You have insulted me and degraded me every time I've been in your presence. If my brother were here, he'd call you out! Since he is not here," she continued almost mindlessly, "I shall demand my own satisfaction. If I were a man, I'd have the right to satisfaction on the field of honor, and as a woman I refuse to be denied that right."
"You're ridiculous."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said softly, "but I also happen to be an excellent shot. I'm a far worthier opponent for you on the dueling field than my brother. Now, will you meet me outside, or shall I-I finish you here?" she threatened, so beside herself with fury that she never stopped to think how reckless, how utterly empty her threat was. Her coachman had insisted she learn to fire a weapon for her own protection, but although her aim was excellent when she'd practiced with targets, she had never shot a living thing.
"I'll do no such silly damned thing."
Elizabeth raised the gun higher. "Then I'll have your apology right now."
"What am I to apologize for?" he asked, still infuriatingly calm.
"You may start by apologizing for luring me into the greenhouse with that note."
"I didn't write a note. I a note from you."
"You have great difficulty sorting out the notes you send and don't send, do you not?" she said. Without waiting for a reply she continued, "Next, you can apologize for trying to seduce me in England, and for ruining my reputation-"
"Ian!" Jake said, thunderstruck. "It's one thing to insult a lady's handwriting, but spoilin' her reputation is another. A thing like could ruin her whole life!"
Ian shot him an ironic glance. "Thank you, Jake, for that helpful bit of inflammatory information. Would you now like to help her pull the trigger?"
Elizabeth's emotions veered crazily from fury to mirth as the absurdity of the bizarre tableau suddenly struck her: Here she was, holding a gun on a man in his own home, while poor Lucinda held another man at umbrella point-a man who was trying ineffectually to sooth matters by inadvertently heaping more fuel on the volatile situation. And then she recognized the stupid futility of it all, and that banished her flicker of mirth.
"You're ridiculous."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said softly, "but I also happen to be an excellent shot. I'm a far worthier opponent for you on the dueling field than my brother. Now, will you meet me outside, or shall I-I finish you here?" she threatened, so beside herself with fury that she never stopped to think how reckless, how utterly empty her threat was. Her coachman had insisted she learn to fire a weapon for her own protection, but although her aim was excellent when she'd practiced with targets, she had never shot a living thing.
"I'll do no such silly damned thing."
Elizabeth raised the gun higher. "Then I'll have your apology right now."
"What am I to apologize for?" he asked, still infuriatingly calm.
"You may start by apologizing for luring me into the greenhouse with that note."
"I didn't write a note. I a note from you."
"You have great difficulty sorting out the notes you send and don't send, do you not?" she said. Without waiting for a reply she continued, "Next, you can apologize for trying to seduce me in England, and for ruining my reputation-"
"Ian!" Jake said, thunderstruck. "It's one thing to insult a lady's handwriting, but spoilin' her reputation is another. A thing like could ruin her whole life!"
Ian shot him an ironic glance. "Thank you, Jake, for that helpful bit of inflammatory information. Would you now like to help her pull the trigger?"
Elizabeth's emotions veered crazily from fury to mirth as the absurdity of the bizarre tableau suddenly struck her: Here she was, holding a gun on a man in his own home, while poor Lucinda held another man at umbrella point-a man who was trying ineffectually to sooth matters by inadvertently heaping more fuel on the volatile situation. And then she recognized the stupid futility of it all, and that banished her flicker of mirth.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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