"Pembroke."
His voice carried across the ballroom with the sort of deadly quiet that made even the musicians pause in their performance, each syllable pronounced with the precision of a man accustomed to having his words obeyed without question. The crowd parted before him as he moved toward his cousin, his dark eyes fixed upon his target with an intensity that left no doubt about his intentions.
"Cousin," Pembroke replied with false bravado that could not entirely conceal his recognition that he had pushed matters beyond the point of mere family dispute into territory that might prove genuinely dangerous to his continued welfare. "How delightful to see you looking so alert this evening. I trust you heard my observations regarding your domestic arrangements?"
"I heard you question my wife's virtue and my competence to protect it," Lucian replied with controlled fury that made the very air seem to vibrate with tension. "Such observations require clarification."
Evangeline felt her heart stop as she recognized the formal language that every person present understood marked the prelude to a challenge. Despite their recent estrangement, despite his cruel dismissal of their marriage, Lucian was preparing to defend her honor with his life.
"Clarification?" Pembroke laughed with nervous bravado that fooled no one regarding his growing awareness of the dangerous ground he now occupied. "My meaning was perfectly clear to anyone possessed of sufficient wit to comprehend plain English. Though perhaps your altered circumstances make such comprehension more challenging than it once was?"
The second insult to Lucian's mental capacity, delivered before the cream of London society, crossed every possible line that governed discourse between gentlemen. Evangeline watched in fascinated horror as her husband's scarred features grew utterly still, though his eyes burned with an intensity that spoke of barely contained violence.
"Lord Worthington," Lucian said without taking his gaze from his cousin's face, his voice carrying the sort of formal precision that belonged in military dispatches rather than ballroom conversations. "Might I prevail upon you to serve as my second in settling this matter of honour with Viscount Pembroke?"
"It would be my privilege, Your Grace," Worthington replied immediately, his own military background making him fully aware of what such a request entailed. "Though perhaps Lord Pembroke might wish to reconsider his unfortunate choice of words before matters progress beyond the possibility of diplomatic resolution?"
The offer of escape was delivered with diplomatic courtesy that allowed Pembroke to withdraw his accusations without complete loss of face, though every person present understood that such withdrawal would require public acknowledgment of error and formal apology to both Lucian and Evangeline.
"Reconsider?" Pembroke's face had grown even redder, though whether from wine or recognition of his increasingly precarious position remained unclear. "I stand by every word I have spoken. The Duke of Ravenshollow lacks themental capacity to distinguish between genuine affection and mercenary calculation, while his duchess possesses exactly the sort of flexible morality that such circumstances reward."
The renewed attack upon Evangeline's character pushed the confrontation beyond any possibility of peaceful resolution. Yet what struck her most forcefully was not Pembroke's cruelty but the transformation she witnessed in Lucian's bearing—the way he seemed to grow taller and more imposing with each insult, as though his cousin's words were stripping away weeks of self-doubt and hesitation to reveal the formidable man beneath.
"Very well," Lucian said with deadly calm that marked the end of negotiation and the beginning of consequences. "Lord Worthington, please arrange the necessary details with Lord Pembroke's second. I believe satisfaction must be demanded for such comprehensive insults to my family's honour."
His use of the phrase "my family" sent a jolt through Evangeline's chest, suggesting that whatever coldness had marked their recent interactions, he still considered her worthy of his protection and his name. The knowledge that he would risk his life to defend her reputation, regardless of his personal feelings about their marriage, filled her with emotions too complex to analyze clearly.
"Of course, Your Grace," Worthington agreed grimly, already scanning the assembled gentlemen for someone willing to serve Pembroke in what appeared to be an increasingly one-sided affair. "Lord Ashford, might I prevail upon your services in this matter?"
Charles Ashford stepped forward with obvious reluctance, his handsome features bearing an expression that suggested he found the entire situation distasteful but unavoidable given the conventions that governed such matters.
"I shall serve Lord Pembroke," he said with formal courtesy, though his tone carried none of the enthusiasm that might havebeen expected from a man supporting a friend's cause. "Though I confess myself hopeful that cooler heads might yet prevail before morning."
"The morning cannot come soon enough," Pembroke declared. "I look forward to demonstrating that the Duke's military reputation was perhaps overstated by those who witnessed his service from a safe distance."
The insult to Lucian's war record represented yet another escalation in Pembroke's campaign of character assassination, calling into question not merely his present competence but his past heroism as well. Evangeline watched her husband's reaction with growing amazement, noting how each attack seemed to strengthen rather than weaken his resolve.
"Pembroke," Lord Melbourne interjected with the authority that came from being one of the senior peers present, "you appear to be in your cups. Perhaps you might wish to reflect upon your words before they lead to consequences that cannot be undone?"
"My words require no reflection," Pembroke replied with magnificent obstinacy. "I have merely stated truths that others lack the courage to voice publicly."
"Then we shall test the validity of those truths tomorrow morning," Lucian said with finality that ended all possibility of further negotiation. "Lord Worthington, please coordinate with Lord Ashford regarding the necessary arrangements. I believe Hampstead Heath provides suitable accommodations for such discussions."
The formal conclusion of the challenge sent a buzz of conversation through the ballroom as guests absorbed the full implications of what they had witnessed. Evangeline found herself unable to move or speak, trapped between terror at the prospect of losing her husband and amazement at his willingness to risk everything for her honor.
"Your Grace," Lady Pemberton approached with obvious distress at having her entertainment become the scene of such spectacular controversy, "I cannot express how deeply I regret that such unpleasantness has occurred beneath my roof."
"You need offer no apologies for the actions of others," Evangeline managed to reply, though her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. "Every gathering includes the possibility of encountering those whose conduct falls short of civilized standards."
Yet even as she spoke the proper words, her attention remained fixed upon Lucian as he concluded his arrangements with Worthington and the other gentlemen who had gathered to witness the formal completion of the challenge. His bearing suggested none of the anxiety she might have expected from a man facing mortal combat in a few hours—instead, he appeared almost relieved, as though the prospect of settling matters through honorable confrontation offered welcome clarity after weeks of legal maneuvering and emotional confusion.
"The arrangements are settled," Worthington informed Lucian as he returned from his consultation with Ashford. "Tomorrow morning at dawn, Hampstead Heath. Pistols at twenty paces, both parties to fire upon the count."
"Understood," Lucian replied with military precision. "I trust all necessary protocols will be observed?"
"To the letter, Your Grace. Mr. Brookes has agreed to attend in his professional capacity, while Mr. Blackwood will serve as official witness."
The mention of medical attendance served as a sobering reminder that tomorrow's confrontation carried the very real possibility of serious injury or death. Evangeline felt her knees grow weak as the full implications struck her. She might lose him just as she was beginning to understand how much he truly meant to her.
