Bewitching The Recluse [BOOK 2 of Price Family Saga]

42. Chapter (The Duel)

Bella and Arden eventually returned inside the residence, and Travis entered the drawing room just as they were removing their greatcoats.

"You appear quite worn and fatigued," Bella teased her brother, "and that moustache with long locks does little to enhance your countenance."

"I do feel worn and fatigued," Arden replied, scratching his beard. "Matthew is causing us distress – he refuses to slumber during the night and is awake early, even before the crowing of the rooster."

At that moment, his gaze fell upon Travis, and he was about to direct one of his witticisms toward him when he was interrupted by a brisk tapping on the floor. In the room, a small, fair-haired lad with verdant eyes appeared, gazed at Arden in astonishment, opened his mouth in wonder, turned on his small heel, and hastily departed.

"I discern your lineage, Marquess, when it presents itself," Arden remarked sardonically. Even though he now resembles the epitome of Evan Kendall... perhaps he shall develop in a more favourable direction than his morally compromised father, he pondered. 

Travis suppressed the need to roll his eyes at the stinging remark and only managed to cast a wry smile. Shortly thereafter, Bethany, the housemaid, hurried through the room, curtsied to them, offered apologies, and with a discreet call of Teddy's name, vanished.

"Indeed, 'tis the young Darlington, still possessing a wealth of knowledge to acquire regarding the intricacies of societal comportment under the tutelage of your esteemed sister," remarked the Marquess.

Arden observed the exchanged glances between Travis and Bella and, with a stern countenance, retorted: "Go to the devil, St. Arcey."

"Arden!" exclaimed Bella, to which her brother once again cast his stern gaze upon her.

"I find the notion distasteful that, in the direst circumstance, this dandy would prove too feeble to safeguard you," declared Arden.

"You know nothing about me, sir," replied Travis with a furrowed brow, though he would be dissembling if he asserted that Lord Price's words hadn't unsettled his inner confidence. He knew he fell short of the paragon of masculine perfection that this proud lord deemed himself to be, and rightfully so.

Arden chuckled in amusement. "I know sufficient about you to surmise that if the need arose to discharge a firearm, you would rather surrender the pistol to my sister and abscond from the fray like the craven you are."

Following these words, Travis felt the blood surging to his face, and he began to see red.

"Arden, that's enough!" exclaimed Bella in dismay.

"How am I to demonstrate that I can protect your sister?" Travis inquired, his voice resonating with anger.

Arden cast a contemplative gaze, as if he needed to deliberate on his response, when suddenly the voice of the majordomo, Mr. Lafferty, intervened:

"In the past eras, particularly medieval, gentlemen often engaged in public game pursuits not only to honour their sovereigns but also to settle disputes amongst themselves."

Travis immediately shot a disapproving look at the majordomo, as if to say, This is hardly the time to be wise, Lafferty!

"I find this notion intriguing!" exclaimed Arden with enthusiasm. "What specific games do you propose?"

"How about a round of chess, a display of fencing prowess, and a bit of target shooting on horseback?" suggested Lafferty.

Arden arched an eyebrow. "No pugilistic match, then?"

"With all due respect—" the majordomo began, but Arden interrupted:

"Very well, I accept the challenge. And what say you, St. Arcey? I hope you're not concerned about dishevelling your coiffure for once."