Free Gamble With Hearts by Hilary Gilman Page B

anticipated!’
    The speaker was a man of medium height and build, elegantly dressed in the first style of fashion. His countenance was pleasant without being handsome and he had an air of great affability. It was noticeable that his nephew did not respond to this; indeed, his hackles seemed to rise slightly as his uncle slapped him jovially on the shoulder.
    ‘It seems strange that you should leave the estate at this season,’ remarked the Viscount, rather coolly. ‘Are not the ploughing and spring sowing about to start?’
    ‘If they are, Carlington, I assure you that your clodhopping friends do not need me to tell them how to go about it.’
    Carlington shrugged, and as Fitzroy appeared at that moment accompanied by a sleepy waiter bearing coffee, he made no comment.
    There were three hours to pass before they were due at Islington and so all three young men departed to snatch a little sleep. They arranged to meet at the chosen ground at a quarter to the hour and even went so far as to compare their watches, which was just as well, as the Viscount's was several minutes slow. They parted in excellent spirits for they had no real misgivings about the outcome of the affair. The Viscount was a notable marksman.
    He had, however no notion of making it a killing matter. Although he was as convinced as ever that Farnley had cheated and, according to the code of his class, doubtless deserved to die, the Viscount was in love and, try as he might, he could not recapture the burning sense of anger that had consumed him. As he lay down to rest just as the dawn was breaking over the roof-tops of London , he resolved to spare his adversary, perhaps winging him just to teach him a lesson.
    Lord Fitzroy was already at the ground, stamping his feet and blowing upon his frozen hands, when Captain Osborne arrived. He hailed the new arrival with relief. ‘Thank G-God you g-got here, Ricky. D-Dashed if I wasn't b-beginning to think I'd d-dreamed the whole cursed b-business!’
    ‘Oh no, Fitz, it happened all right and tight. The worst thing about these affairs is getting up so devilish early! Did you think to bespeak breakfast, old fellow?’
    Lord Fitzroy yawned. ‘Certainly I d-did, and I knocked up a surgeon, what's more. He should b-be here any minute. Here, wait a second!’ He fished in the pocket of his caped greatcoat and produced a small brown bottle which he handed to his friend. ‘Have some of this, it should k-keep the c-cold out!’
    Gratefully, the Captain took a long pull at the bottle and then wiped his mouth and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Good stuff that, Fitz. I feel better now. What I want to know is what's happened to Charles. He should be here by this time. It's nearly six.’
    The sound of horses' hooves became audible in the thin morning air, and within a few minutes they were joined by Farnley accompanied by the amiable Major. The two men seemed to be upon the best of terms, and Carlington's seconds were obliged to admit that Farnley was conducting himself very well. He was obviously quite unmoved by the prospect of engaging one of the finest shots in the country and spent the next few minutes exchanging rather tasteless humorous stories with his second. By this time it was gone six and Captain Osborne was beginning to wonder what had happened to Charles. Lax though he might be, it was inconceivable that he could have deliberately missed the appointment. His man had strict instructions to waken him, otherwise the obvious conclusion would have been that he had overslept. Minutes ticked by and Farnley became restless.
    ‘How long does the young fool think I am going to wait for him, I should like to know?’ he blustered. ‘I'm not hanging around here any longer. You may tell him from me that he is a damned coward, and I shall make sure that the whole of London knows it!’
    He turned abruptly and, followed by a disappointed Major Dugdale, he strode off towards the tethered horses. Just as he reached them,