A door busted open behind and more than one pair of hands ripped William back. They slung him to the floor. Lochlan raised his sword.
“Pike, Lochlan, enough.” Gasping, Digby shook his head, glass shards sprinkling from his hair. “Get out of here.”
Both hesitated, glanced at William.
“Now!”
They grumbled but exited the house, though William doubted they went any farther than the other side of the door.
Digby motioned William back to his feet. “I underestimated you, I fear, Mr. Kensley. Had I been prepared for your little attack, I would have thrown you to the floor myself.”
“The chance is yours.”
“Am I to think this a challenge?”
“That day at the stables. You said if I were more your equal, you would demand satisfaction in a duel.” William’s chest worked up and down. Disgust churned his gut, soured his mouth with a taste so acrid he wanted to spit his repulsion into the face he stared at. “Well, Digby, you are no more rich and esteemed than I am. We are equal now.”
“What do you propose?”
Rage shook the core of his being. “A match to the death.”
The rain had ceased. For hours, William had been locked in one of the small hovels, a guard at both the window and the door, while he awaited Digby’s answer.
As if it mattered.
As if anything mattered.
From his position on the floor, he ran both hands through his hair. He laced his fingers behind his head. Everything hurt. He could not unsee her. He would never unsee her. The body stayed in his mind like the sting of a whip, lashing out pain he had no way to cope with. She was dead?
He tried not to think of Edward Gresham.“Your daughter is gone. We have failed. She was dead by the time I reached her.”The words carved their way through him.
He would never speak them, though.
He would not have the chance.
By the time the door banged open again, the world had already plunged into evening hues. They shoved him from the hovel to the house, but he kept his eyes away from the cluster of trees.
God, please.He did not want to see again. Even if she was buried.How could this happen?
Back within the chandelier lights of the house, Robert Digby stood by a narrow door, hand on the knob. “Leave us, men.” They obeyed in silence, then Digby’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I have given your match a great deal of consideration, and I daresay, there is only one resolution I can determine.” He glanced at the door, hesitated. “You see, Mr. Kensley, it is true we are of equal bloodline—but there is one great difference between us.”
William held the spearing eyes.
“You had nothing and accepted such a fate. I did not. Even as a youth, I determined that whatever I desired, I would attain. As you can see, I have.” He swept his hand across the room, where endless treasures gleamed in the chandelier light. “There is but one thing I have not yet gained. I had imagined I could break her. That with time and torture, she would relent to my request and ask for my hand in marriage.”
Relent.The body flashed again. His blood drained.Torture.
“But I have since determined that nothing shall persuade her—and thus, I present my proposition. Tomorrow at first light, we shall have your match to the death. If you win, my men shall be ordered to release you and Miss Gresham both. You may depart without the slightest hindrance from anyone.”
William stared at the door, air caught in his lungs, confusion faltering his heartbeat. What was he saying? She was alive? Then who was the woman in the mud?
“But if I am to triumph, Miss Gresham must first agree to the stipulation.”
“Which is?”
“To become my wife.” Robert Digby flung open the door to a dark room. He motioned inside. “As this is a proposition so greatly affecting both of you, you must be allowed a moment together. But do decide quickly. I daresay, I am very much anticipating the answer.”
CHAPTER 20
