Wallflower (Old Maids' Club, Book 1) (37 page)

Tossing the fashion plates
to her lap, Jo sighed. “You’re off the point, Tabby. What
Oglethorpe has claimed—what he wants society to know—is as bad as
what Isaac knew of Loring when he called the wretch out. We know
better. Your betrothed and your brothers know better about this
situation, but the remainder of the
beau
monde
does not. A duel will serve to clear
the air.”

The door opened again as Elaine
returned. “Lily is all settled for her nap now,” she said, resuming
her seat and picking up her sampler. “Go on with your discussion.
Pretend I never had to leave and return.”

Easy enough. Tabitha intended to do
just that. She frowned at her cousin. “Duels are
illegal.”

Jo returned her attention to the
fashion plates, picking them up in her hands again and scanning
over them. “A point of which I’m sure all parties involved are
aware. That doesn’t seem to be enough deterrent. Try
again.”

“
Fine. I can understand
their desire for a duel. Meaning
one
. One duel. Not
three
. And why on earth
is Toby challenging Noah? That makes no sense
whatsoever.”

“
Since when do the men of
this family make sense?” Elaine asked.

Jo nodded in Elaine’s direction.
“Touché. See, Tabby? Lainey may be amongst the newest members of
the family, but she understands them all better than you seem to at
the moment.” Her lips pinched into a frown. “Of course, your lack
of understanding might be due more to a choice than
anything.”

Tabitha no longer possessed enough
thought capacity to decipher Jo’s veiled comments. “What is that
supposed to mean?”

“
Simply that you are
unwilling to concede that you’re worth raising a breeze over. Yes,
dueling is illegal. Yes, all of these supposed challenges are a
feckless display of their virility and bravery, perhaps more for
their own conceit than for your safety and comfort. But the fact of
the matter remains that
you
are at the center of it all.” Jo returned all of
the fashion plates to the occasional table and stood to look out
the window. After several long moments of Tabitha staring at her
fingernails and pretending not to have understood her cousin’s
claims, Jo murmured, “Aunt Rosaline was right.”

Of course Aunt Rosaline was right.
Aunt Rosaline had been right about almost everything in her life,
right up until the point where her mind stopped functioning the way
it ought. But heaven help Tabitha determine what, specifically, Jo
thought Aunt Rosaline had been right about in this moment. “Care to
elaborate?” Tabitha asked dryly when Jo didn’t finish the thought
on her own.

Without turning, Jo held her own
counsel for what felt an eternity. Tabitha could almost see the
wheels turning in the back of Jo’s head. It was as though the
choice between telling Tabitha the truth and telling her some other
story could affect far more than the conversation at hand. “Aunt
Rosaline always said you believed yourself unworthy of attention.
That you felt a grand display would be wasted on you—someone
undeserving of such notice—when it could be better spent on someone
else. Someone more commendable or admirable. Someone less
plump.”

Jo’s carefully chosen
words stung more than a blow to the face. Is that really what she
thought of herself? She’d always remained in the background, it was
true. Tabitha wanted to avoid the scorn and derision she sensed
from the
ton
,
when they would comment on her stoutness.

The observations always hurt Tabitha,
whether they came from an infamous gossip or from her own father.
Perhaps they hurt more when they came from someone she loved and
who loved her. Someone whose opinion of her held weight. They hurt
more, because if the commenter cared about her and still made the
remark, then it must be true.

Tabitha would never be loved for
anything but her money, particularly not when she was plump and
plain. Not when there were so many other candidates who were far
more appropriate.

That’s what Tabitha had believed to be
true for as long as she could remember. At least, she’d believed it
until very recently. Perhaps until the last few weeks.

Maybe it had been true of
most of the gentlemen in society. But Noah was not most gentlemen.
He rarely drank. He
never
swore. He cared what was in a lady’s head as much
as what was on her person. He listened more than he talked. He made
everyone—
everyone
—feel they were worthwhile. He was patient and kind and
infinitely good.

And he loved her. Tabitha. He loved
her despite (or perhaps even because of) the fact that she was not
as thin as a stick. He loved her despite her preference for hiding.
He loved her despite her tendency to run away from things that most
people in the world would simply confront head-on.

He loved her.

His love made her feel warm and safe,
and immeasurably treasured. She couldn’t think herself undeserving
of any grand gesture he chose to make for her, no matter how
foolish and reckless such an act may be. Doing so would be a great
disservice to his devotion.

“
Dry your eyes.” Gentle
arms came around Tabitha and she blinked back tears to see. Elaine
dabbed a handkerchief over Tabitha’s face and smiled. “He wants to
see you, silly. Go on. Don’t keep him waiting.”

When Tabitha finally cleared all the
remnants of her crying away, she was dazed to discover Hester in
her chambers, looking expectantly upon her. Tabitha had been
thoroughly ignorant of everything happening around her while she
was lost in her own thoughts. She sniffled. “Don’t keep who
waiting?”

“
Your fiancé,” Jo replied.
“He’s downstairs in the drawing room. No doubt he wishes to
reassure you that he’ll handle the affront to your reputation and
tell you there is nothing to worry about.”

Even whilst informing her he would be
participating in a duel or two. Tabitha would somehow find a way to
accept a grand gesture if he was so inclined to make one. She could
accept a token of his love and believe herself deserving of
it.

Just not this one.

~ * ~

“
I’ll not stand for it.”
Tabitha sat before Noah, her usually silvery eyes as black as a
thundercloud, hands folded neatly on her lap, with posture as
ramrod straight as the barrel of a gun.

After explaining everything that had
transpired over the course of the day (much of which she appeared
to already know, no doubt thanks to the ever-observant Miss
Faulkner), this was far from the reaction he would have expected.
Certainly it wasn’t the reaction he had hoped for.

“
You don’t have a choice.
This is not up for debate.” Raynesford’s words sliced the opaque
silence of the room. Noah was thankful for them. He hadn’t a clue
what he would have said, himself, but he doubted it would have been
as succinct as his brother-in-law’s choice of phrasing.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes and glared
at each of her brothers in turn. Yet another thing Noah was glad
for—the presence of Raynesford and Shelton during this
conversation. Their company helped to diffuse her ire amongst them.
“Why is it that every time something involving me happens of late,
I supposedly have no choice in the matter?”

“
You want to answer this
one, Devonport?” Shelton shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll be the one
dealing with all of her antics soon enough.”

With a haughty cluck of her tongue,
she turned her heated gaze on Noah.

“
The challenge has already
been issued and accepted, Tabitha. We’ll duel tomorrow, whether you
are happy about the situation or not.”

“
Back out of it. Call it
off.”

Raynesford shook his head in
disbelief. “He can’t do that, Tabitha.”

“
Why not?”

“
Why not?” Shelton nearly
shouted. His current state of inebriation seemed to make him think
they were all hard of hearing.

Noah idly wondered if he’d behaved in
a similar manner that day he’d gone overboard in his drinking with
Leith.

“
Christ, Tabitha, if he
backs out that will only serve to cause even more problems than we
already have. At least half the
ton
already knows about the duel, so backing out will
damage his reputation. Then I’ll have to go through with the duels
I threatened earlier. Oglethorpe, in order to protect
your
reputation, and
Devonport in order to show the
ton
what we as a family think of his spineless
behavior for backing out of the duel in the first
place.”

She scoffed. “That’s
ridiculous.”

“
It’s not ridiculous,”
Lord Newcastle said from the doorway. “It’s prudent. Devonport has
to prove to the
ton
what we already know and believe about him. Like it or not,
sweetheart, that is how it has to be.”

Tears pooled in her already red-rimmed
eyes. “So you will not assist me, either, Father?” Tabitha hastily
brushed one tear away as it escaped and fled down her cheek.
“You’ll encourage this barbarism even though it is against the law?
Even though it is the exact opposite of what I want?”

Newcastle crossed into the room and
sat beside his daughter on the sofa. “You know we only want what is
best for you. Even when it is sometimes not what you want.” He
pulled his daughter into his arms and stroked her hair
soothingly.

It was true. Noah could see it
clearly. No matter how caustically her twin might treat her at
times, no matter how baldly Raynesford might state things, no
matter how aloof Newcastle might be with his affections, they all
loved Tabitha more than they knew how to handle. She realized this,
too. Somewhere, deep down, she had to know that her father and
brothers would do anything they could to keep her safe and
happy.

Noah would be joining good company in
the morning.

After a minute, she pulled away from
her father. “But what if Noah is hurt? He could be killed, you
know.” Tabitha’s eyes widened with dawning fear. “Goodness, are you
even a good shot?”

~ * ~

Talking Noah out of his blasted duel
had not gone according to plan. Tabitha’s appeals to her father and
brothers had fallen on deaf ears.

Chivalry be damned, if it involved
risking life and limb. She could survive famously without so much
as a trifling reputation, and with a husband who had no reputation,
as long as it meant that she still had a husband.

If it meant she still had
Noah.

She would be furious with him—with
them all—if he was in pieces when he was supposed to be meeting her
before the altar.

Noah’s assurances that he’d once held
a dueling pistol and was quite sure he could determine how to
operate the thing had achieved the opposite effect from what he’d
intended. The blithering fool was going to get himself seriously
injured, if not killed, if left to his own devices.

Lucky for him, Tabitha had no
intention of leaving him to his own devices.

There was just one problem. She didn’t
have the first inkling of an idea as to how she would to stop him.
Particularly not since he had flatly refused to tell her where the
duel was to take place. Father and her brothers were of the same
accord.

But Tabitha would not be deterred.
She’d spent twenty-nine years in training with Jo and Bethanne,
crafting ways to thwart the plans of the men in their lives. And
she had damned well not wasted all of that time and
effort.

Chapter
Twenty-One

The first pink and orange streaks of
dawn streaked across the sky, filtering through a slowly lifting
fog as Noah stood waiting for Oglethorpe to arrive. Leith and
Claremont had come with Noah, meeting him at deLancie House with a
carriage in the pre-dawn hours. When they arrived at Hyde Park,
Shelton and Raynesford were already there—alongside Newcastle. As a
group, they’d gone back to the darker recesses of the park, away
from the popular paths and trails.

Not that anyone else would
be around to observe their proceedings at such an hour. The ladies
and gentlemen of the
ton
rarely did so much as rise from their beds before
the crack of noon. Being dressed and in public before the sun had
come up was a downright preposterous idea.

Or so he’d thought. When Noah and his
entourage arrived at the agreed-upon location, no fewer than three
dozen other gentlemen stood around. He recognized some of them from
White’s. A few nodded in his direction. Most looked anywhere but at
him.

Lovely. Just what he needed. An
audience.

The six men stood in a line, shoulder
to shoulder, watching the opening in the trees for any sign of
Oglethorpe and Eggerley while the growing gathering stood in groups
behind them. With every passing moment, Noah’s nerves increased
until he felt like a rampaging hoard of elephants were traversing
Britain, using his stomach as a stomping ground.