It would be the fight of his life. A duel but not over a woman or an accusation of cheating at cards or even because some Pink of the Ton had cast aspersions upon the arrangement of his cravat. No, it was far more serious. The control of his fortune, his title, his estate, his very future was at stake. And he had no choice of weapons, was unarmed, unmanned, with only his twelve year old brother as his second. But he must face the challenge.
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Bile rose in his throat as he turned to confront his opponent.
“Hello, Mother.”
Image: Portrait of a Young Gentleman via flickr commons
