damn and blast!

"Once again you seem to have the Devil's own luck, my lord," Julian said grimly.

Pierce and Raoul ran to their man and helped Tynedale to his feet. Sagging between them, his sword held limply by one side, Tynedale retorted, "Luck had nothing to do with it, my lord. Skill is the thing."

"Indeed. Believe that if you will." Julian glanced around the room. "Tynedale cannot go on. The duel is ended." Turning his back on Tynedale, he began to walk to the other end of the room.

Seeing his enemy walking away from him, realizing that all his schemes and dreams would not come to fruition unless Wyndham died, Tynedale went mad. "No!" he screamed. "It does not end thus!"

Astonishing everyone, Tynedale threw off the hands of his seconds and stood swaying in the middle of the room.

Julian turned back to Tynedale. His cold gaze swept up and down Tynedale. "Even the desire to eradicate vermin such as you will not compel me to commit murder." Contempt in every movement, Julian spun on his heels and walked away.

Tynedale gave a strangled cry and charged after Julian. It was clear that in his maddened state Tynedale intended to drive his blade into Julian's unprotected back.

There was a horrified gasp from the gentlemen watching and Charles and Marcus lunged forward simultaneously, Charles shouting, "Julian, your back!"

Julian whirled around and dropping to one knee, countered Tynedale's attack, his blade thrusting clean and true straight to Tynedale's heart. With Julian's sword sunk deep into his heart Tynedale staggered backward, his eyes full of disbelief. His sword dropped; he tried to speak and fell to the floor, dead.

Standing over Tynedale's body Julian stared dully at him, wondering that he felt nothing. He had thought with Tynedale's death that the despair and guilt over Daniel's death would lift, but it did not. Even the knowledge that Tynedale had paid dearly for the upheaval he had wrought in Nell's life did not bring him gratification. There was no exultation of having beaten his enemy, not even a feeling of satisfaction or one of relief that he had finally kept his vow and avenged Daniel. He was aware only of a great weariness and of a powerful need to see Nell, to hold her in his arms and feel her soft body next his.

A babble arose in the dining room, some gentlemen rushing forward to congratulate Julian; others shaking their heads and muttering direful prophesies and deploring the lack of decorum and manners in the younger generation...and it was several moments before order was restored. Silence reigned when Tynedale's body was carried from the room. There was no question that the death was justified and Julian need not fear that there would be any repercussions from this night's work. Too many gentlemen had seen the duel itself to keep it a secret and Julian never entertained any idea of being able to muzzle those in attendance. As for gossip, and there would be an abundance...Well, that couldn't be helped. He would, he decided wearily, just have to deal with it.

It was some time before the room was set to rights, but eventually all signs that a deadly duel had been fought on the very floor beneath Mrs. Weston's long mahogany table were erased. Julian's wound, amidst much low-voiced scolding by Dr. Coleman, was cleaned and dressed; Marcus helped him into his waistcoat and jacket. Charles expertly twitched his cravat back into some semblance of its former elegant arrangement.

"A bad business," Squire Chadbourne said to him shortly as several gentlemen gathered around him. "A very bad business."

Julian nodded. "I cannot deny it and I take no pride in my part in it."

Lord Beckworth snorted. "But you meant to kill him, didn't you?"

"If fate was kind," Julian murmured.

"Well, you are very lucky to have escaped with nothing more than a scratch," remarked Coleman sternly. "I hope that you will take my advice and rest that arm for a few days." A faint gleam of amusement leaped into his eyes. "And avoid fighting another duel anytime soon."

"I don't think you have anything to fear," Julian said dryly. "Dueling is not my forte and if..." He looked away, thinking of young Daniel and Nell. "There were reasons," he finally offered, taking a sip of his brandy.

"There always are," Beckworth commented. "Let us hope that whatever your reasons were that they were worth a man's life."

Standing beside Julian, Charles said, "Oh, they were worth it."

"Without a doubt," added Marcus, lounging nearby.

Beckworth stared at the three cousins. "Like that, was it?"

"Like that," Julian said.

When the others wandered off and Julian, Marcus and Charles were left standing alone, Charles asked, "That went rather well, don't you think?"

Marcus made a face. "I'd have liked it better if Julian had not been wounded."

Several of the gentlemen were preparing to leave the dining room and Julian was not looking forward to the next half hour. In theory, gentlemen did not discuss duels with the fairer sex, but Julian didn't doubt that once the gentlemen joined the ladies that the cat would be out of the bag-and amongst the pigeons. He groaned. What had he been thinking of? A duel fought in his aunt's dining room! Good God, he was not some hotheaded youth ripe for excitement and danger! He was a soberly married man, with a child on the way. It didn't matter that Tynedale needed killing-surely he could have thought of another way?

He caught Charles looking at him, a smile on his lips. "What?" Julian demanded.

Shaking his head, Charles said, "For once you acted without thinking of the consequences and you're already regretting it."

Marcus glanced at Julian. "Are you?"

Julian made a face. "Not Tynedale's death, but I could have chosen a more, ah, respectable venue."

"My stepmother's dining room isn't respectable enough for you?"

"You know very well what I mean," Julian replied irritably. "You're the rascal in the family, I don't do this sort of thing-you do!"

"Hmmm, yes, I do," agreed Charles looking over the rim of his snifter at Julian, his eyes bright and amused. He grinned at Julian. "And I must say, dear fellow, I couldn't have done it better!"

Chapter 20.

Julian's fear that news of the duel would fly like wildfire around Mrs. Weston's saloon was unfounded. Apparently none of the gentlemen felt compelled to whisper a word of the stunning occurrence in the dining room into the receptive ears of their female companions when he and the others rejoined the ladies. But the party, to Mrs. Weston's mystification, did seem to end rather abruptly. Julian was glad that it would be left to Charles to break the news of the duel to her-if Raoul didn't beat him to it.

His shoulder ached but Julian was able to act normally until he and Nell had bid the others good night and driven home. After that there was no hiding from her what had happened, unless he intended to avoid any intimacy with her until he was fully healed. A slow smiled crossed his mouth as he gingerly slipped into a heavy silk robe. It would take a great deal more than a wounded arm to keep him from Nell's bed.

Nell was horrified when he confessed the evening's events. When he showed her where Tynedale's blade had cut him, she stared for a long time at the white bandages that covered the wound, her hands clutched to her heart.

"You might have died!" she finally managed. "You could have been killed while I sat drinking tea in the saloon." Rage shook her and she pounded his chest with her fists. "How dare you risk your life that way! How dare you!"

"But, sweetheart, aren't you happy that Tynedale is dead?" asked Julian nonplused. "He is no longer any sort of a threat to us. Doesn't that make you happy?"

"Happy?" she shouted. "Happy that you nearly got killed? Are you mad?" Her rage faded as quickly as it had arisen. "Oh, Julian," she cried, throwing herself into his arms with such force that he winced. "I love you! My life would have ended if he had killed you." Her head against his chest, she gulped back a sob and held him tighter. "Promise me you'll never do something so foolish again. Promise me! I could not bear it if something happened to you."

Julian smiled and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Nothing is going to happen to me-I swear it."

With one hand she caressed the site of the wound. "Does it hurt terribly?"

He started to deny it but then a crafty thought entered his head. "Perhaps a little...If I could just lie here on the bed beside you for a trifle longer?"

Her face full of tender solicitation, Nell helped him shed his robe and slide into her bed. Mindful of his wound, she snuggled next to his naked body, careful not to cause him any pain by her movements on the bed. "Is this better?" she asked.

His fingers plucked at the hem of her gown. "Perhaps if you would just...ah, much better," he murmured, urging her gown upward, his hands skimming over her body before lingering at the juncture of her thighs, clearly revealing his intentions. With delight his fingers discovered the sweet, hot moisture between her legs.

"What of your wound?" Nell got out, her eyes blurred with desire.

He smiled lazily at her in the glow of the candle near the bed. "If you will help me I promise that we shall do just fine."

Bending his head, he caught her lower lip and bit gently just as his fingers stretched her and pushed into her. Nell arched up against his hand, pleasure flooding her. She reached for him, almost purring when her fingers closed around the hard length of him.

Already wild for her, he shifted and with his good arm, pulled and urged her astride him. It took only a moment to sheathe his swollen length within her and after that, as he had promised, they did just fine.

The news of the extraordinary duel and Tynedale's death caused a stir-not only in the district but also throughout England. The death of a peer in a duel was not unheard of, but the circumstances and the history between Tynedale and Julian made it a topic of great speculation and interest. It helped that the Season had just begun and that many members of society were still away at their country estates, most busy closing down their great houses and packing up their families for the trek to London. Because a large portion of the ton was scattered throughout England, the news did not reach everyone at once but traveled erratically through the countryside.

If the residents of Wyndham Manor had not already decided not to make an appearance in London this particular Season, the duel and its attendant scandal would have certainly made them do so. The advisability of changing plans and going to London to let the Polite World know that there was no reason for Julian, or any of his family, to hide away in the country, was discussed by the family. Nell had never liked the Season and since her advancing pregnancy gave her an excellent excuse to remain at Wyndham Manor, she was adamant: the others could go if they wished, but she was staying home.

Ordinarily, Lady Diana and Elizabeth would have been all agog to return to London, but both of them were excited about the renovations to the Dower House and neither particularly wanted to run the gamut of gossip their appearance in town would cause.

As Lady Diana had said, "It is one thing to be invited to all the most exclusive balls and soirees because of one's rank and position and another to be invited because everyone wants to know every unsavory detail of a disgusting duel."

That Lady Diana might have another reason for remaining in the country only dawned on Julian three weeks later when he realized that Lord Beckworth was a frequent visitor these days to Wyndham Manor-and to the Dower House. Discovering his lordship wandering around the grounds of the Dower House with Lady Diana hanging on his arm as Beckworth patiently explained the various stages of construction of her new kitchen, Julian didn't think much of it. But then finding Beckworth at his dinner table for the third evening out of five, even Julian became aware that something was going on right in front of him.

Walking through the gardens late one morning with Nell, Julian remarked, "Is it my imagination or is Beckworth practically living in my stepmother's pocket?"

Nell giggled. "No, it is not your imagination. Isn't it wonderful? I wonder if he will make her an offer? Elizabeth and I are most hopeful that there will be a wedding this fall."

Julian looked aghast. "Diana marry that old man?"

"He's younger than your father and she married him, didn't she?" Nell responded tartly.

"Well, yes, but that was..." He stopped, at a loss.

"Different?" Nell supplied and when he nodded, she asked, "How so?"

Julian shrugged. "I can't explain it." He shook his head. "I guess whenever I even considered the possibility of her remarrying I assumed that it would be to someone nearer her own age."

Nell glanced at him curiously. "Would you dislike it if she were to marry Lord Beckworth?"

"No, I suppose not-if that is what she wants."

Nell smiled. "I think it is exactly what she wants, although she is being very coy with Elizabeth and me whenever we tax her about her new swain. She denies that there is anything between them, but there is a look in her eyes..." She sighed, a dreamy expression crossing her face. "I'm sure that when they marry he will make her very happy."

When Julian continued to look skeptical, she said, "If you stop and think about it, it makes perfect sense."

"How did you come to that conclusion?" he asked with a lifted brow.

"Her first marriage to a man her own age was...Well, I gather from things Elizabeth let slip that her parents married very young and were not happy together. It's obvious that Lady Diana adored your father and that their marriage was a happy one. So when another older, respectable gentleman expresses an interest in her it is only logical that she would be receptive." Nell looked thoughtful. "In fact I would hazard a guess that she would repulse the advances of a younger man-equating him with her first husband."