Page 77 of Henrietta

He considered the prospect of rejoining the table, but felt – rightly – that he was unlikely to recoup any of the losses he had already sustained. Instead, he made his way, a trifle unsteadily, towards the door, just as Corky – most unfortunately – attempted to enter it. Timothy had just decided that the truest revenge would be for him to politely ignore the betrayer when the catastrophe happened. Corky, walking past, contrived to trip, spilling his glass upon Timothy’s trousers for the second time in as many months.

‘Oh!’ he said, in an affectation of shock that fired Timothy up even further.

‘There!’ he said, dashing his own glass upon the fellow’s waistcoat. ‘That is what I think of you!’

‘How dare you!’

After that, a duel had seemed inevitable. Corky had issued the challenge immediately.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE Allerton party went their separate ways that evening. Arthur had abandoned his duties and made for his club, while Hetty – whose energy had disappeared with his exit – soon left Trixie and Lady Allerton to dance the night away. Berkeley Square was dark and quiet when she arrived, and for the first time in many days, she was glad of it. She felt, suddenly, as if she could weep. She and Arthur had hardly ever fought before, and now it seemed as if every moment they shared was fraught with some kind of horrible tension.

So sunk into thought was Hetty that when she came across Timothy, sitting upon the stairs in the dark, she had the fright of her life.

‘Timothy!’ She pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Oh, hello, Hetty.’ Timothy’s voice was dull. ‘Awfully sorry. Just on the way to bed and thought I’d – thought I’d sit here for a bit.’

‘Why are you here, and not at your lodgings?’ she said.

‘I … don’t know, really,’ Timothy said vacantly.

Hetty squinted, trying to see his face in the dark. Was it just the light, or did he look paler than normal?

‘Are you drunk?’

‘No,’ he said heavily. ‘Well – used to be, earlier. Not any more. More’s the pity.’

‘You look rather peaky.’

‘It’s the waistcoat,’ he said. ‘Never should have bought it. Washes me out – knew that at the start, but, well. Everyone’s allowed to make mistakes, aren’t they?

He gave a funny sort of laugh.

‘Timothy?’

‘Oh, Hetty.’ He looked very young suddenly. ‘I’ve made such a mull of things.’

It had not been Timothy’s intention to unburden himself – he had thought he would manfully maintain his silence until the end. Once Hetty had them both seated in the parlour, however, and had sworn herself to secrecy under the soft light of the taper, he found the whole story spilling out.

‘Now we have to duel,’ Timothy told Hetty.

‘Oh, Timothy.’ Hetty tried not to laugh. ‘All this over some flowers?’

Timothy set his jaw. ‘Over honour,’ he corrected. ‘Over a man’s word.’

Perceiving the stubbornness upon his face, Hetty did not argue this point any further. ‘But you’re obviously not going to go through with it, are you?

‘I must,’ he said. ‘A man of honour cannot refuse such a challenge. We meet at dawn on Monday morning.’

Hetty blinked. ‘Not tomorrow?’

‘Promised Mother I’d escort her to church,’ Timothy reasoned. ‘Can’t miss that. And Corky had an appointment with Jackson the boxer – not strictly correct, on the Lord’s day, but he was very lucky to secure it, and I am not such a cad as to cause him to forgo such a treat!’

‘No,’ Hetty agreed gravely. ‘Kind of you, in fact. And who is your – ah – second?’

Timothy brightened. ‘Hargan,’ he said. ‘Managed to pip Corky to the post on that one!’