above them. The sun was just coming over the horizon, casting golden rays along the grasses waving above them. It looked like Margaret’s hair blowing in the wind. He closed his eyes for a moment to hold a memory of her in his gaze, and then opened them again and took a deep breath. “I am ready.” He winked at his friend. “I appreciate you doing this, my friend. I can see it has impressed the others that you would appear as my second.”
“I would not be anywhere else,” Andrew answered soberly, “but my impressive uniform will only do so much. I beg you to find other ways of being impressive today, Nigel. Don’t spare him.”
Nigel went to stand near Reginald, their backs to each other. Before the count began, Reginald whispered in a low tone: “It’s a pity she won’t be here to see you die. She’ll be mine as soon as you’re gone.”
“If you really believe that,” Nigel answered in the same low tone, “then it is proof of how little you truly know her.”
They began walking along the beach in count with the witnesses’ direction, waiting for the count of ten to turn and shoot. Nigel’s gun felt heavy and familiar in his hand. He remembered the times he had used in it the war, the other lives he had taken.
He thought of Margaret and knew she would be furious he had gone through with it, but it was too late to turn back now. He waited for the call to come, but it never did. At the moment when he expected to turn, when his finger was already on the trigger, he heard a cry from the woods and turned to see two figures advancing towards them.
One of the men was a magistrate.
Nigel dropped his pistol even as he saw his opponent do the same. It was undeniable that the men would have been seen pacing off before the duel – how could they not have known what was happening? But he waited and watched as they approached.
The rising sunlight was disorienting, and it took Nigel a moment to realise the second, shorter figure was that of Sir Arthur. Both men were walking at an easy stroll, and Sir Arthur raised his hands to his mouth to call out again. Nigel realised the first cry, and this second, where not apprehension but rather a greeting.
“Gentleman!” Sir Arthur called, “How fortunate that I have met you here.” He kept walking, clearly unable to call out and clamour over the terrain at the same time. Nigel looked at Reginald, whose face was drawn and agitated. Both men had been caught red-handed.
When the magistrate arrived at Sir Arthur’s side, both men were out of breath. The magistrate was an older man, balding, with sharp eyes that took in the scene before him.
“What is this?” he asked, eyes on the weapons in hand.
Sir Arthur spoke before Nigel could offer an explanation of any kind. “A little early for fox hunting, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes levelled on Nigel’s, holding him captive. “I thought it was better to catch the little beasts in the witching hour before sundown, not before sunrise.”
Nigel blinked, recognising the offer of aid that was being given him. “I thought the same,” he said, “but Lord Waddington here insisted that as long as the light was irregular it would be disorienting enough for the prey.”
“Yes, I do remember him saying something about that,” Sir Arthur said quickly, turning to the magistrate. “What do you think, John?”
The older man set his teeth. “That is what you were doing?” he asked pointedly. “You were…hunting for fox?”
“Yes,” Reginald said coldly. “Do you have a problem with that, sir?”
Nigel could see that the older man did not believe a word of it, but he also seemed willing enough to set aside the paperwork and scandal associated with an arrest since no harm had been done and no harm was likely to be done while the two men stood in his presence. The group, at one point spread out across the beach as the duel required, came quickly together, everyone, including the doctor and the witness from town, waiting to see what would happen next. It was again Sir Arthur who took the lead. He cleared his throat and turned to Reginald.
“It is fortunate that I have stumbled upon you here,” he said. “It was my understanding that there was some grievance between you and Captain Bateson, Lord Waddington, and I