Excerpt:
Prologue
Hampstead Heath, London, England
1 April 1815
Four horses huddled together beneath the heavy boughs of a large elm tree in the early dawn. Cool rain fell gently, producing a layer of fog that sat just above the ground, creating an eerie visage. Four men stood in pairs at opposite sides of the wide tree, taking advantage of the cover the branches offered.
A short round man stepped out of a black unmarked carriage drawn close to the elm.
“Thank you for coming, Doctor Bernard,” a tall blond man acknowledged the practitioner, pulling a handful of white cloths from his pocket. “I am Lord Willington, Lord Greystone’s second.”
After shaking the doctor’s proffered hand, Willington strode from under the cover of the trees. He approached one man from the other pair and went about setting up the square. The two men stepped off twenty paces from opposing corners, dropping white handkerchiefs at the established corners. The men then divided into two small groups at opposing sides of the tree. Lord Adam Hunter, Marquess of Greystone, stood with his friend Benjamin Crewe, Lord Willington. Lord Aster stood with his second, Lord FitzRoy, on the farthest end.
“Are you sure you can issue no apology, Lord Aster?” The stout doctor held up his hands plaintively from the other side of the tree.
“I have nothing to apologize for, so no,” the man replied, nervously twirling the ends of his long mustache.
“Then I should speak to your second.” The doctor returned after a moment of contemplation, then stumbled over to the man’s second to discuss the proceedings.
“It is time,” Willington announced, tucking a gold pocket watch back into his waistcoat.
“Yes. Thank you, Willington. It is time.” Adam’s voice sounded hard, even to himself. He unwrapped a long box covered in a large oiled cloth and extended it to his opponent. It contained the swords he had inherited from his late uncle. “Choose your weapon, Lord Aster.”
God help him, but the man would feel the sting of whichever rapier he did not choose. It had come to this. Honora was dead, and every nerve in his body told him that this man was the reason for her death.
He had survived Waterloo only to return home to find himself jilted by the woman he had professed to love.