“Why not?”
While this went on, the surgeon went on calmly with his work. For once in her life, Olympia did not feel inclined to watch. At any rate, she had an idea what needed to be done. She would have cleaned the place and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. If it was as minor as the surgeon said, the bleeding would stop relatively soon. How long, she didn’t know.
But none of the men were at all concerned. She would have sensed tension, even if they didn’t show it. She sensed . . . relief?
Men.
“A hole in the head,” she muttered. “Are we quite sure it wasn’t already there?”
The surgeon threw her a faint smile. “The ball nicked His Grace’s ear very slightly and grazed the scalp. It seems a great deal worse than it is because head wounds bleed profusely.” He’d begun bandaging Ripley’s head. “The wound is not mortal, I’m glad to say. Very nice. Very clean.”
“He’ll live?” she said.
“If you let me,” Ripley said.
“You!” she said. “I’m not speaking to you.” She glared at Ashmont. “Or you.”
“I?” Ashmont said. “He was supposed to shoot at me. He didn’t even shoot in my general direction.”
“I couldn’t shoot my best friend,” Ripley said. “I told myself I could, but I couldn’t.”
“I was counting on you to shoot!” Ashmont said. “I would have missed you by a hair. But you put your curst arm up and spoiled my aim, damn you to hell.”
“How was I to know?”
“What else could I do?”
Olympia looked from one to the other in disbelief. “Do not tell me this was all for show.”
“Honor,” Ripley said.
“Honor,” Ashmont said.
“His,” Ripley said. “Mine.” He studied Ashmont’s face for a moment, then looked at her. “Yours, too, duchess.”
“Yours especially,” Ashmont said.
She stared at him. “I! As though I’d want such folly committed in my name.”
“Dammit, Olympia,” Ashmont said. “I couldn’t let you go without a fight.”
“A serious fight,” Ripley said. “Punch in the face was insufficient.”
“It would have looked better if you’d actually shot at me,” Ashmont told him.
“I daresay.”
“Looked better!” Olympia couldn’t believe her ears. She ought to. She had six brothers.
And exactly as her brothers would do, the two men regarded her with deeply puzzled expressions.
The surgeon quietly collected his bag and left.
Ripley said, “But don’t you see? If Ashmont didn’t fight over you, it would look as though he didn’t think you were worth it.”
“But you are,” Ashmont said. “Had to fight.”
“Heaven grant me strength.” Olympia threw up her hands and walked away.
Ripley and Ashmont watched her leave. She walked with more than a hint of impatience this time.
Ashmont said, “Can’t expect women to understand. You do, though.”
“Yes. Took me a moment. A bit complicated.”
“I daresay.”
“Give us a hand up, will you?”
Ashmont helped him up. “I did rather want to kill you,” he said. “Or wound you severely, at the very least. So I thought, at any rate.”
“I know. Why didn’t you?”
Why. Ripley had asked for an explanation, which one didn’t do.
Ashmont’s brow knit, and a long moment passed before he smiled again, crookedly, this time, and gave a shrug. “The letter she wrote. It was . . . kind.”
His blue gaze returned to Olympia, storming toward the footpath. “You’d better go after her. Awkward if she bolts. Again.”
He laughed and walked away to join the men who’d come with him.
Ripley went after his wife.
He found her waiting by the post chaise. Arms folded, she watched him approach. He took care not to limp. His head ached and stung, but he was not about to admit that.
“I suppose I’ll have to change the bandages,” she said. “And apply ice.”
“Certainly not,” he said. “Snow will do it. Do you want to hurt his feelings?”
She looked at his valet. “You will return to Ripley House with Jenkins. The duke and I shall travel in the post chaise.”
Snow started to follow her orders—as men seemed unable to help doing—but caught himself and looked to Ripley.
“As Her Grace says,” Ripley said. “Means to ring a peal over me, I don’t doubt. Go, go. It won’t be your first journey in a hackney, and Jenkins won’t bite you. At least not very hard. Odds of infection quite small, I’d say.”
Snow went away.
Pershore had had sense enough to make himself scarce.
If Ripley had been Pershore, and seen Olympia coming at him, he would have run, too.
Ripley helped Olympia into the carriage, then climbed in beside her.
Silence and a decided frostiness of atmosphere reigned until they neared the Green Man public house, at the crest of Putney Hill.
“We can stop, if you like,” she said. “I know it’s traditional, after a duel.”
Ah. Thaw seemed to be in progress.
“Not today,” he said. “Had a small bracer before. Brandy and soda water. That’s traditional, too.”
“I wish I’d known,” she said. “That’s what I could have taken before the wedding. The first wedding. Brandy is well enough. Tea is well enough. But together, they’re not delicious. I’m glad to know you required a bracer. That shows some degree of sensibility.”
“I wasn’t insensible,” he said. “But I wasn’t afraid of Ashmont. Knew there was a chance he’d hit me. Still, the odds are small, you know, of fatality. One in fourteen. Merely one in six chances of being wounded.”
She looked at him over her spectacles. “Merely.”
“You’re the practical and sensible one,” he said. “Let’s look at this practically and sensibly. Let us divide a duelist’s body into nine parts. If a man’s positioned himself properly, the ball won’t kill him unless he’s hit in one of three of those parts.”
“Positioned himself properly. And that would be, say, in the next village?”
“Thing is, you don’t face your man full front. That’s ridiculous. But if you stand as we did, the chances against getting hit are five to one, and three to one against one of those hits doing for you.”
“The chances are not nil, I notice.”
“My dear girl, what do you reckon the chances were of your getting killed racing to Putney in a hackney cabriolet? Those so-called drivers think they’re jockeys at Goodwood. The cabs are death traps. You know as well as I do they throw passengers into the road all the time. I’m the one ought to be furious with you for taking such chances, but I’m not, because I’m a forgiving fellow, and I know you did it out of worry for me. Which wouldn’t have happened if you’d slept as you were supposed to. Didn’t I tire you enough last night?”
Her eyes widened. “Was that why you did . . . all that? To wear me out?”