frowned. None of this was making any sense. “I thought what happened was all in the past. Surely you are not here to resurrect old infamies, not after all of these years.”
“Actually, I am here to defend Danielle Duval’s honor, as I should have done five years ago. You see, I made the mistake of believing you and not her. It is a mistake I mean to rectify—once and for all.”
“W-what are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, Rafe pulled a white cotton glove out of the inside pocket of his morning coat. He slapped the glove hard across Oliver’s cheeks, first one and then the other. “Danielle Duval was innocent of any wrongdoing the night I found the two of you together, but you, sir, were not. Now you will pay for the damage you’ve done and the lives you have ruined. You have the choice of weapons.”
“I don’t…I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Actually, you do. As you are the one who forged the note I received and paid the footman, Willard Coote, to see it delivered, you know exactly what I mean. I’ll expect you to meet me tomorrow at dawn on the knoll at Green Park. These men will act as my seconds. If you refuse, as you did before, I will find you and shoot you where you stand. Now choose your weapon.”
So…the truth had finally come out. Oliver had begun to believe it never would, begun to think he had won the game completely. Now, five years later, he wondered if the price he would pay for the revenge he had attained would be worth it.
“Pistols,” he said finally. “You may count on my arrival at Green Park at dawn.”
“One last question… Ollie. Why did you do it? What did I do to you to deserve such a cruel form of punishment?”
A corner of Oliver’s mouth twisted up. “You were simply you, Rafael. From the time we were children, you weretaller and smarter and better looking. You were heir to a dukedom that included a fabulous fortune. You were a better athlete, a more charming guest, a better lover. Every woman wanted to marry you. When Danielle fell under your spell, I was determined you would never have her.” His smile turned harsh. “And so I destroyed any chance for you to have the one thing you truly wanted.”
The duke exploded, grabbing the lapels of Oliver’s robe and hauling him up on his toes. “I’m going to kill you, Oliver. You may have accomplished what you set out to, but you are going to pay for what you have done.”
Both the earl and marquess rushed forward.
“Let him go, Rafael,” Brant said, his golden eyes burning into the cold blue eyes that belonged to his friend. “You’ll have your vengeance in the morning.”
“Give him time to ponder his fate,” said the black-haired Marquess of Belford, as if he knew the sort of fear time could breed.
The strong fingers squeezing his robe together beneath his chin slowly loosened.
“Time to go,” Belford said to the duke. “By now the servants have probably called a watchman. As Cord says, tomorrow is another day.”
Sheffield released him, shoving him away so hard he crashed into the mantel on the fireplace, sending a jolt of pain up his arm. But Oliver’s fear was slowly fading, replaced by an iron resolve. He had prepared himself for this day. Perhaps fate had given him a final chance to win the game.
“We’ll see who winds up dead,” Oliver taunted as the three men started for the door. “I’m not the same weak man I was five years ago.”
The men ignored him, just continued out of the drawing room, Belford limping slightly, an old wound perhaps. Oliver wasn’t acquainted with him well enough to know.
The door closed in the entry as the men left the house, and Oliver sank down on the brocade sofa. So he would face the Duke of Sheffield at last. There was a time he’d been sure this day would come. He had bought a set of dueling pistols and practiced with them daily, until he had become a very skillful marksman.
For the past few years, he had begun to think
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley