A Kiss Across Time (Time Into Time) - Page 46

The men stood up, a solid wall in front of me, and I sat quiet and listened.

‘Gentlemen.’ It was the man Robins, the second second as it were.

Does that make him a third? I wondered.

‘Yes?’ Luc said. I remembered that it was the duty of the seconds to stand between the two principals in all matters before the actual duel.

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bsp; ‘I have a letter of apology from Mr Reece to Monsieur the Count.’ The man sounded as though he was going to choke on the message. I swayed to one side so I could see him through the gap between James and Luc. His face was red.

‘Give it to me, if you please.’ Luc held out his hand and there was the sound of paper crackling. ‘Count, this is an unreserved apology and withdrawal of all aspersions upon you for which Reece blames the irritation of the moment and too much to drink. Has he shared this retraction with all those within earshot of the original slur?’ Luc demanded.

‘Yes, my lord. Sir Th– That is…’

‘Sir Thomas Reece has become involved?’

‘He… Someone fetched him. He shouted at, that is, he reasoned, with Mr Reece who, er, saw the error of his actions.’

‘Sir Thomas is no doubt aware that I am accounted a very good shot,’ the Count said dryly.

And as the injured party he had choice of weapons. It seemed Sir Thomas was prepared to humiliate his nephew rather than risk his skin. I tried to imagine Elliott’s state of mind just now – knocked down by one woman and mocked by another, challenged and then forced into a shameful climb-down by his uncle in front of his colleagues. If Elliott Reece was the villain of the piece then he would be an exceedingly dangerous man after that. Even if he isn’t our murderer or blackmailer, he’s going to be like an unexploded bomb, I thought.

‘Monsieur le Comte,’ Luc said formally. ‘Are you prepared to accept this apology?’

‘I am.’

‘Then, Mr Robins, kindly convey the Count’s acceptance and his withdrawal of the challenge.’

There was a flurry of formal bowing and Mr Robins, the back of his neck positively glowing with embarrassment, walked away. The men turned back to me.

‘That will make for an interesting atmosphere in the office tomorrow,’ I remarked.

‘Indeed it will. I am enchanted to have had the opportunity to meet you again, Miss Lawrence. Might I hope for a dance this evening?’

I glanced at Luc, caught James’s concerned expression as he watched his brother and shook my head. ‘I am afraid we will not be staying for the ball, but thank you, I would have enjoyed dancing with you. Perhaps on another occasion.’

Luc waited until the Frenchman was out of earshot before demanding to know what I meant.

‘Look.’ I took the little mirror from my reticule and handed it to him. ‘You’re a ghastly colour. If you were a mushroom I wouldn’t cook with you.’

James snorted but, tellingly, Luc did not rise to the bait.

‘In fact,’ I decided, ‘We’re going home now. Are you coming, James? And how do we find Garrick?’

‘I know where he’ll have gone,’ James said. ‘Follow me.’

He led the way through the shrubbery – I refrained from pointing out the bench where I’d hit Reece in case it inflamed Luc’s temper even more – slipped a coin to a footman guarding a back gate and went out into what proved to be the mews behind the house. It was congested with carriages, their drivers and grooms talking, sleeping or smoking pipes.

We went out of the end, turned into a small street and down an alleyway and in through the door of the Running Footman public house. I immediately wanted to pick it up, shift it through time and install it in my street. ‘This is wonderful,’ I breathed.

‘Why?’ Luc asked. ‘I am not at all sure you should be in here.’

‘It’s so authentic,’ I said, then realised how idiotic that sounded. Of course it was authentic, this wasn’t a theme park, this was 1807 London. Everything was authentic. Even so, the mellow smoke-stained wooden panelling, the settles against the walls, the gleam of pewter pots – everything right down to the buxom serving maid leaning her elbows on the bar with a fine display of cleavage, looked like the dream of an old English pub. ‘It seems perfectly respectable,’ I added as Garrick got to his feet from a table in the corner where he had been playing cards with three other men.

He took one look at Luc, scooped up a handful of coins from the table and nodded to the other three.

‘We’re off then?’

Tags: Louise Allen Science Fiction
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