Harriet sighed. "It was a bit more than just an insult, I'll grant you. Nevertheless—"

"How much more than just an insult?" Effie demanded.

"Mr. Morland attacked me, if you must know the truth." Harriet saw the horror in her aunt's eyes and hastened to reassure her. "But there was no great harm done. Except to Mr. Morland. I dropped a rather large stone on his head. But St. Justin refuses to let the matter rest."

"I should think not," Effie retorted. "This news changes everything. Of course St. Justin must do something."

"Oh, Harriet," Felicity breathed. "St. Justin is going to fight a duel over your honor I think that is terribly romantic."

"Well, I do not," Harriet snapped. "I have got to find a way to prevent it."

"He must love you very much," Felicity observed, eyes filled with wonder.

Harriet grimaced. "It is not that at all. It is simply that St. Justin takes his honor very seriously."

"And as you are his wife, your honor is tied to his own," Felicity said softly.

"Unfortunately, yes." Harriet straightened with resolve. "But I will find a way to stop this stupid duel. I have already taken steps."

"Steps?"

"This morning before you arrived I sent for assistance."

Effie stared at her. "What sort of assistance?"

"St. Justin's parents," Harriet said with satisfaction. "I dispatched a note to them informing them that something dreadful was about to happen. I am certain they will help me find a way to end this matter. After all, St. Justin is their only son and heir. They will not want him risking his neck in a duel any more than I do."

The rumors of the duel and the Quarrel and Harriet's attack on Rushton were not only titillating the ton. Harriet discovered that afternoon that they were also the talk of the Fossil and Antiquities Society meeting.

Fry and Applegate, both looking solemn and extremely important, assumed the stature of Dashing Men of Action the moment they walked into Lady Youngstreet's drawing room. Everyone edged close to the duo in hopes of picking up a crumb of information.

"Matter of honor," Fry declared in grave tones. "Cannot discuss it further, of course. Very serious matter. Very serious indeed."

"Absolutely cannot talk about it," Applegate said. "Quite certain you all understand. Can only say St. Justin is dealing with this as a gentleman. Afraid I cannot say the same about the other party involved. Refuses to see us or name his seconds."

Harriet, who was sitting on the sofa, overheard Applegate's remark and brightened slightly. She wondered desperately if that meant Morland would manage to find a way to call off the duel. Perhaps he would send his apology to Gideon. She leaned forward, straining to hear more from Applegate.

Unfortunately, Lady Youngstreet chose that moment to sit down beside her. She gave Harriet a droll wink. Harriet realized she had already had a nip of her afternoon sherry.

"Well, well, well, my girl," Lady Youngstreet said grandly. "That was quite a production you staged last night. Flew at Rushton like a little tigress, you did."

"He called St. Justin a beast," Harriet said defensively.

Lady Youngstreet tilted her head thoughtfully to one side. "Do you know, I was never particularly aware of Rushton until lately. Don't believe he had the blunt go into Society much. But one sees him everywhere these days, doesn't one?"

"Yes," Harriet muttered. "One does."

The more people talked about the duel, the more ominous and inevitable it all became. It was clear to Harriet that her campaign to change Gideon's mind by refusing to speak to him was not working. She wondered gloomily if she should drop the tactic.

He did not even seem to notice her anger.

That afternoon when he helped her mount her beautiful new mare, he conducted a pleasant, one-sided conversation just as if Harriet were responding normally.

"Well, then, what do you think of her? The two of you make an excellent pair." Gideon tossed Harriet lightly up onto the saddle and then stepped back to admire the sight of her perched on the mare. He nodded his satisfaction. "Stunning, in fact."

Harriet, dressed in a ruby red habit with a perky red hat on her thick hair, could hardly keep silent. The little Arabian was truly beautiful. Harriet had never in her life ridden such an elegant horse. She patted the sleek neck in wonder.

Gentle, intelligent, and well-mannered, the mare pranced cheerfully along beside Gideon's massive bay stallion. The Arabian was clearly not the least intimidated by the bay's size.

Harriet was acutely aware of the stares as they rode into the park. She knew she and Gideon probably made a riveting couple, not only because of the gossip that surrounded them, but because of the picture they made together on horseback. A knight astride his destrier on an outing with his lady on her palfrey, she thought whimsically.

Harriet was so struck by the image that she almost broke her vow of silence to tell Gideon about it. Her lips parted on the words and then she firmly sealed them.

Gideon smiled blandly. "I know this business of being silent must be extremely hard on you, my dear. And completely unnecessary. You have said yourself I am inordinately stubborn. You are not likely to change my mind with your silence."

Harriet glowered at him and knew he was right. The man was impossibly stubborn. She gave up the campaign of silence with a sense of relief mixed with annoyance.

"You are correct, my lord," she said crisply. "You are extremely stubborn. But you do have excellent taste in horses." She smiled happily down at her beautiful mare.

"Thank you, my dear," Gideon said humbly. "It is always nice to know one is useful for some purpose."

"I have a great many purposes for you, my lord. But you will not be of any use to me at all if you get yourself killed in this stupid duel." She turned to him impulsively. "Gideon, you must not go through with this thing."

Gideon's mouth curved. "You are certainly persistent, madam. I will tell you once again there is nothing to concern you in this. Everything is under control. Try to have some trust in your poor husband."

"It is not a question of trust, it is a question of common sense." Harriet gazed straight ahead over her mare's ears. "Allow me to tell you that you are not displaying any at the moment." A sudden thought struck her "Gideon, is there something going on here I do not know about? Are you by any chance concocting one of your mysterious schemes?"

"I have a plan, my dear. I usually do. That is all I am prepared to say at the moment."

"Tell me about it," Harriet demanded.

"No," said Gideon.

"Why not? I am your wife. You can trust me."

"It is not a matter of trust." Gideon smiled briefly. "It is a matter of common sense."

Harriet frowned at him. "You do not think I can keep a secret? I am insulted, sir."

"It is not that, my dear. It is just that in this instance, I am convinced it would be best if no one besides myself knew what was planned."

"But you have taken Applegate and Fry into your confidence," Harriet protested.

"Only partially into my confidence. Forgive me, my sweet. But I am accustomed to dealing with things on my own. It is an old habit."

"You have a wife now," she reminded him.

"Believe me, I am well aware of that."

Two evenings later when Harriet entered the Lambsdales' ballroom, she heard the buzz of anticipation and knew she was in for more of the maddening gossip. It was starting to make her frantic.

There had been no sign of Gideon's parents yet. She was beginning to wonder if her message had gone awry or if the animosity between Gideon and his father was so great that the earl would not deign to come to his son's assistance even in a matter of life and death. Or perhaps the earl was not feeling well enough to travel.