Dominic kept his expression inscrutable as he considered the proposal. Dueling was illegal but he and Charles would come to blows sooner or later. It was inevitable. Charles had revived their past contretemps the moment he set foot on English soil, and it would only be resolved when one of them achieved a clear victory. Besides, a duel would be better than finding himself in a dark alley some evening with Germain waiting to plunge a knife in his back. Even so, Charles Germain was not the kind of man to act without a trump up his sleeve, particularly when the stakes were high. If he were proposing a duel, that meant he planned to win—by fair means or foul.
Dominic was convinced of his suspicions when he accepted the challenge, for the gleam of triumph in Germain's eyes was unmistakable. The smirk disappeared, however, when Dominic added casually, "I believe the choice of weapons is mine? Then let us use foils. I haven't tested my blade in some time. You have kept in practice, haven't you Charles?" He could see Germain hesitate and weigh the disadvantages. "Come now, don't you consider your bonus worth the risk?"
Charles flushed an angry, darker red, but he nodded and suggested a time and place.
"I believe it is common practice to have our seconds agree to the particulars," Dominic observed mildly—with the satisfying result that Germain lost his temper.
"Damn it, man! Where in the bloody blazes am I to get a second? I don't know anyone in London any longer, thanks to you!
Dominic regarded him coolly. "You may do as you please, Charles, but I prefer to have witnesses. I value my skin, you know."
His remark only fueled Germain's rancor. Balling his fists, Charles strode across the room and turned back at the door to point a commanding finger at Dominic. "Tomorrow morning, Stanton! Bacon's field at dawn. Be there, or your skin won't be worth a farthing when I've finished with you."
An answering spark of fury showed in Dominic's gray eyes, but he made no move to stop his guest's departure.
An hour later, he drove his curricle to the Effing mansion in Grosvenor Square. He found Jason alone, for Lauren was still upstairs resting. When he was invited to partake of breakfast, Dominic declined anything except coffee.
"So what brings you here at this hour?" Jason asked when the footmen had been dismissed.
"I want you to act as my second."
Jason blandly continued to butter a muffin. "Another duel? Do I know the fellow?"
"No, but I've mentioned him. He's Charles Germain."
Looking up, Jason grinned. "However did you manage that? Germain must be mad to have agreed—or a complete fool."
"Actually he challenged me." Dominic proceeded to tell Jason about Cassandra's attempted theft and about the property in France. "Germain showed up on my doorstep this morning trying to get his hands on the deed," Dominic added. "He even admitted that he had been hired by someone to kill me. The estate was to be part of the bargain."
Jason eyed him with suspicion. "You aren't in your cups this morning, by any chance?"
"I thank you for your faith in me," Dominic said acerbically. "But even were I drunk, do you think I would make up a story like that? I'm completely serious. The deed is being held by my solicitor, but I have no idea how Charles found out about it, or why someone would want it. Actually, I was planning to visit France this summer—I wanted to take a look at the land to see what it would take to make it profitable again. But now it seems I will have to move up the trip. I suppose I should be thankful for Germain's greed. He was so anxious to collect his fee that he proposed a duel. The details have already been arranged. Tomorrow at dawn, Bacon's field. We're to use foils. I wouldn't trust him with a pistol."
"But isn't Germain a fair swordsman?"
"Yes, but I don't intend to lose. Regretfully, I can't kill Charles if I want to find out who hired him."
"And then you go to France?"
Dominic grinned. "Not yet. I still plan to take Julian up on his invitation. Unfinished business. I leave tomorrow."
Chuckling, Jason shook his head. "Ah yes, the wench who struck you. One of these days, Dominic—"
"Then I may count on you?"
"Of course. I shall have to tell Lauren, though, or she will wonder where I've gone."
"Thanks, Jase. I had better go for I left my horses standing," he said, rising. "I'll see you in the morning."
Jason waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll bring a surgeon, although I trust it will be Germain who needs his services."
Dominic laughed. "Let us hope so, my friend. My future godchild will be sorely disappointed if you have to find a substitute for me."
Dominic spent the rest of the day putting his other affairs in order, and, after visiting his banker and attorney, he called on Manning to explain the recent development with Germain. He spent the evening gambling with friends, winning and losing large sums. He also drank heavily—so much, in fact, that the aid of his coachman as well as that of a disgruntled Farley was required to put him to bed.
He woke the next morning with a hangover, but except for his slightly bloodshot eyes, Dominic looked the picture of a fashionable gentleman when he left the house. He was elegantly attired in tight-fitting fawn breeches, gleaming top boots, a striped silk waistcoat, and a blue coat set off by a ruffled shirt front.
It was still dark and a thick fog blanketed the city, but the coach was waiting for him. Jacques was sitting in the box, keeping a grip on the reins, while two footmen held the bridles of the lead horses. Two large trunks had been strapped to the roof of the coach, and Dominic's black stallion Diablo had been tied loosely to the rear. The stallion stood proudly motionless, even though the four matched bays stamped and snorted, protesting the coldness of the foggy morning.