The Rake's Redemption

Perhaps it was time to stop provoking Miss Stockton.

Bertram Stockton said something to the man he was with and turned and headed toward Charles. Charles’s eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Stockton approach. The man had nerve after receiving a direct cut.

‘Charles Hawthorne.’

Charles gazed up at the man who had a paler version of Emma Stockton’s red hair and hazel eyes instead of Miss Stockton’s striking grey ones. He was in no mood to be polite.

‘I don’t believe we have anything to discuss.’ Charles’s tone would have chilled every bottle of wine White’s had.

Stockton turned an unbecoming shade of red. ‘I am not here to discuss anything with you.’

‘Good,’ Charles drawled. ‘Go away.’

‘Gentlemen,’ George interjected, ‘it is time my brother and I left.’ He stood. ‘Good to see you, Stockton.’

Stockton turned his attention to the man who had all but jilted his oldest sister. ‘I can’t say the same, Hawthorne.’ He turned back to Charles. ‘As for you. Leave my sister alone.’

Charles stood. His height and lean physique gave him the advantage over the other man. ‘And what if I don’t?’ He insolently took another sip of port.

‘Then we will meet on the field of honour.’

Charles nearly spewed the wine at Stockton’s absurdity. ‘You jest. From what I hear, you can’t fence and you can’t fire a pistol from ten feet and hit the target, let alone fight with your fists. What field of honour do you propose we meet on?’

Every word had been meant to insult, and the mottled red on Stockton’s face gave Charles a modicum of satisfaction. When George put his hand on Charles’s shoulder and squeezed hard, Charles didn’t need the reminder that his behaviour was irrational, not to mention rude to the point of being inexcusable. He already knew that. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

On one level, Charles sensed the attention of every man within sight. Still, he focused on the man in front of him as time seemed to stand still while he waited for Stockton’s response.

Stockton was tall and thin, with a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He looked like a youth even though Charles knew him to be at least George’s age. His clothes were of the latest style. His Hessians gleamed in the watery sunlight coming through the nearby window. A quizzing glass hung from his waistcoat pocket and his gloves were pristine. His shirt points were high enough to make it impossible for him to turn his head. A dandy.

Stockton took one of those immaculate gloves from his hand, the gesture not as smooth as Charles knew the man would have liked. The fine kid-leather stuck as though Stockton’s palm sweated.

A tiny cruel smile formed on Charles’s perfect mouth. Anticipation tightened his gut. He refused to think about the emotion or wonder why he felt it. He just waited.

A quick swipe and Stockton’s white glove slapped Charles’s jaw. The impact made a sound like that of a shot, and though it wasn’t loud, Charles was sure every man in the room heard it.

‘That is for introducing my sisters to Harriette Wilson. The entire town is talking about them.’

Fury leached the colour from Charles’s face. Stockton was right, he shouldn’t have introduced the women to the courtesan and particularly not in Rotten Row. Still, a challenge was a challenge.

‘Pistols,’ Charles stated without hesitation.

As the one challenged, it was his right to choose the weapon. He would have preferred fists for the sheer pleasure of the physical exertion, but that was more ungentlemanly than even he was prepared to go. Nor was it considered a duel, and this was a duel.

‘Send your second ’round.’ Stockton’s voice was flat, his face so pale the freckles stood out like splotches. ‘Do not see my sister from this point on.’

Charles’s smile widened, showing white, predatory teeth in a slash. ‘I shall do as I please, when I please, Stockton. Best you learn that now.’

Stockton pivoted on the heel of his boot and strode off, not sparing a glance for anyone else. Charles wondered that the man left what appeared to be a game of chance, a pastime Stockton preferred before all others.

‘The fox is in with the hens now,’ George said dryly. ‘I’ve seen you do some harebrained things before, but this takes the wager. Whatever got into you?’

Charles shrugged and swallowed down the remainder of the port in one long gulp that made his Adam’s apple move above the perfect crease of his cravat. ‘The man irritates me. Always has.’

George frowned. ‘You don’t even know the man above a passing acquaintance.’

Charles looked sideways at his brother as he carefully set the empty glass on the table. ‘I know about the man. That is enough.’

George shook his head. ‘Don’t you mean, you know his sister?’

Charles glanced around, saw all the attention still on them and motioned with his hand. ‘White’s isn’t the place to discuss this.’

George moved to the door. ‘This wasn’t the place for any of this.’

They collected their beaver hats, canes and top coats from the servant and exited onto St. James Street. Charles set his hat at an angle and swung his ebony cane with its silver tip. Now that it was done, he felt a fierce gladness. There was no going back from a duel of honour.

‘It isn’t your place.’ George’s sober voice intruded on Charles’s thoughts. ‘Stockton had the right of it. You have been paying a too marked attention toward Amy Stockton. She’s barely out of the schoolroom. It isn’t like you to pursue someone of her innocence. Nor is it proper. And that is just for starters. I won’t mention the introduction which is indeed the latest crim con.’

Heat rose in Charles’s cheeks. ‘Was it right for you to pursue Rose when you were engaged to Miss Stockton?’

‘No.’

‘Then leave off, George. Stockton is a cad who has wagered his family fortune until there is nothing left. Emma Stockton became engaged to you in hopes you’d bail her family out of debt. When you put her in the untenable position of having to call off the engagement because of your far from respectable behaviour, you put paid to that plan. Now she is considered the spinster on the shelf and Miss Amy is the fatted calf set on the Marriage Mart as the sacrifice for her father and brother’s vices.’

George’s voice cut sarcastically through Charles’s tirade. ‘And you have appointed yourself seducer and knight in shining armour all in one package? You’re overdoing it.’

Some of the jauntiness left Charles’s walk. He knew George was right. What George had done had been wrong, but that didn’t make what Charles had just done right.

George continued. ‘Not to mention what this duel will do to Miss Amy and Miss Stockton’s reputations when it gets about. As you say, Miss Stockton is on the shelf, but Miss Amy had the opportunity to make an advantageous marriage.’

‘Had being the key word?’

Disgust at George’s honesty and his own stupidity made Charles as sarcastic as his brother. He had botched things up, but there was no going back. If he retracted his acceptance of the duel, he’d be branded a coward and his standing in the ton ruined. All the social pleasures he enjoyed would be denied him. His way of life would be over. He was not ready to give that up merely to keep from meeting Bertram Stockton at dawn.

They were halfway to George’s town house when the rain started. ‘Bloody nasty ending to a bloody nasty day,’ Charles groused.

George looked at his younger brother, who had never been known for his patience and often known for his impassioned impetuosity. ‘You can still back down.’

‘No. I can’t.’ Charles stared at the rain-slicked cobbles, feeling the water drip from the brim of his beaver hat. He slapped his thigh with the ebony cane and cursed his own stupidity. ‘It would ruin me.’

‘I see.’

Charles stopped and rounded on his brother. ‘No, you don’t. You have everything. I have to make my own way in the world. I am doing that through trade. Already I am on the fringes of acceptable society. If I were branded a coward, not even my male friends would acknowledge me. Bertram Stockton isn’t worth the sacrifice.’

George’s eyes widened and he stepped back. ‘I didn’t realise you felt that way. I can arrange a larger settlement for you.’

Charles sighed and ran a hand down his face, wiping away the water that dripped from the brim of his hat. ‘No. No. I don’t envy you the inheritance. Never have. But I never want to repeat my stay in the Fleet. And my business investments will ensure that.’ He paused. ‘If I back down, I will be a laughing stock. It is bad enough already being a criminal.’

His mouth twisted. He turned away and stepped forward, trying to ignore the fact that things were getting too complicated.