The Handmaiden's Necklace by Kat Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

he wouldn’t need the weapons. Now it appeared that he would.
    Oliver almost smiled. Rafael wanted vengeance. Oliver knew the feeling well. In a way, he was glad Rafe knew what had happened that night. It would make his victory all the sweeter. Tomorrow, if he got lucky, he would see his nemesis dead.
     
    A thin fog hung over the knoll. The grass was deep and wet, forming beads of dew on the men’s leather boots. The first thin rays of dawn spread over the horizon, enough to outline the two black carriages parked at the edge of the grassy field below.
    Ethan stood next to Cord beneath a tall sycamore tree, next to the two men who had accompanied Lord Oliver Randall. In the open space at the top of the knoll, his best friend, Rafael Saunders, Duke of Sheffield, stood back to back with the man who had ruined his life, Oliver Randall, third son of the Marquess of Caverly.
    Randall was perhaps two inches shorter than Rafe, with a slightly leaner build, auburn hair and brown eyes. He had nothing of the power and command that Rafe alwaysseemed to have, and yet Ethan hoped his friend hadn’t underestimated his enemy.
    Word was, Oliver Randall was a very skillful marksman, one of the best in London.
    Then again, so was Rafe.
    The countdown began, Cord calling out the numbers, the men taking long strides away from each other as the steps were counted off. “Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”
    Both men turned at exactly the same instant, casting their bodies into profile. They lifted their long-barreled, silver-etched dueling pistols and fired.
    Two distinct shots rang out, echoing over the knoll. For several seconds neither man moved, then Oliver Randall swayed on his feet and went down, crumpling into the wet grass on the knoll.
    His seconds ran forward, two faint shadows in the purple rays of dawn, along with the surgeon, Neil McCauley, a friend who had agreed to come along. Both Cord and Ethan started toward the men, Ethan’s blood still pumping, though some of his worry began to fade as he saw Rafe standing there, apparently unharmed.
    Then he spotted the bright patch of blood that appeared on Rafael’s sleeve, though Rafe didn’t seem to notice. Instead he strode toward Oliver Randall.
    Bent over the injured man, Dr. McCauley looked up at the duke. “It’s bad. I’m not sure he’ll make it.”
    “Do the best you can,” Rafe said. Turning, he strode toward Ethan, who caught up with him at the edge of the knoll.
    “How badly are you injured?” Ethan asked, shoving back a strand of wavy black hair that fell across his forehead.
    For the first time, Rafe seemed to realize he had been shot. “Nothing too serious, I don’t think. Hurts a bit, not too badly.”
    Cord walked up just then. “My house is closest, and the women are there. Let’s get you home and get that arm taken care of.” Cord glanced toward the knoll. “Looks like McCauley has his hands full with Randall, but my wife is a fairly good nurse.”
    Rafe just nodded. His jaw clenched with pain several times as they moved over the grass toward the carriage, but his mind seemed miles away.
    Oliver Randall had been dealt with. Still, there were other matters of honor that would need to be mended. Danielle’s name would have to be cleared, Ethan knew, her innocence made known to society.
    Ethan wondered what steps Rafe next intended to take.

Five
    R afe leaned back in the chair behind his desk. A mild June sun streamed through the mullioned windows, warming the room, but it didn’t improve his mood. His arm was throbbing, yet the wound, thankfully, had proved to be minor. The lead ball had gone through the fleshy part of his arm without hitting bone and passed out the opposite side.
    Oliver Randall had not been so lucky. The ball had hit a rib beneath his heart, glanced off and lodged in an area near his spine. Neil McCauley had successfully removed the ball but the damage had already been done. Assuming the wound escaped putrefaction, Oliver Randall