“Bloody bastard!” Trevor bellowed. Then he planted a facer direct to Mr. Rausch’s jaw.
Mr. Rausch rocked back on his heels, taken completely off guard. He had enough time to lift a hand in defense—but not recover his balance—when Trevor hit him again. This time, the man went down in the dirt.
Mellie rushed forward, grabbing Trevor’s arm as she tried to pull him back. “What are you doing?” she cried. She could feel the fury in the man, felt it vibrating as he stood over Mr. Rausch.
“Name your seconds,” he growled.
“What?” Mellie cried. “You are not going to fight another duel!”
Trevor turned to look at her. “He offered you carte blanche,” he said as if that explained everything.
“Yes. So?” she pressed. “He offered it to me, not you. Damnation Trevor, how can you just punch a man like that?”
“He offered youcarteblanche,” he repeated.
“I know! And you have offered me nothing. So forgive me if I find his offer appealing.”
“Mellie!” he cried. “I came here to propose, and I find him offering you—”
“Yes, yes,” she interrupted. “But…what?”
He turned to face her more fully, though he clearly kept an eye on Mr. Rausch. “I had to get a special license. I had to make sure the money was there to support us.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Mellie, we need to get married.”
She looked at him. She’d been caught off guard—by his punch and by his proposal—so she hadn’t thrown herself into his arms. And now she stopped to take a breath. Now she waited for him to complete his proposal. And she waited.
And waited.
Until he frowned. “Mellie?”
Good Lord, did he think he’d just proposed? She wasn’t expecting Ronnie’s effusive poetry, but he had to know that she wanted more than: we need to get married.
“Why?” she asked.
He gaped at her. Then his gaze dropped significantly to her belly. “You know why.”
Oh. He was afraid she was pregnant. That was it. That was the reason he was here before her, special license in hand. Then she looked at Mr. Rausch who was just now pushing to his feet, his jaw swelling and his eyes narrowed. But he didn’t seem like he was about to attack. Instead, he was watching them closely.
“Do I understand this correctly?” she asked, her voice tart as she turned to both men. “You, Mr. Rausch, are offering me the world in exchange for my formula, assuming I become your mistress—”
“Mellie!” Trevor hissed. “People are coming.”
Of course they were. And she didn’t give a damn. “And you, Mr. Anaedsley, are proposing marriage because you feel an obligation, and a duel because Mr. Rausch just insulted your possible fiancée?”
Mr. Rausch arched a brow at her phrasing, but he did nod his agreement. Trevor, on the other hand, took a threatening step toward the man.
“He was offeringcarteblanche.”
Well, there it was. Her choices lay before her and not a word about love. She’d thought Ronnie ridiculous, but now she saw he had the right of it. Love was a great deal more important to her than she’d at first guessed. But in the absence of love, she would take…either of these two idiots and then make the best of it.
“Fine,” she said coldly. Loudly, even, as she heard the rustle of people around them. They were staying just out of sight, but she knew they were there. “Name your weapon, Mr. Rausch, but let’s make this a bit more exciting, shall we? The winner gets me.”
Both men turned to stare at her. “What?” gasped one. She didn’t really care who.
“I am done with this Season, the dancing, and the courtship. That is all nonsense anyway. I will go with the winner. No matter whom.”
They stared at her, stunned that she was calling their bluff. Did they not think that women could descend to their level? If they hinged their sacred honor upon a duel, then why not a woman? She could be an honorable, unloved wife with Trevor or a dishonorable, unloved mistress with Mr. Rausch.
“Mellie,” Trevor said, his voice hushed, and then another man came forward.