Part 43 (1/2)
He turned away from her and back toward Peac.o.c.k. ”Tell her, sir, if she stays, she may see sights that she won't easily forget.”
Peac.o.c.k bowed, genteelly agreeable. ”She knew you'd say that, Your Grace, and told me to tell you that she is prepared for that possibility.”
”Prepared, h.e.l.l.” She'd never seen what a lead ball could do to flesh and bone at close range, or realized how much blood could drain from a man's body in only a minute, and he'd rather she didn't learn now, especially not at his expense. ”She hasn't the faintest d.a.m.ned notion of what could happen here.”
”Your Grace?” William's expression was uncertain. ”Are you ready to proceed?”
”Aye, aye, I am.” He yanked off his waistcoat and tossed it to Peart, and followed William to where the others stood. The spectators backed away to a more respectful distance, and a safer one, too, leaving the snow where they'd stood trampled and muddied. But here where Edward and McCray would stand, the new snow was still untouched, waiting for the stain of blood.
And a red hooded cloak fluttering in the breeze upon the hillside....
Edward nodded at the surgeon, a thin-faced man brought up from the hospital at Greenwich by William this morning. Then, for the first time that morning, he looked McCray squarely in the eye. The man didn't flinch-Edward would grant him that-but he was sweating so profusely that the hair was plastered to his temples, and his worn s.h.i.+rt clung limply to the softness of his belly. The collar of that s.h.i.+rt had been turned to mask the edge frayed by his beard, and beneath McCray's chin was a forlorn little darned patch in the linen, a sadly human detail that Edward desperately wished he hadn't noticed.
”Pistols, gentlemen.” William presented the mahogany box with his father's guns, already loaded, and like a child faced with a choice of chocolates, McCray let his fingers hover greedily over first one pistol, then the second, before he finally pounced and grabbed one, pulling it away as if he feared Edward would try to take it.
Edward, of course, didn't. He'd tested both pistols last night, and knew they were equal. He held his lightly, warming the polished b.u.t.t in his hand. Like all the most modern dueling pistols, these were fitted with hair-triggers, extra springs in the lock that would make the pistol fire at the slightest pull, and without disturbing the aim. As William had noted before, it no longer took much talent or even nerve to blast a man's fool head off.
Solemnly William handed the empty box to Peart. ”For the final time, gentlemen, and in the name of the king you have sworn to serve, I ask if you can be reconciled?”
”He's still married to a wretched foreign trollop,” said McCray doggedly, ”and I'm not about-”
”Enough, McCray,” ordered Edward sharply. ”Lord Bonnington, I believe you have your answer.”
”Very well, Your Grace.” William cleared his throat, the sound echoing so that Edward realized all the others had ceased to talk. ”I shall ask you to take your positions, gentlemen.”
Edward turned so his back was against McCray's. He held the barrel of the pistol with the muzzle toward the gray morning sky, the barrel resting lightly against his collarbone.
”Five paces apart, gentlemen, then turn inward.”
Silently Edward counted his steps, his footfalls m.u.f.fled by the snow, then turned. McCray was already facing him, his eyes blank. Edward remembered what William had told him, how McCray would twist his arm before him to compensate for his weak eye, how he'd present a smaller square of white s.h.i.+rt. Better to aim a fraction lower, toward his belly.
Oh, Francesca, cara mia, are you still watching from the hill?
”I will count to five, gentlemen,” continued William. ”One, two, three, four, five. Upon the final word, you may fire at will. Are you ready, gentlemen?”
”One, two...”
I love you, la.s.s. Even if I die, that will never change.
”Three, four...”
This is the last time, Francesca, I swear it. I want the life, the love that you give me, not this. d.a.m.nation, I must be sure to watch McCray's arm....
The flash came first, brilliant yellow-white, the way only gunpowder can be, a half-second before William called five, and well before Edward's finger could squeeze the trigger.
And too late now to remember what else William had said. Be wary of a jumped start or misfire, for McCray will cheat any way he can....
He felt the sharp stab in his upper arm, the pain that began small and swiftly grew, streaking down his arm and up to his shoulder with the slower spread of blood, his blood, warming his own chilly skin inside his sleeve. Around him rumbled the shock and outrage from the other men, matched by his own furious oath at being gulled by the oldest trick in the coward's book.