A Matter of Choice by Laura Landon Page A

his mouth. “How magnanimous.”
    “He is also willing to make it worth your while. Say, fifty thousand pounds.”
    Joshua’s eyebrows shot high and he turned his gaze to Chardwell’s shocked expression.
    “Lord Archbite has placed quite a value on my betrothed. I’m impressed.”
    Fitzwater smiled. “Lord Archbite appreciates Lady Allison’s exemplary qualities. She will of course make him the perfect countess.”
    “Of course.” Joshua crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels as if he was truly considering the offer.
    Fitzwater gave him a few more minutes before he lost patience. “Is there a reply you wish me to take to Lord Archbite?”
    Joshua dropped his hands and stepped closer to Fitzwater. “Yes. You can ask Lord Archbite if he prefers a bullet to the heart for a quick and easy death, or one to the gut. I think I prefer to lodge my bullet in his gut. I am told the victim’s pain is excruciating.”
    Fitzwater breathed a repulsed “hrumph”, then spun on his heel and left. Joshua doubted the messenger would relate the message verbatim. More’s the pity.
    “Fifty thousand pounds.” Chardwell followed his words with a low whistle. “Archbite must really want her. I wonder if your intended realizes how valuable she is.”
    He wanted to laugh. “Knowing her as I do, I doubt she would be impressed to know she was measured in monetary value. I think she is hoping to be valued for something less—calculating.”
    Chardwell started to laugh, but his laugh was cut off when Fitzwater stepped forward. “They’re ready, Montfort.”
    Joshua looked, then nodded.
    Chardwell clasped him on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for you here. And remember what I said. Watch Archbite’s hand. Don’t concentrate on the flag. He won’t wait for it to hit the ground.”
    Joshua gave him a broad smile, trying to shake the feeling that something was not as it should be. This was not the first duel he’d ever fought; there’d been others. But they’d been mostly for show. No one had ever died. None of his other challengers had ever wanted him dead. Not like the Earl of Archbite intended so he could claim his betrothed.
    A cold shiver raced up and down his spine and he knew it was not the early morning coolness that was the cause of such a chill. He looked around the small glade before stepping into place, noticing nothing unusual.
    A medium-sized crowd had gathered. Not out of the ordinary considering all the attention their argument had garnered yesterday. Or the wagers placed on the outcome at White’s.
    A black carriage pulled up at the outskirts of the crowd and a well-dressed female disembarked. Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. Some females had a taste for blood as great as a man’s.
    “Ready,” Fitzwater announced from a safe distance to the side of them. “You may fire when the flag hits the ground. Not before.”
    Joshua let his gaze concentrate on his opponent. Archbite’s eyes were nothing more than narrow slits, his mouth pursed in a thin, angry line. His nostrils flared like those of a fire-breathing dragon. The hatred emanating from him was alive and palpable, the loathing and jealousy as deadly as a cancer-eating sickness. Archbite had no intention of losing, had no intention of letting Joshua make Allison his wife. And he would play by whatever rules were necessary to win.
    Every nerve and muscle in his body stretched taut. If ever there was a reason to come out the victor, the reason stood before him. How could he give Allison over to that cur?
    Fitzwater raised his arm, the white flag clutched between his fingers. Archbite followed suit, holding his pistol out, steady and straight.
    Joshua did the same, never losing sight of the pistol aimed at the center of his chest. Never taking his eyes off Archbite’s finger resting on the trigger.
    From the corner of his eye, he saw Fitzwater release the flag, saw the white cloth flutter downward.
    He tightened his grip