“We can only hope, Mama,” the earl said, crossing to the sideboard, “that the rest of the ton agrees with you. What will you have, Netherby?”
Avery sat and conversed for a while until Mrs. Westcott had finished her tea. She got to her feet then and gathered up the three books piled beside her.
“I can see how it is,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You came for a specific purpose, did you not, Avery? You came to speak privately with Alex and are wondering how you can hint me away. And I have been wondering how I can get away without appearing ill-mannered. I have three new library books and cannot wait to dive into them. No, no need to get up. You neither, Alex. I can hold three books in one hand and open the door with the other.”
Her son got to his feet nevertheless to open the door. He closed it quietly behind her and turned to look at Avery.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked.
“I need a second,” Avery said with a sigh, “and thought it might be better to keep it in the family, so to speak.”
There was a beat of silence.
“A second,” Riverdale said, moving to the fireplace and leaning one elbow upon the mantel. “As in a fight? A duel?”
“It is tiresome in the extreme,” Avery said, “but I have been called out by Uxbury for causing him public humiliation and anguish—I believe that latter was the word Jasper Walling used this morning when he presented himself at Archer House on behalf of Uxbury to invite me to name my seconds. I believe he meant a singular second even though he used the plural.”
“The devil!” Riverdale said. “Why Cousin Louise decided that it would be bad manners not to invite the man to the ball escapes my understanding. He was fortunate that either you or I did not throw him down the stairs and chuck him out the doors.”
“Quite so,” Avery agreed. “But I need a second. Will you oblige?”
Riverdale frowned at him. “What weapons will you choose?” he asked. “The choice will be yours since you are the challenged rather than the challenger. I can remember that you were tolerably handy with a fencing foil in your senior year at school. I have heard it said that Uxbury is a crack shot with a pistol. How good are you?”
“Tolerable,” Avery said, withdrawing his snuffbox from a pocket and taking a pinch while Riverdale waited impatiently for him to continue. “I would hate to put a bullet between his eyes, however, and cause a fuss. I would hate even more to shoot into the air and then have to stare down the barrel of his pistol. Swords draw blood, and blood is notoriously difficult to wash out of shirts, or so my valet informs me. Swords also make holes in shirts. No, no, my weapon of choice must be the body, unencumbered by any additional weapon that may cause holes or an excess of blood. Though nosebleeds can be messy, of course.”
“You will choose a fistfight?” Riverdale looked incredulous. “Until someone is down and unconscious? It will be a slaughter, Netherby. You had better let me take your place. I was part of that scene too last evening and am actually related to both Camille and Anastasia. I am quite handy with my fives even though I do not get to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon as often as I could wish.”
“It is a second I am in search of,” Avery told him, “not a first. If you are unwilling, I shall have to ask someone else, but that would be tiresome.”
“It will be a slaughter,” Riverdale said again.
“I hope not,” Avery said thoughtfully. “I hope I will have better control of myself than to cause him lasting bodily harm, though it will be tempting. I do not like the man.”
Riverdale laughed shortly, though he did not sound amused. “At least you will still be alive at the end of it,” he said. “I will see to that.”
“Will you?” Avery got to his feet. “I am much obliged to you, Riverdale. I would rather the whole matter be kept private. One hates to be ostentatious about such things. Besides, one would not wish to draw more attention than necessary to the two ladies.”
“Camille and Anastasia?” the earl said. “I shall try to persuade Walling to urge discretion upon Uxbury, though it may be difficult. Uxbury may well want an audience, especially when he knows you have chosen fists.”
“Bodies,” Avery said, correcting him gently. “Fists are just one small weapon of the body and not always very effective—they shorten the hands. Do your best, Riverdale. I will not take any more of your time—Cousin Althea may be bored with her books already. You will keep me informed, I daresay.”
“I will,” Riverdale promised before accompanying Avery to the door.