Reverend Gaunt intervened. “Shall we stick to the point instead of raking up scores?”
Giff threw a mischievous glance at his great-uncle through his good eye, and slid a look up at his henchman. “Sattar knows my mind, and that I don’t mean it. Can’t let him ride roughshod over me all the time. I have to maintain my dignity somehow.”
A grim smile curled Sattar’s lip and Giff was satisfied. He would not escape a scold from his devoted retainer once the rector departed, but it would be a mild one.
“Attend to me, Giffard. What do you mean to do? It did not seem to me that you relished any of the suggestions put forward at the dinner table.”
“It’s not that, sir. Most of them will take too long. I don’t see Piers waiting for me to hunt down whoever may have acted for him in his attempt to gain the title, as Lady Matterson suggested.”
“But it’s a good thought, Giffard. They, of all people, must beaufaitwith what may be needed to bring the matter to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“They, of all people, will require proof, Uncle George. And where am I to find it?”
His great-uncle sighed. “There’s the rub, I agree. But at least it will bring the matter into the light.”
Impatience rode Giff. “And take years and years to settle while Piers enriches himself at my expense and I grow stale with boredom. Besides, if they acted for Piers, they won’t be inclined to pursue my suit. No, sir. I’ll do it on my own terms or not at all.”
At this point, Sattar requested him to sit still while he removed his shirt. “I must see if you are hurt elsewhere, sahib.”
His mind on the difficulties confronting him, Giff allowed his henchman to pull the shirt over his head without protest. An exclamation from his uncle drew his attention.
“Heavens, my dear boy, they have properly mauled you!”
Giff glanced at his torso and found reddened and broken skin down his left side. He touched it and hissed in a breath. “Damnation take that Sam! He must have got me with his club.”
“You have taken a bruise to your back also, sahib,” said Sattar, peering behind him.
“Probably when they drove me to the ground. Explains why I’ve been feeling a trifle stiff.”
“A trifle! That settles it, my dear Giffard. You are in no condition to be fighting duels. You must find another solution.”
“Temporarily, sir. I’ll mend fast enough.”
Sattar was already smearing his Tiger Balm across these fresh wounds, and to say truth, he was aching all over. Despite his words, he knew there was no confronting Piers across the length of a sword in his present state.
The rector was watching Sattar. “You will have to keep him in check, my friend. Piers is no mean swordsman.”
Sattar straightened, giving Reverend Gaunt one of his fiercest looks. “You think he will pay mind to me, sahib? I look every day to be running to Sahib Favell with a corpse instead of a son. If instead I do not jump into the sea for shame.”
Giff laughed and gave him a buffet on the arm. “See what I have to put up with, sir? He’s been prophesying disaster since we set out from Bishnupur.”
“Since I was cursed with a devil boy little more than a babe, sahib. Aged I am by more than my years for having a demon forever at my heels.”
Reverend Gaunt smiled at this sally, but the worried look in his eyes did not abate.
Giff leaned across and set a hand on his knee. “Don’t trouble your head over me, Uncle George. I’ve survived worse than anything Piers can do, believe me.”
“You may believe, sahib,” put in Sattar sourly. “I have said often and often this boy is born under a lucky star.”
The rector laughed and rose. “I must go. I trust you are for bed, Giffard? You need to rest.”
“Have no fear, sahib. I will tie him in if I must.”
Giff had to laugh. “He would too. I’m only glad of my wounds or he’d likely be tempted to use me as he did in my youth.”
“I never thrashed you but you deserved it, sahib,” said his henchman with dignity.
“I deserved it all too often, you old taskmaster. But I’m glad enough to go to my bed tonight, sir. It’s been a trying day.”