“How not? When, by all accounts, the man you’re dueling with is the most fiendish shot in all of Christendom?”

Fred’s condescending manner gave way to a flare of masculine indignation. “Oh, that’s what they’re saying, is it? And how might anyone know, pray? St. Clare has been on the continent for the better part of his life. I don’t recall anyone ever having seen him shooting at Manton’s.”

“If he’s been on the continent for most of his life, it’s because his father killed someone in a duel and they were forced to flee England. Dueling is in their blood, I hear.”

“No more than it is mine. My father fought two duels when he was a young man.”

“And in each one, he and his opponent deloped. I’ve heard the stories too, Fred. It isn’t the same at all.”

Fred glowered. “What do you know of affairs of honor? You’re a woman.”

Maggie answered him in a voice of perilous calm. “And women don’t have honor?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Margaret. Naturally a woman has honor. But a woman’s honor is as different from that of a gentleman’s as the sun is to the moon. You can’t begin to compare them.”

“On that I agree. You and I have exceedingly different notions of honor.”

In the past, her words would have prompted an out-and-out row with Fred. But this time he didn’t take the bait. Instead, with a visible effort, he regained his composure. He resumed sipping his tea, a mulish set to his jaw. “As I said before, this isn’t at all a suitable subject for us to be discussing.”

“No doubt,” Maggie replied. “But we must talk about it, and we shall talk about. For if you’re killed in the morning, what will happen to Beasley Park? What will happen to me?”

Fred’s large fingers tightened reflexively on the handle of his teacup. “Having not spent a great deal of time contemplating my own death, I can’t say with any certainty. I’d have to review your father’s will. And as it’s at the solicitor’s, and I won’t be at liberty to go into his office until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, it’s rather a moot point, don’t you think?”

Maggie stared at him blankly. “What do you imagine happens, then? My money and property won’t simply go up into a puff of smoke, will they? Who is to be in control of my inheritance if you’re unable? Did Papa name someone?”

“No. I don’t believe he did.”

“Then…?”

“I expect if for any reason I wasn’t able to fulfill my duties, the office would go to your distant uncle. That elderly fellow in Yorkshire. I can’t recall his name.”

“Mr. Arkham?” she said in tones of disbelief.