Kate wanted to argue that she’d given herself willingly, and that the idea of a woman’s virtue as a possession one man could steal from another was straight from the Dark Ages. But judging by the scene before her, accusations of medieval behavior would fall on deaf ears.
The men circled one another in the center of the hall, like two wild beasts bristling and snarling in warning. The bloodred carpet they trod upon did little to calm Kate’s fears or ease the men’s thirst for violence.
“You really want to do this, Thorne?” Evan asked.
“No. Because when I kill you, it will be sad for Katie and a mess for Sir Lewis’s house staff.”
“I spent four years fencing at Oxford.”
“Child’s play,” Samuel scoffed. “I spent a decade fighting my way through enemy lines, using nothing but a bayonet.”
I’m sure you did, Kate thought. But that was with a strong, healthy arm, not a grip weakened by snake venom.
“I won’t surrender her,” Samuel said. “You can’t convince me you’re the better man.”
“Very well. Then I’ll let my blade do the talking.”
Kate cringed as Evan swung his sword, but Thorne parried the blow capably. They clashed several times in quick succession. The ringing clangs of metal against metal shivered through her bones.
Just as suddenly, they broke apart and retreated, each breathing hard. The ritual of mutual, animalistic circling began again.
“Don’t do this, Samuel,” she pleaded. “He’s only desperate to save the family. It’s his passion. He wants so much to take care of his siblings and for Lark to have—”
Samuel laughed bitterly. “There’s nothing noble in this. Can’t you see he’s had this planned? He’s been maneuvering you into marrying him all along. That’s why he hasn’t let you out of his sight since they arrived in Spindle Cove. He cares, all right. He cares about the money.”
“And you don’t?” Evan stopped circling and leveled his sword at Samuel. “Those American ambitions disappeared rather quickly once you learned of her inheritance. You want her money so badly, you’re willing to drag her name through the gutter to get it.”
“The gutter you left her in.” Holding his blade pointed at Evan’s chest, Thorne looked around the room, from one Gramercy to the next. “I will never believe that no one knew of her. That you could not have found her and saved her years of degradation and misery. You’re either liars or fools.”
“Samuel, look sharp!”
Evan took advantage of his opponent’s distraction and made a slicing blow that caught Samuel’s sword and sent it spiraling away, into the darkest corner of the room. But before Evan could even demand his surrender, Samuel shifted his weight back and made a full-force kick at Evan’s wrist. Evan cried out in pain and dropped his sword. Rather than reach for it, Samuel kicked the weapon out of reach.
Both men were disarmed.
“Oh, thank heaven,” Kate whispered. “Maybe now it will be over.”
Harry shook her head. “You don’t know my brother very well.”
Evan turned to the next suit of armor in the row. This one held not a sword, but a shield and a long, slender javelin. He wrenched both shield and weapon from the pedestal. “Always fancied a go at this.”
Across the hall, Thorne turned to the armored figure’s counterpart and began to do the same.
Once they were identically armed, the men backed toward opposite ends of the hall, as if preparing for a joust.
“There’s no doubt you’re a lady now,” Harriet said to Kate. “They’ve organized a full tournament for your affections.”
“This is ridiculous!” Kate cried. “The midsummer fair was over weeks ago. What’s next, squaring off with crossbows?”
“Don’t give them any more ideas,” Lark whispered.
“On three, Thorne,” Evan called, raising his shield with his left hand and balancing the javelin with his right. He planted his boots firmly in the plush red carpet. “Three . . . two . . .”
“No!” Kate plucked her discarded stockings from the floor and dashed into the center of the hall, waving them like white, streaming banners of surrender. “Stop!”
The men stopped.
Everything stopped. Suddenly, the hall was completely, unearthly quiet. Because from the ballroom, they heard music. Not orchestral music. Just the gentle strains of the pianoforte and a familiar voice, lifted in song.
“Oh,” Kate gasped, recognizing the tune. “It’s Miss Elliott. At last, the brave dear. She’s finally performing for her friends.”
“Mozart,” Evan said, recognizing the aria. “Excellent choice, Kate. It suits her voice very well. Do you attend the opera frequently, Thorne?”
“No,” Samuel replied tightly.
Without taking his eyes from his opponent, Evan spoke to Kate. “Do you see? I will be good for you. I can give you not only the protection you need, but the companionship you deserve. We converse on politics and poetry, play brilliant duets.” He waved his javelin at Thorne. “He might make your blood pound with illicit thrills, but he can’t give you those things.”