The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(91)

Oh, God! “Edward, stop this, please.” Anna spoke low.

He pulled Jock off Lillipin and toward her. “Guard.”

The dog obediently stood braced in front of Anna.

“But—”

Edward looked at her sternly, cutting off her words. He shed his coat. Lillipin jumped to his feet, removed his coat and waistcoat, and drew his sword. Edward unsheathed his own weapon. The two men stood in a suddenly cleared space.

This was happening too fast. It was like a nightmare she couldn’t stop. The room had grown silent, faces turned avidly at the prospect of bloodshed.

The men saluted, bringing their swords up before their faces; then each bent slightly at the knee, their blades in front of them. Slimmer and shorter than Edward, the younger man’s stance was consciously elegant with his left hand curved in a graceful arc behind his head. Lillipin wore a linen shirt trimmed in fountains of Belgian lace that flowed as he moved. Edward stood solidly, his unarmed hand held out behind him for balance, not grace. His black waistcoat had only a thin line of black braid along the edge, and his white shirt was unadorned.

Lillipin sneered. “En garde!” The younger man lunged. His rapier moved in a glinting flurry.

Edward blocked the attack. His sword slid and scraped against his opponent’s. He stepped back two paces as Lillipin advanced, weapon flashing. Anna bit her lip. Surely he was on the defensive? Lillipin seemed to think so as well. His lips curved in an oily grin.

“Chilly Lilly killed two men last year,” a voice crowed from the crowd behind her. Anna drew in her breath sharply. She’d heard of the bucks in London who amused themselves by challenging and killing less-skilled swordsmen. Edward spent most of his time in the country. Could he even defend himself?

The men moved in a tight circle, sweat gleaming on their faces. Lillipin lunged forward, and his sword chattered against Edward’s. Edward’s right sleeve shredded. Anna moaned, but no telltale red stained the sleeve. Lillipin’s blade darted out again, a snake striking, and bit into Edward’s shoulder. Edward grunted. This time crimson drops fell to the floor. Anna started forward, only to be halted by Jock’s jaws clamped gently around her arm.

“Blood,” Iddesleigh called out, echoed closely by Lillipin’s seconds.

Neither duelist wavered. The swords sang and attacked. Edward’s sleeve steadily bloomed a bright red. With each movement of his arm, blood sprayed over the floor, bright droplets that were immediately smeared into streaks by the combatants’ feet. Weren’t they supposed to stop at the first blood drawn?

Unless they fought to the death.

Anna stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle a scream. She couldn’t distract Edward now. She stood absolutely still, her eyes brimming with tears.

Suddenly, Edward lunged and lunged again. His lead foot stomped against the floor with the ferocity of his attack. Lillipin fell back and brought his sword up to defend his face. Edward’s arm made a controlled circular movement; his blade flashed up and over his opponent’s weapon. Lillipin squealed in pain. The sword flew from his hand, sliding with a clatter across the room. Edward stood with the tip of his weapon pressed into the soft skin at the base of Lillipin’s throat.

The younger man breathed hard, his bleeding right hand cradled in his left.

“You may have won by luck, Swartingham,” Lillipin panted, “but you cannot stop me from talking once I leave this—”

Edward flung down his sword and slammed his fist into the other man’s face. Lillipin staggered back, arms flailed wide, and fell to the floor with a thump. He lay still.

“Actually, I can stop you,” Edward muttered, and shook his right hand.

There was a long-suffering sigh from directly behind Anna. “I knew you’d resort to fisticuffs eventually.” Viscount Iddesleigh stepped around her.

Edward looked affronted. “I did duel him first.”

“Yes, and your form was atrocious as always.”

The man with the green eyes rounded Anna’s other side and silently bent to pick up Edward’s sword.

“I won,” Edward said pointedly.

The viscount sneered. “Sadly so.”

“Would you have preferred he best me?” Edward demanded.

“No, but in a perfect world, classic form would win every time.”

“This isn’t a perfect world, thank God.”

Anna couldn’t stand it any longer. “Idiot!” She hit Edward’s chest, but then remembered and frantically tore at his bloody sleeve.

“Darling, what—?” Edward sounded nonplussed.

“It’s not enough that you had to fight that awful man,” she panted, her vision half obscured by tears. “You let him hurt you. You’re bleeding all over the floor.” Anna got the sleeve open and felt dizzy when she saw the terrible gash marring his beautiful shoulder. “And now you’re probably going to die.” She sobbed as she pressed her handkerchief, pitifully inadequate, against his wound.

“Anna, sweetheart, hush.” Edward tried to put his arms around her, but she batted them aside.

“And for what? What was worth dueling that horrible man over?”

“You.” Edward spoke softly, and her breath caught midsob. “You are worth anything and everything to me. Even bleeding to death in a brothel.”

Anna choked, unable to speak.