whispered
publicly who the lover was but suffice to say two possible
paramours were in that room – General de Merville and Sir James
Damery. There was also the royal host of the gala ball – the Prince
of Wales.
Viscount Cazenove was the
fourth possible paramour but he was now out of the picture.
Several scenarios played out
rapidly in everyone’s head.
General de Merville and Prince
Sergei realized that if the two young men shot each other they
would no longer count as rivals for the Countess’s affections.
Mr Blague, who had been bored
for most of the evening, was suddenly excited by the prospect of
witnessing a duel. Duels used to be common is the South until the
Yankee government outlawed them. He had even participated in one
himself when he was young and foolhardy and in love. Challenging
someone to a duel was a democratic right. America was great because
of its gunslingers, frontiersmen and quick draw fighters.
American Presidents were not
averse to fighting duels either, notably Andrew Jackson; and
Abraham Lincoln would have if his second had not interfered.
Vice-President Aaron Burr, and Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander
Hamilton, had also fought a duel. It was a rite of passage for
politicians and it proved they understood the great American
dream.
Sir James Damery still had no
solution but at least a duel would turn the spotlight away from
things like Fenians. He liked both Nash and Moriarty enormously.
They were both courageous and clever and the sort of men the Empire
needed. Maybe they would both shoot in the air. What did they call
it? Dumb shooting? Deloping? It had been known to happen, though it
went against the accepted rules of conduct.
Failing that, at least it meant
the Russian would not throw down the gauntlet to the heir to the
throne, which is probably why he had brought the duelling pistols
along in the first place. Just as Freddy Cazenove could not risk
being labelled a lily-livered coward, neither could any other man,
including the Prince of Wales, risk turning down a duel if openly
challenged.
In other words, a duel between
two officers was preferable to a duel between Prince Sergei and the
Prince Regent.
Major Inigo Nash measured his
chances. He was not reckless or foolhardy, but that’s not to say he
didn’t take risks. Of course he did. A man couldn’t survive long in
a foreign hell-hole without taking risks, and he’d been in most of
them, but he preferred the odds to be on his side. Maybe this was
meant to be. While waltzing with the Countess he had imagined
taking out his revolver, aiming up at the balcony, and shooting Jim
between the eyes.
Colonel Moriarty fought to
downplay his eagerness. He struggled to keep the light out of his
Irish eyes and the cocky smile off his face. Duels were second
nature to him. He was a crack shot and his hand was rock steady.
Most men weren’t used to the weightiness of an old-fashioned
duelling pistol and the way it fit into a man’s hand. They had
grown accustomed to Webleys and Derringers and Smith & Wessons.
They didn’t take into account the length of the barrel and how to
use it to aim at the heart of a target. They never allowed for the
stiffness of the old-style trigger. Even with one hand tied behind
his back and a blindfold he couldn’t miss. He could smell fear at
fifty paces. At ten paces it was like shooting at a stationery
omnibus.
Damery waited for the howls of
protest but there were none. “So be it,” he said sternly. “It is
customary to allow for a change of heart. Shall we say tomorrow at
dawn?”
“Why wait?” challenged the
American. “I say let them settle it now. We can get it over with
before the fireworks start.”
“This is a matter of personal
honour,” added the Russian. “We are not deciding on a time for a
picnic.”
“But there’s no light,” pointed
out Damery.
“Perhaps you think they should
throw billiard balls at each other like those two idiotic
Frenchmen, or perhaps beat each
publicly who the lover was but suffice to say two possible
paramours were in that room – General de Merville and Sir James
Damery. There was also the royal host of the gala ball – the Prince
of Wales.
Viscount Cazenove was the
fourth possible paramour but he was now out of the picture.
Several scenarios played out
rapidly in everyone’s head.
General de Merville and Prince
Sergei realized that if the two young men shot each other they
would no longer count as rivals for the Countess’s affections.
Mr Blague, who had been bored
for most of the evening, was suddenly excited by the prospect of
witnessing a duel. Duels used to be common is the South until the
Yankee government outlawed them. He had even participated in one
himself when he was young and foolhardy and in love. Challenging
someone to a duel was a democratic right. America was great because
of its gunslingers, frontiersmen and quick draw fighters.
American Presidents were not
averse to fighting duels either, notably Andrew Jackson; and
Abraham Lincoln would have if his second had not interfered.
Vice-President Aaron Burr, and Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander
Hamilton, had also fought a duel. It was a rite of passage for
politicians and it proved they understood the great American
dream.
Sir James Damery still had no
solution but at least a duel would turn the spotlight away from
things like Fenians. He liked both Nash and Moriarty enormously.
They were both courageous and clever and the sort of men the Empire
needed. Maybe they would both shoot in the air. What did they call
it? Dumb shooting? Deloping? It had been known to happen, though it
went against the accepted rules of conduct.
Failing that, at least it meant
the Russian would not throw down the gauntlet to the heir to the
throne, which is probably why he had brought the duelling pistols
along in the first place. Just as Freddy Cazenove could not risk
being labelled a lily-livered coward, neither could any other man,
including the Prince of Wales, risk turning down a duel if openly
challenged.
In other words, a duel between
two officers was preferable to a duel between Prince Sergei and the
Prince Regent.
Major Inigo Nash measured his
chances. He was not reckless or foolhardy, but that’s not to say he
didn’t take risks. Of course he did. A man couldn’t survive long in
a foreign hell-hole without taking risks, and he’d been in most of
them, but he preferred the odds to be on his side. Maybe this was
meant to be. While waltzing with the Countess he had imagined
taking out his revolver, aiming up at the balcony, and shooting Jim
between the eyes.
Colonel Moriarty fought to
downplay his eagerness. He struggled to keep the light out of his
Irish eyes and the cocky smile off his face. Duels were second
nature to him. He was a crack shot and his hand was rock steady.
Most men weren’t used to the weightiness of an old-fashioned
duelling pistol and the way it fit into a man’s hand. They had
grown accustomed to Webleys and Derringers and Smith & Wessons.
They didn’t take into account the length of the barrel and how to
use it to aim at the heart of a target. They never allowed for the
stiffness of the old-style trigger. Even with one hand tied behind
his back and a blindfold he couldn’t miss. He could smell fear at
fifty paces. At ten paces it was like shooting at a stationery
omnibus.
Damery waited for the howls of
protest but there were none. “So be it,” he said sternly. “It is
customary to allow for a change of heart. Shall we say tomorrow at
dawn?”
“Why wait?” challenged the
American. “I say let them settle it now. We can get it over with
before the fireworks start.”
“This is a matter of personal
honour,” added the Russian. “We are not deciding on a time for a
picnic.”
“But there’s no light,” pointed
out Damery.
“Perhaps you think they should
throw billiard balls at each other like those two idiotic
Frenchmen, or perhaps beat each
Similar Books
