Chapter Ten

Selena arrived at Putney Heath right on time and watched as a hundred different emotions along with various shades of color flashed across her brother's face when she exited the carriage. When last had she found such satisfaction from glimpsing those particular expressions on full display one after the other? Rage, astonishment, disbelief, more rage, concern, disapproval, more rage, and frustration. She smiled at him, but no brightness reached her eyes. This was a determined smile. A just you wait, brother smile.

Ah, satisfaction, indeed.

She nodded at Avondale, who stood beside her brother, confusion written all over his face.

"What the devil are you doing here?" He growled, his fists clenched by his sides. "Get back into the carriage and return home!"

"I'm afraid not, brother. This duel is because of me, is it not?"

"How did you even know the duel would be held here? Wait, how did you even know about the duel?" His face contorted. "Warrick tattled on me, didn't he?"

"I wouldn't call it a tattle," Selena said as she allowed the cool morning air to soothe her mood, and she made her way further into the field. "You weren't hiding it all that well either, bellowing this, roaring that. You do realize the walls of our house aren't that thick?"

"So you decided to take action? That kiss must have been damn good for you to rise this early and cheer the man on."

Selena laughed. How funny! "Oh, I'm not cheering Warrick on."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"Why, I'm here to take his place. I am, after all, Warrick's second."

If he hadn't exploded before, Selena thought he might after those words left her mouth.

Several curses flew from her mouth. "This is no joking matter, Selena!"

"Oh, I am not treating it as a joke, brother." She motioned for a footman to retrieve her pistols. "I came quite prepared."

"Don't you dare give her those pistols!"

The footman hesitated, but still cautiously brought the case over. Selena smirked. "He's on loan from a friend." Lady Leonora to be exact. "He does not take orders from you."

She could practically see his proverbial feathers bristle. "Women aren't allowed to duel."

"As far as I am aware, men are not allowed to duel either. Does this make us sibling outlaws?"

"My arse, we are sibling outlaws! Get yours back into the carriage and return home. Right. Now."

"As a second, I can't do that."

"Calm down, old chap." Avondale stepped forward, clapping Saville on the shoulder. "Lady Selena, Warrick and Deerhurst are supposed to join us. Do you perhaps know where they are?"

She sent the man a grin. Smart. "Otherwise occupied. That is why I am stepping in."

"Deerhurst is Warrick's second, not you," Saville bit out.

"You are mistaken, brother." Selena smiled. "If the earl is anything then he must the third."

Avondale shook his head. "You still cannot take Warrick's place."

"Oh? And why not?"

"It's not dueling etiquette."

Selena inhaled a deep breath and retrieved her pistols from the box the footman held. She took a place ten yards from her brother and pointed the pistol straight at him. "I don't care about dueling etiquette. I should have challenged you to a duel instead of cutting up your clothes weeks ago when I first learned what you did."

"This is madness," Saville growled. "Put that pistol away."

"It occurred to me yesterday. When we were children you were always the hero who could vanquish any of my muddles. This one, however, you are the cause of. But instead of helping me, you pawned me off on your friend. Now you wish to act all tough and mighty? Just because something did not go the way you imagined?" There was an edge in her voice she seldom employed. "I think not. Pick up your pistol and duel."

Avondale cursed.

"What do you mean pawn you off?" Saville demanded. "I've done my best to shield you from the consequences my actions brought."

"You? You mean Warrick." She gave a slight shake of her head and met her brother's gaze. "It doesn't matter anymore. Let's get his duel over with."

"Fine, you wish to duel, sister," he retrieved his pistol. "Let us duel."

"Saville," Avondale said in a low voice, "call this off."

"Why? If Selena is so adamant, who am I to decline her request?"

"You are angry. You shouldn't make rash decisions in this state." Avondale turned to her. "You are more rational than your brother, Lady Selena. Please stop this."

"I think you are mistaken, Avondale. I am beyond furious with him." Believing he could command her to marry because of a secret kiss. Beating people up. Demanding satisfaction by duel. "He issued this challenge, not me."

"It's not my fault you kissed my best friend. Any normal man would react the same."

"A kiss is a kiss. I'm sure you've done worse. Besides, you're the one acting as though my reputation is in tatters. This could have been a secret between us, but look what you've done, look who you have dragged into all of this. If my reputation does fall into disrepair, it's all your fault. So yes, I quite want revenge." Her pistol never wavered. "Shall we?"

"Let us get this done with," Saville growled. "There is no use in arguing with a woman in a childish temper."

Selena grit her teeth. If she hadn't been angry before, that sentence was enough to tempt her to pull the trigger before the count.

Avondale let out a helpless sigh, but took position to Saville's left, a frown carved onto his face.

"On the count of three?" Selena suggested.

"By all means."

"One."

Selena didn't waiver. Neither did Saville.

"Two."

He held steady. So did she.

Avondale cursed. "This is madne—."

"Three."

Two shots rang out.

Selena jolted, half expecting her body to explode into pain. Her brother might not be the best shot, but that didn't mean he couldn't hit a target. Not that she believed he would shoot her. His whole attitude was that of a male deigning to indulge a female.

That angered her most.

A loud curse rang out through the clearing in the wake of the two rapid fires. Saville dropped to his knees, clutching his arm, blood trickled through his fingers.

"Oh," Selena murmured, heart galloping at a neck break pace. "I didn't miss." Of course, she hadn't meant to really shoot him, either. She merely wanted to vent some of her anger.

"That's all you have to say for yourself?" Saville wailed. "You didn't miss? You bloody shot me!"

"Why are you so surprised?" Selena asked, still rather surprised and in a bit of shock herself. "Isn't this the point of a duel? Plus, I've always been a better shot than you."

"I didn't fire the pistol at you. I purposely missed! Did you think I would shoot you? A woman? My sister?"

"I'm a crack shot, brother. It's a scratch, I assure you." The blood caught her a bit off guard, but she didn't exaggerate her ability.

"You . . . you . . ."

She lowered her pistol as Avondale hunkered down next to Saville. "Let me see." He inspected the wound.

Selena's stepped closer a few feet then stopped again. "Why are acting as though I've dealt a deadly hit?"

Avondale tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and wound it around her brother's arm. "It's not deep."

In the distance, a carriage approached, and Selena spared a swift glance over her shoulder before looking back at her brother. Her heart did a little somersault.

That would be Warrick.

Would he be angry at her for stealing his duel? Probably. But she refused to regret her decision. He had come to her at the alehouse, the least she could do was save him from her brother. Warrick might have kissed her, but she hadn't pushed him away. Her honor needn't be defended. Even if it did, she could defend her own.

Her brother, however, glared at the carriage with the ferocity of a rising sun.

Selena turned, her thumb stroking over the metal she still gripped in her hand. The moment the horses came to a halt, the door swung open and Warrick jumped from the carriage. His eyes immediately met hers before dropping to the pistol in her hand. "What happened?"

"Good," Saville growled. He rose from his crouching position, still clutching his bandaged arm. "You are here. Now the duel can proceed."

Selena leveled a glare at her brother. "Shall I shoot you in the other arm?"

"You shot your brother?" Warrick strode over to her and took the pistol from her hand, a finger brushing over the fringes of her palm before she could evade him.

Shivers.

"As your second," Selena breathed, half-succeeding and half-failing to sound stern. "I stepped up in your stead. The duel is over."

"Who made you my second?" he asked in a shushed voice. "What possessed you to do such a thing?"

She pointed at her brother. "That devil possessed me."

"The duel is not over," Saville bellowed. "Are you not even going to look at me? I demand satisfaction!"

"Enough," Avondale said. "You've already been shot by your own flesh and blood. Do you want to die today?" He turned to Selena. "I'll bring him home. You head out first."

"What? I should be troubled by this little wound?"

Selena watched as her brother withdrew his hand from his wound, bringing the bloody palm to his face. "This... This..."

His body dropped to the ground.

"Honestly!"

All eyes turned to her. Selena shrugged, almost helplessly. "In the past, once or twice, he has fainted at the sight of blood."

Avondale, hunched down, almost having dropped along with her brother, motioned Deerhurst over. "Collect Saville's pistols. I'll send a man for the doctor."

Selena nodded. "Don't worry, he'll be fine. He survived almost removing his finger with a knife dining one evening."

"That's good to know," Deerhurst muttered, placing a hand at her brother's neck to feel for a pulse.

Would it be appropriate to roll her eyes at the moment?

"Come," Warrick said. "I'll escort you home."

She was about to decline, but when she met Warrick's gaze, those unnamable emotions again flashing in their depths, Selena thought better of it.

She nodded.

Back straight, she marched to the carriage Warrick had leaped from. Her brother might display his feelings all over his face, but Warrick carried them a bit deeper. Having seen all the men's looks and "not" looks when they all were on the scene together, it was what true friendship—no, commitment—looked like.

She wanted that.

But between them? Between Warrick and Saville?

Had she only made things worse?

*

Warrick stared atthe rows and rows of books that lined the shelves of the Savage library before reading a passage from the one he selected, The Starry Night—a book he'd already read three times. What a hell of a morning it had turned out to be. He cast a gloomy look toward the window. It had started raining after they returned from the proverbial battlefield between brother and sister.

He didn't want to think about how he could have prevented this particular mess had he been more on guard, but also could help but wonder if this was what was meant to happen. With Selena taking charge in such a bold way, Saville ought to settle down. Ought to ...though he could never tell with this friend of his.

"Oh, there you are."

Warrick lifted his head to meet Selena's gaze as she strode over to the sofa and plopped down next to him. "Saville's wound has been taken care of?"

She nodded. "The doctor gave him a bit of laudanum when he woke up, and he fell asleep again. I'm sure he'll be up and shouting in no time, however."

"Nothing can keep your brother down for long," Warrick agreed.

"Truer words have never been spoken.

"Should I leave?" Saville wouldn't want him here when he woke up, and he didn't want to cause any more discord between the siblings.

"Do you want to leave?"

No.

"In any event," Selena continued when he didn't respond, "I'm not in the mood to be yelled at alone. So stay. Let's provide each other with some much-needed distraction. The mood has grown quite morbid in this house."

Warrick tugged his cravat to loosen it a bit. "Well, you did shoot your brother. Something I still can't quite bring myself to believe yet."

"I'm sure it shall settle in soon," she said. "Truthfully, I'm still in awe of it myself."

"You seem rather delighted."

"Not entirely, although I did feel the anger that's been simmering for weeks begin to melt away the moment he cried out in pain."

Warrick quirked his lips. She made one hell of a sister. She would make one hell of a wife.

He stilled.

The sudden thought startled him. Also made him ponder...

Shewould make one hell of a wife.

But he'd already had a humiliating fight with Saville exactly because he had said no to the prospect of marrying her. Yet the allure of that single thought made his heart contract now. Beside him sat half the problem, but all the answers to releasing him from his curse.

He shook his head at that last.

He would never marry Selena just to break a curse. And no one had yet bothered to ask what she wanted.

He studied her through lazy eyes. Now that her brother and several of their friends had learned of the kisses, she might be feeling a different way than she had at the tavern when he told her about everything that led up to today. It wouldn't hurt to make a wild suggestion.

"You could marry me."

Her head whipped to his. "I can what?"

He laughed. "I see I can still shock you."

"Shock in an understatement, so I repeat, what?'

"Marry . . ." He pointed to his chest. "Me."

"If that's a proposal, it's the worst proposal I've ever heard of."

He shrugged. "It's a suggestion."

"A poor one."

"Poor?" He cocked his head to the side. "I've never been called a poor choice before."

"Well, that's because I know what you would get out of wedding me, but what would I get out of wedding you?"

He arched a brow. "Wouldn't we just be getting each other?" A novel idea, really. It also didn't sound half bad. Getting each other—on second thought, that sounded rather... well, wilder than the suggestion to marry, quite honestly.

She crossed her arms. "You'd also get my dowry."

"Keep it. I have my own blunt."

"You'd be breaking your family curse; I'd be receiving one."

Warrick laughed. "Savage, Selena Savage."

She grinned at him. "But am I wrong?"

"In calling me a curse? Absolutely."

"Have you ever considered that you are the one giving your curse its power?" she pointed out. "Take back your power."

Interesting. "I have not considered that, no. How would I be giving it power?" All he wanted to do was erase it from his family's books so as not to bother future generations.

"You are consumed by it. All your attention is focused on it."

"I merely mention here and there," Warrick said thoughtfully. Perhaps a tiny bit of preoccupation. "Should I simply forget about it then?"

"Redirect your attention to something else."

"I could do that," he murmured. A new preoccupation might have already formed. A wild one.

He cleared his throat.

But in that direction lay even more frustration, no doubt. Much more intrigue, though, much more than a family curse. And perhaps she was right. Perhaps he gave the curse power by refusing to dismiss the damn thing from his mind, by allowing it to take over his thoughts. However, when the evidence of it was so clear, letting it go became harder and harder.

She plopped back against the pillows with a sigh.

"I see the princess of trouble has many troubles today." Warrick relaxed into the sofa a bit more himself. Trouble seemed to be the word of the day.

She snorted. "Why would you think anything is troubling me? I am exceptionally trouble free as I am slouched here."

"Not true. You have a small line that draws together between your brows whenever something is nagging at your mind. Not enough to be a frown, but slight enough to take note."

She eyed him askance. "How observant of you."

"Being so has become a habit of necessity."

She scrunched her face into more lines. "Spotting my frown lines has become a necessity?"

"Of course." Everything about her had become a necessity to learn. "How else am I to decipher what unruliness you will get into next?"

"Your commitment to your task is admirable, but I'm still quite worry free."

"If you aren't worried, then what are you?" Warrick asked, curious.

"Woolgathering."

"A haunting prospect."

"Yes, I have the same thought when I contemplate anything regarding my brother."

So did he. However, "There are better ways to pass the time."

She sent him one of those smiles that on any other day would have warned him of imminent catastrophe. For him. "Do tell."

He tossed the book onto her lap. "Here, read something. It will be edifying I daresay."

She poked at the book. "Read? Please, I've never read a book in my life. I'm not starting now."

Ah yes, the Saville incident in this very library. "Suit yourself."

"Talking would be edifying too," she said after a moment.

Oh? "What would you like to talk about?" Warrick asked, his gaze dropping to where she picked at her dress.

Her eyes met his. "You refused to cave to my brother's demand to marry me."

"I did."

"Perhaps you do have a bit of brain to go with your brawn after all."

"Did you just insult my intelligence?" He had a lot more than a bit of brain to go with his brawn!

"Forget it." Her tone took on a teasing note. "If you have to ask me that, then I must be mistaken."

His eyes narrowed on the little minx. "Says the woman who doesn't read."

"What does reading have to do with intelligence?"

"Forget it. If you have to ask me that, then you've answered your own question."

She huffed out a breath before suddenly picking up the book. "But I am curious about the types of books you read. What's this? A thrilling tale of mayhem?" She opened the book at a random spot.

"On second thought..." He tried to snatch the book away, but she was one step quicker and leaped from the sofa, book in hand.

"Now I'm even more curious." Her gaze flew over a paragraph, eyes widening. "Oh, how dearly I love you, John ..." She looked at him. "You read romance?"

Warrick groaned. "I don't read romance."

"I'm pretty sure this book," she glanced at the spine, "The Starry Night is a romance book."

"It's not. It's about a woman who finds herself in debt and yet manages to save her family from debtor's prison."

"Are you sure it's not a man who saves her and her family? The very same John who almost had her and her family imprisoned but then falls madly in love with her. He redeems himself and they live happily ever after."

Warrick's lips quirked. "I thought you said you didn't read."

"I thought you said this wasn't a romance," she countered.

"I suppose there are elements, elements," he repeated at her look, "of romance in the story. But that's not what the story is about."

She cocked her head. "Then what is the story about?"

"Redemption."

"Well," she tossed the book back at him. "Redemption or not, I passed when Leonora gushed over the book. I'll pass now as well."

Warrick considered her, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "So this is why you took the advice of Lady Theodosia and dragged me to a charlatan's house? Because you would not read a book?"

"Research requires combing through a great many books. I'd rather slit my wrists."

"What about the betting book?"

"I could not even get through one page without falling asleep."

Warrick watched her closely. "Then you have the book in your possession?"

Her gaze flew to his. "Why do you ask? I thought you didn't care whether I had it or not?"

He shrugged. "Pure curiosity, nothing else."

"Well, stow your curiosity. You shall get no information from me."

"As you wish." The book was the last thing on his mind anyway, and the further it stayed away from White's, the better. He'd grown quite averse to betting books in general.

"What is the big deal about a kiss anyway?" she suddenly asked, settling back into her spot. "I'm sure my brother has stolen tons of kisses from innocent ladies."

Simple. "Because it's you. And because it's me."

"Yes, but what if I had been the one to steal the kiss?" She raised a brow. "Would that have made a difference?"

"No." Warrick met her gaze. "It would still be you. It would still be me."

"Yet everything else would be different."

Warrick furrowed his brows. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She leaned in close. "The intention would be different. Perhaps even the outcome."

"What the devil are you saying?" How would it be different?

Please, demonstrate.