Lady Margery's Intrigue by Marion Chesney

Author:Marion Chesney [Chesney, Marion]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, SciFi/Fantasy
ISBN: 9780783896144
Google: iPEBAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0449216594
Barnesnoble: 0449216594
Goodreads: 548486
Publisher: Fawcett
Published: 1980-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

The white-hot heat of rage that had carried Toby posthaste to London had also carried him straight to Watier's, where he found Freddie playing hazard. His hand seeming to move of its own volition, Toby struck his friend across the face and demanded satisfaction. He would kill Freddie first and deal with Perry afterwards.

His rage had carried him through a restless night and through the dark ride to Chalk Farm in the early hours of the morning, where he was to meet Freddie.

Now he would have given anything for one particle of that splendid rage to sustain him.

It was as beautiful a morning as a man could wish to see. Golden sunlight sparkled on the dewladen grass and burned in diamonds on the spiders’ webs. Daisies starred the grass, opening their petals to the warmth of the sun. Quite near him, blissfully unaware of the violent world of men, a robin fought gallantly with a large worm. A hawthorn tree stood in the center of the field, a bridal miracle of white blossom. To Chaucer it was a sight that “fills full the wanton eye with May's delight” but to Toby Sanderson it seemed like a white ghost come to mock the folly of one hotheaded London guck.

Toby wished Freddie would hurry up before the tide of memories threatened to engulf him. What sport and larks he and Freddie had kicked up together. Now, in a few minutes, they would be facing each other in all the glory of the summer's morning, each attempting to put a ball through the heart of the other. Insanity!

Well, at least he, Toby, was a poor shot. Nonetheless, he would delope. Freddie should have the honor of killing his man.

Toby heard the clatter of horses’ hooves. His seconds had arrived. Then all too soon came the carriage with the surgeon, then Freddie himself, followed by Viscount Swanley and the Marquess of Edgecombe.

Both men measured their distance. The handkerchief fluttered to the ground. Both men deliberately raised their weapons to fire into the air. But Toby, who could not have hit a barn door were he pointing his weapon straight at it, by trying desperately to miss his friend by miles succeeded in hitting his target for the first time in his life.

Freddie stood swaying on his feet, his mouth hanging foolishly open in surprise, before he fell headlong on the grass, the blood from his wound gushing over the grass and staining the daisies crimson.

Toby fell to his knees. Great racking sobs tore themselves from his chest and shattered the summer silence like obscenities. Then he was dimly aware of the marquess shaking his shoulder and saying, “It's all right, d'ye hear? It's all right. I think Freddie has a flesh wound and that it looks worse than it is. The surgeon's binding him up, and it won't do him any good to hear you going on as if you're at a funeral.”

Toby dried his eyes on his sleeve and let the marquess help him to his feet.

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