“I have a plan,” he said as he caught his breath as he laid next to her on the bed.
“We can run away together,” she said.
“We can duel. I’ll duel him,” Dominick said.
“He said you have no honor.”
Dominick digested that information, and it left a sour look upon his face. “He said that about me?”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “He may not duel you; dueling is for honorable men.”
“And you don’t think I’m honorable?” Dominick snapped, too loudly.
“I did not claim that, and be quiet, if my father were to wake.”
Dominick nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll challenge him. A sword fight. I can beat him. If I win, I’ll tell him the marriage will not happen. If he thinks I have no honor, I’ll show him.”
Catherine just nodded as they lay in the darkness though she wasn’t sure Dominick's plan was the best one they could come up with.
In the morning, the young man was gone. Just after lunch Duke Rotham called upon her.
“You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, when they were alone, strolling arm and arm through the garden.
“I love him,” Catherine said.
“I’ve accepted his request,” Andrew told her. “A Gentleman cannot refuse.”
“He’ll kill you!” Catherine said. “You cannot!”
“I can, and I have. He is a formidable fighter, quite the boxer I’ve heard. But sword fighting, it’s another thing altogether. I’ve fenced for many years; my foil is sharp.”
“He’s strong.”
“You don’t believe me to be strong?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I know you are, but he’s stronger.”
They stopped walking, and Duke Rotherham looked to her. “Fear not for me, and if he allows it when I have bested him, I will leave him alive.
Catherine looked at the man, and her heart was so torn, and her mind so full of fear, she couldn’t speak to him.
****
They met for the duel that same evening, as the sun was sinking in the sky, turning the clouds that had formed a soft pink. They were dueling in front of Duke Rotham’s manor. He stood with a few servants, dressed smartly, choosing a foil from a choice of five. After he had selected his, the servants moved to Dominick, and he chose one without nearly as much consideration as Andrew had put into it.
The two men faced each other, and they bowed.
“A fight to the death then?” Dominick asked.
“If it comes to that,” Andrew replied. A small group had gathered to watch, including Catherine and her father. The Duke went on. “But I hope it does not come to that. First to yield is the loser.”
“I won’t yield,” Dominick said angrily. “I love her.”
“So do I,” Andrew said, his eyes flickering over to Catherine. She felt her heart hammering in her chest, so hard that she thought for one wild moment, it would leap up the canal from her chest and out through her mouth.
And then the duel began.
Both men came together, and with a flash of silver their swords clanged. They both moved quickly, their feet taking them back and forth. The crowd reacted to each near miss, backing up when need be. The Duke caught Dominick on the arm and drew blood, and the crowd gasped, but the young men refused to yield, and he went forward, pressing the attack on the older gentleman.
Andrew was experienced, that much was plain, and if they were going by just skill, he would be the winner. But Dominick fought with something else, something other than skill. He had fury. He was angry, and though his blows missed and were easily parried, they were strong and brutal. When his blade met Andrew’s, the roar of the metal striking metal was almost like a beast screaming out in pain.
Dominick went on the offensive, and he hammered the Duke back. Over and over his foil clashed against Andrew’s. And just when it looked as though Dominick might get a blow past the other man's guard, Andrew dashed out with a wild thrust, which pierced Dominick’s stomach and made him lose grip of his weapon.
“No!” Catherine yelled, and she almost stepped forward, but her father put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her back.
Dominick’s shirt was stained crimson as his blood poured freely. He fell to his knees, and Duke Rotham stepped forward, holding his blade at the boy’s neck.
“Do you yield?” he asked.
Dominick looked up to him. “You’ve taken everything from me, what is my life?”
“If she knew the man you were, if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want to be with you,” Rotham said.
“What does he mean?” Catherine called, stepping away from her father. Dominick looked to her, sitting on his knees with his hand on his wound. Blood poured from between his fingers.