"This has gone far enough," Ian commented. "What your motives were when you began..."
"My motives were and are still exactly the same."
Doyle Travener didn't look at Ian as he said it. His eyes remained on the duelling pistols his cousin was preparing.
"To defend Miss Darlington's honour," Ian said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.
"Of course. Someone must."
Despite the seriousness of his before dawn errand, Ian had had to fight not to laugh at the earnest rubbish with which Travener had answered his every objection. With each passing minute which brought them nearer to the hour of the proposed duel, however, he was losing his appreciation of the absurd.
"Miss Darlington has left London..." he began patiently.
"Driven out by those baying jackals and gossip mongers."
