“Hot out today.”

Dare nodded to the elderly man sitting across from him as he took his seat in one of the leather armchairs, ordering a restorative beverage from the attendant lurking behind his elbow before turning his attention to the man who had spoken. “That it is.”

“Ye’re the Scot, ain’t ye? The fellow everyone is talking about.”

Dare allowed as to his ancestry and said nothing about his sudden fame. No doubt people were still discussing his terrible accident. It was impossible to ignore the subject since he was wearing an eye patch—an eye patch made by his loving wife’s hands. This one was silver with blue piping, made to match his waistcoat of the same colors. She had presented it and several others to him earlier, pointing out with great solemnity that she had fashioned an eye patch to match all of his waistcoats.

Only Charlotte would think of color coordinating eye patches.

“Heard tell that other fellow, the other Scot, has called you out.”

Dare’s hand froze for a moment in midreach as he was about to take his glass off the tray the servant held. He took the drink and waved off the man before asking, “What did you say?”

The man opposite him was quite elderly, had to be near a hundred, with wild white hair, piercing blue eyes that looked remarkably lucid despite the age of their owner, and a strongly jutting nose that rose from the crisscrossed lines that mapped out the man’s face. An ebony stick rested next to the man’s leg, one gnarled hand trembling with gentle palsy next to the silver head of a lion that topped the stick.

“This other McGregor says ye were behind the kidnapping that sent him to China in order to take a title that rightfully would have been his. That true, boy?”

Dare ground his teeth. He had tolerated much in his life because it was fitting at the time, but never had he tolerated a slur to his honor or his name. “No, sir, it is most definitely not true. If my cousin has stated his intention to meet me on the field of honor over this, I will be happy to satisfy him. If he hasn’t, then I will be even happier to demand his presence.”

“Thought ye’d see it like that. Never were one to take a slight. Fought a few duels in yer day, haven’t ye?”

“A few,” Dare ground out, his eye scanning the common room of the club in hopes it would light upon the figure of his cousin.

“Don’t think I’d be letting your lady wife know about it, though,” the old man said thoughtfully, one twisted finger rubbing his chin. “Lady Charlotte’s another chit with her own mind. Like as not she’d think of a way to put a halt to it. Best you keep your plans to yourself if you don’t want to end up in Crouch’s hands again.”

Through an open doorway Dare saw a flash of scarlet that looked like it belonged to the elegant figure who had so publicly challenged him. He stood and bowed to the elderly man who was looking at him so curiously. He’d been saying something about Charlotte, but Dare hadn’t time to listen to him now. He had a challenge to accept…or offer. “Thank you for your advice, sir—”