Free A Matter of Duty by Sandra Heath

become a mere memory once Louisa had entered his life, for Louisa Cherington was everything that cold, arrogant Thea was not.
    Outside, New Bond Street had yet to stir. The street lamps cast pools of light over the deserted pavements, and the bow windows of the shops opposite were brightly illuminated. A carriage was approaching. Tom went to the window and looked down as Kit’s town coach drew up at the curb.
    A cold, sinking fear passed through him, and he turned sharply from the glass, his tongue passing nervously over his lips. ‘Kit? It’s time.’
    Kit stirred, and then sat up quickly. ‘Deuce take it, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’
    ‘It’s as well you did, one of us needs to have his wits about him this morning.’ Tom’s light tone belied the awful apprehension he felt within. He picked the letter up and gave it to Kit. ‘This is for Louisa. Will you be sure to give it to her if things go against me?’
    ‘You know that I will.’
    ‘And, Kit…?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Remember what I suggested about her.’ Tom pressed the miniature into his hand as well.
    Kit nodded. ‘I’m a man of my word. I’ll give it my consideration.’
    ‘I know.’
    Kit put both items into his pocket. ‘Tom, you know there’s still time to get out of this mess, don’t you? You can retract your accusations, and Rowe’s so-called honor will be satisfied.’
    ‘No.’ The single word was uttered quietly, but firmly.
    ‘Please, Tom.’
    ‘No.’
    Kit drew a heavy breath and said nothing more.
    Dudley had heard the carriage as well, and came into the room carrying the case of pistols. He wore a long gray coat and a low-crowned hat, and he looked pale and unhappy, avoiding Tom’s eyes.
    A minute or so later the three left, descending the steps to the alley and emerging by the waiting carriage. As the other two climbed in, Kit instructed the coachman to drive to the Horse and Groom Inn, Kensington, from where they’d go on foot to the meadow.
    The team’s hooves clattered on the cobbles, echoing sharply around the silent street as the carriage drew away, moving south toward Piccadilly, and then west in the direction of Kensington. They passed through the turnpike at Hyde Park Corner and then drove along the southern boundary of the park to the Knightsbridge turnpike. With this behind them, they passed on toward the little village of Kensington.
    Tom gazed out the carriage window. This was the same road he’d taken in the past to Brentford to meet Louisa; now he knew in his heart that he’d never see her again.
    Kensington was quiet as they drew up in the yard of the Horse and Groom in the village’s straggling main street. Lord Rowe’s blue barouche was already there, but there was no sign of either him or his second; they’d already proceeded to the meadow on Lord Holland’s land. At one time it had been the custom for duelists to drive boldly up to their chosen site, but recently there’d been an outcry about duels, with citizens alerting the Bow Street Runners or the constables, and so now it was the practice to prudently leave carriages at nearby inns, where they wouldn’t attract much unwelcome attention.
    The first faint light of dawn was staining the eastern sky as the three alighted and walked north up a small lane between dark, silent houses. There were fields and enclosures ahead, and in the misty gloom the tall Jacobean chimneys of Holland House could be seen among the trees. Stepping through an open gate into a field, they quickly crossed the wet grass to a gap in a high hedge, and then they were in the secluded meadow chosen by Rowe. It was a silent place, with ghostly trees looming beneath a slowly lightening sky, and in the distance there was a large pond that glinted like steel. The air was cool, and there was the promise of more rain before long.
    Rowe was waiting with his second, Jasper Dillington, a lisping fop who always dressed extravagantly, this morning in lilac satin. With them was a local