Velvet Embrace (17 page)

"Quite easy.
I could have killed you several times over."

"You could have tried. So why did you not? I confess that has me puzzled."

Charles appeared to consider his words carefully. "You have something I want."

"Ah yes, the deed," Dominic said, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets of his dressing gown. "I'll wager you were disappointed in Cassandra. I could have warned you she didn't have the intelligence to carry out your work. But why do you want the deed?"

Germain's
smile resembled a sneer. "It is not for me. It is
for . . .
a client, let us say.
Someone who is extremely interested in your future.
I am to receive a large bonus if I can obtain the property in addition to killing you." When Dominic merely raised an eyebrow,
Germain
waved his hand impatiently. "Last night you were lucky enough to find out about the deed, but now that you've been warned, it should prove difficult for me to get my hands on it. So I have a proposition for you. You get the name of my client in exchange for the property."

Dominic was genuinely amused. "Your wits have gone begging, Charles, if you expect me to turn over a valuable estate to you just for a name."

"What if I were to tell you that my client profited from your father's death?"

Dominic gave him a piercing look but made no comment. Charles shrugged. "Very well, then. We will make it an affair of
honor,
with the winner's claim either the deed or the information. I doubt you would refuse a duel."

Dominic kept his expression inscrutable as he considered the proposal. Dueling was illegal but he and Charles would come to blows sooner or later. It was inevitable. Charles had revived their past contretemps the moment he set foot on English soil, and it would only be resolved when one of them achieved a clear victory. Besides, a duel would be better than finding himself in a dark alley some evening with
Germain
waiting to plunge a knife in his back. Even so, Charles
Germain
was not the kind of man to act without a trump up his sleeve, particularly when the stakes were high. If he were proposing a duel, that meant he planned to win—by fair means or foul.

Dominic was convinced of his suspicions when he accepted the challenge, for the gleam of triumph in
Germain's
eyes was unmistakable. The smirk disappeared, however, when Dominic added casually, "I believe the choice of weapons is mine? Then let us use foils. I haven't tested my blade in some time. You have kept in practice, haven't you Charles?" He could see
Germain
hesitate and weigh the disadvantages. "Come now, don't you consider your bonus worth the risk?"

Charles flushed an angry, darker red, but he nodded and suggested a time and place.

"I believe it is common practice to have our seconds agree to the particulars," Dominic observed mildly—with the satisfying result that
Germain
lost his temper.

"Damn it, man! Where in the bloody blazes am I to get a second? I don't know anyone in London any longer, thanks to you!

Dominic regarded him coolly. "You may do as you please, Charles, but I prefer to have witnesses. I value my skin, you know."

His remark only fueled
Germain's
rancor. Balling his fists, Charles strode across the room and turned back at the door to point a commanding finger at Dominic.
"Tomorrow morning, Stanton!
Bacon's field at dawn.
Be there, or your skin won't be worth a farthing when I've finished with you."

An answering spark of fury showed in Dominic's gray eyes, but he made no move to stop his guest's departure.

An hour later, he drove his curricle to the
Effing
mansion in Grosvenor Square. He found Jason alone, for Lauren was still upstairs resting. When he was invited to partake of breakfast, Dominic declined anything except coffee.

"So what brings you here at this hour?" Jason asked when the footmen had been dismissed.

"I want you to act as my second."

Jason blandly continued to butter a muffin.
"Another duel?
Do I know the fellow?"

"No, but I've mentioned him. He's Charles
Germain
."

Looking up, Jason grinned. "However did you manage that?
Germain
must be mad to have agreed—or a complete fool."

"Actually he challenged me." Dominic proceeded to tell Jason about Cassandra's attempted theft and about the property in France. "
Germain
showed up on my doorstep this morning trying to get his hands on the deed," Dominic added. "He even admitted that he had been hired by someone to kill me. The estate was to be part of the bargain."

Jason eyed him with suspicion. "You aren't in your cups this morning, by any chance?"

"I thank you for your faith in me," Dominic said acerbically. "But even were I drunk, do you think I would make up a story like that? I'm completely serious. The deed is being held by my solicitor, but I have no idea how Charles found out about it, or why someone would want it. Actually, I was planning to visit France this summer—I wanted to take a look at the land to see what it would take to make it profitable again. But now it seems I will have to move up the trip. I suppose I should be thankful for
Germain's
greed. He was so anxious to collect his fee that he proposed a duel. The details have already been arranged.
Tomorrow at dawn, Bacon's field.
We're to use foils. I wouldn't trust him with a pistol."

"But isn't
Germain
a fair swordsman?"

"Yes, but I don't intend to lose. Regretfully, I can't kill Charles if I want to find out who hired him."

"And then you go to France?"

Dominic grinned. "Not yet. I still plan to take Julian up on his invitation.
Unfinished business.
I leave tomorrow."

Chuckling, Jason shook his head.
"Ah yes, the wench who struck you.
One of these days, Dominic—"

"Then I may count on you?"

"Of course.
I shall have to tell Lauren, though, or she will wonder where I've gone."

"Thanks,
Jase
. I had better go for I left my horses standing," he said, rising. "I'll see you in the morning."

Jason waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll bring a surgeon, although I trust it will be
Germain
who needs his services."

Dominic laughed. "Let us hope so, my friend. My future godchild will be sorely disappointed if you have to find a substitute for me."

Dominic spent the rest of the day putting his other affairs in order, and, after visiting his banker and
attorney,
he called on Manning to explain the recent development with
Germain
. He spent the evening gambling with friends, winning and losing large sums. He also drank heavily—so much, in fact, that the aid of his coachman as well as that of a disgruntled Farley was required to put him to bed.

He woke the next morning with a hangover, but except for his slightly bloodshot eyes, Dominic looked the picture of a fashionable gentleman when he left the house. He was elegantly attired in tight-fitting fawn breeches, gleaming top boots, a striped silk waistcoat, and a blue coat set off by a ruffled shirt front.

It was still dark and a thick fog blanketed the city, but the coach was waiting for him. Jacques was sitting in the box, keeping a grip on the reins, while two footmen held the bridles of the lead horses. Two large trunks had been strapped to the roof of the coach, and Dominic's black stallion Diablo had been tied loosely to the rear. The stallion stood proudly motionless, even though the four matched bays stamped and snorted, protesting the coldness of the foggy morning.

Dominic was still not in the best of moods, but he was able to return his coachman's mocking grin with one of his own. "Move over," he ordered, climbing into the box beside the Frenchman. "I need to work off some of the ache in my bones." When Jacques chuckled, Dominic slanted him a fulminating glare. "Stubble it, will you? You try my patience with your infernal giggling."

At his command, the footmen released the leaders and the four powerful bays sprang forward. Jacques leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and pulled his hat low over his forehead. He was still grinning, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

It was barely dawn when they neared the appointed meeting place and Dominic turned the carriage off the main road. The swirling mist that shrouded the countryside churned beneath the galloping hooves of the horses as they swept onto a wide field. Beyond stood a clearing encircled by enormous elms, looking like a ghostly gladiator's arena in the gloom.

Jason's carriage was already waiting, but there was no sign of
Germain
. Dominic brought the coach to a halt and handed the reins to Jacques as he leapt down from the box. Shedding his greatcoat and tossing it into the coach, he took a deep breath, feeling the cold dawn air sting his lungs. The chill silence that surrounded the place matched his grim mood.

Jason introduced the short, bespectacled man as a surgeon, but none of them were inclined toward conversation. For a time the quiet was broken only by the occasional creak of a carriage harness or the muffled jingle of a bit as a horse tossed its head.

Finally, however, they heard the faint drumming of hooves in the distance. "At last," Dominic remarked as
Germain
and another man approached on horseback. "I was beginning to wonder if I had asked you here for naught."

When
Germain
rode up, Dominic responded to his curt greeting with a thin smile. While Jason retrieved a long slim case containing a set of matched foils from the coach, Dominic stripped off his coat and cravat. Immediately the cold dampness penetrated the fine linen of his shirt, but he set his teeth against the chill, trying to ignore it.

Charles
Germain
dismounted and made the same preparations, not bothering to introduce his friend, a heavyset man whose face sported a crooked nose. Charles appeared calm as he inspected the gleaming rapiers Jason presented, but the tight lines around his mouth betrayed his tension. He selected

one
of the foils and tested its weight in his hand.

Dominic accepted the other, making a quick pass in the air, cutting it with a hiss. The quality of the blade was unmistakable—light and flexible, yet made of the strongest steel.

He moved to the center of the clearing and stood waiting with the razor tip pointed at the ground. When
Germain
had taken a place opposite, Jason quietly outlined the rules,
then
retreated a few yards to stand with the others and observe the contest.

"It seems you are a fool after all," Charles sneered, attempting to ruffle his opponent's cool composure.