Barbara Metzger by The Duel Read Free Book Online

physicians.”
    Ian remembered how light the boy had felt in his arms, and wondering why he was not at school. “Bloody hell. I shot an invalid.”

Chapter Four
    In adversity, a proud man stands tall, like an oak.
    —Anonymous
    In adversity, a wise woman bends, like a willow. Which one breaks first?
    —Anonymous’s wife
    The fevers started that night. Ian did not know until late, because Carswell urged him to attend the dinner party at Lady Waltham’s, an invitation he had already accepted.
    “Gossip thrives on bare ground,” Carswell had told him. “If you are not there to refute the stories, they will grow like magic beanstalks, touching the sky. But if you act as if nothing is wrong, the seeds of doubt cannot take root.”
    “What, are you a farmer now?”
    “And get my hands dirty? Never. I do know the ton, however, and the rumormongers. They will have it that you were wounded by the dastard, or that you killed him and shipped his body out of England. Heaven knows what story they will concoct, if they have nothing to grasp.”
    So Ian had gone out for the evening, after dispatching a note to Rensdale by one of his own footmen, rather than waiting for the post. After the dinner party, he had accompanied his friend to a ball and then a rout, where too many people gathered in too small a space.
    He had danced and drunk and played a hand or two of cards. He had eaten lobster patties and paid false compliments to his hostesses. He’d held conversations about the weather, the war, and who were partners for the next waltz. If anyone mentioned Paige or the duel, he’d pulled out his quizzing glass, examined the questioner with aristocratic arrogance, and ignored the question altogether. He had smiled and nodded, and gone about his way.
    He brushed aside sly winks and innuendoes from the port drinkers and the card players about Lady Paige’s future with a wave of his manicured hand and a hint of censure. “A gentleman does not bandy a lady’s name about.”
    And this gentleman swore he would have nothing to do with the female or any of her kind again. Lady Paige’s affairs were, thankfully, no longer any of his affair. He’d broken off their relationship at the first sign of Paige’s anger. That was, regrettably, when the dirty dish had issued his challenge, and far too late.
    No matter. Ian was done with the woman who had never been more than a brief bit of gratification, anyway, a minor itch to scratch. Mona had made her own bed…and her bower in the gazebo, her bunk in the barn, and her berth behind the bushes. For certain, she would no longer be welcomed at the higher levels of polite society.
    If Ian heard whispers of Mad Dog Marden, he ignored them, too. His friends knew that nickname referred to his daring steeplechase races, not a vicious temper. He was coolheaded, in control. He was the perfect gentleman of leisure, his slightly bored indifference indicating nothing on his mind but the next offering at Drury Lane Theatre.
    Lud, the earl thought, he should be offered a role in the coming play. His face ached from maintaining the polite smile, his neck was growing stiff from holding his head so high, and his stomach was queasy from all he had eaten or drunk this benighted day.
    Finally, people stopped asking him questions or whispering behind his back. They were all speculating about the increasing Lady Ingersoll—and her handsome head gardener. Bless those who made things grow—and who gave London something else to talk about besides a duel gone bad.
    Even Ian could almost believe that nothing was wrong with his world but an upset stomach, until he reached his front walk. He stepped out of the carriage and into evidence of his unwelcome, unwanted, unavoidable guests and their ugly dog.
    Barefoot and bilious, he stomped into his house and immediately promoted one of the footmen to kennel master, in charge of one stone-deaf, snappish dog and its accompanying mess.
    Then he went into his library, preceded