The Serpent Prince (Princes #3)(50)

“What—?” James tried to twist away.

Simon slammed his arm to the table. A jack of clubs fell from the lace at James’s wrist. The other players around the table froze.

“The Pam.” Lord Kyle’s voice sounded rusty from disuse. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, James?”

“That’s not m-m-mine.”

Simon leaned back in his chair and rubbed his right index finger lazily. “It fell from your cuff.”

“You!” James jumped up, his chair toppling behind him. He looked like he would strike Simon, but then thought better of it.

Simon raised an eyebrow.

“You s-s-set me up, slipped me the bloody P-p-pam!”

“I’ve been losing.” Simon sighed. “You insult me, James.”

“No!”

Simon continued, unperturbed. “I trust swords at dawn—”

“No! Jesus, no!”

“Meet with your approval?”

“God!” James clutched his own hair, the beautiful locks coming out of his ribbon. “This isn’t right. I d-d-didn’t have the bloody Pam.”

Lord Kyle gathered the cards. “Another hand, gentlemen?”

“My God,” the boy whispered. He’d gone pale and looked like he might cast up his accounts.

“You can’t d-d-do this!” James screamed.

Simon got to his feet. “Tomorrow, then. Better get some sleep, what?”

Lord Kyle nodded, his attention already on the next game. “Good night, Iddesleigh.”

“I-I’m done as well. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen?” The pigeon nearly ran from the room.

“Nooo! I’m innocent!” James started sobbing.

Simon winced and walked from the room.

Christian caught up with him in the main parlor. “Did you . . . ?”

“Shut up,” Simon hissed. “Not here, idiot.”

Thankfully, the younger man kept quiet until they reached the street. Simon signaled to his coachman.

Christian whispered, “Did you . . . ?”

“Yes.” God, he was weary. “Do you want a ride?”

Christian blinked. “Thanks.”

They got in and the carriage pulled away.

“You’d better find his seconds tonight and arrange the duel.” Simon was overcome by a ghastly lethargy. His eyes were full of grit, and his hands were shaking. The morning wasn’t that far away. He’d either kill a man or die himself when it came.

“What?” Christian asked.

“Quincy James’s seconds. You need to find out who they are, arrange the meeting place and time. All that. The same as the last times.” He yawned. “You are going to act as my second, aren’t you?”

“I—”

Simon closed his eyes. If he lost Christian, he didn’t know what he’d do. “If you aren’t, I’ve got four hours to find another.”

“No. I mean, yes,” the young man blurted. “I’ll be your second. Of course I’ll be your second, Simon.”

“Good.”

There was a silence in the carriage, and Simon fell into a doze.

Christian’s voice woke him. “You went there to find James, didn’t you?”

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it a woman?” His companion sounded genuinely puzzled. “Has he caused you an insult?”

Simon almost laughed. He’d forgotten that there were men who dueled for such silly things. “Nothing so inconsequential.”

“But why?” Christian’s voice was urgent. “Why do it that way?”

Jesus! He didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. Had he ever in his life been this naive? He gathered his wits to try to explain the blackness that lived in men’s souls.

“Because gambling’s his weakness. Because he couldn’t help himself once I’d joined the game. Because he can’t possibly turn me down or worm his way out. Because he’s the man he is and I’m the man I am.” Simon finally looked at his terribly young friend and gentled his voice. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

Christian’s brow was furrowed as if he was working out a difficult mathematical problem. “I didn’t realize . . . This is the first time I’ve been with you when you challenged your opponent. It seems so unfair. Not at all honorable.” Christian’s eyes suddenly widened as if he’d just realized the insult.

Simon started laughing and found he couldn’t stop. Tears gathered in his eyes from the mirth. Oh God, what a world!

Finally, he gasped, “Whatever gave you the idea I was honorable?”

Chapter Ten

The predawn mist lay like gray winding sheets, writhing on the ground. It swirled about Simon’s legs as he made his way to the agreed-upon dueling place, seeping through leather and linen to chill his very bones. In front of him, Henry held a lantern to light their way, but the mist veiled the light so they seemed to move in a disquieting dream. Christian walked beside him, strangely silent. He’d spent the night contacting and conferring with James’s seconds, and gotten little, if any, sleep. Up ahead, another light loomed, and the shapes of four men emerged in the dawn. Each had a nimbus of breath cowling his head.