Chapter 11: The Threat

The victory after the ball had been short-lived for Isabella and William. Though they had exposed Geoffrey Ashton’s treachery and the engagement had been officially broken, Isabella knew that Geoffrey’s wounded pride would drive him to desperate measures. The man she had once viewed as a mere suitor had turned into a dangerous enemy, and now the news of an impending duel filled her with dread.

She had been sitting quietly in the drawing room at Harrington Manor, the familiar scent of blooming flowers from the gardens wafting in through the open window, when Sir James burst in with hurried steps.

"Lady Isabella," he said, his voice low but urgent.

Isabella rose quickly, her heart thumping. "What is it, Sir James?"

"We’ve received word. Geoffrey is planning something drastic—he’s going to challenge William to a duel."

Isabella’s world seemed to tilt as the words sank in. Her breath caught in her throat. A duel—duels were deadly, reckless, and could easily lead to tragedy. She steadied herself on the back of a chair, her mind whirling with fear.

"A duel?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We have to stop it. William can’t... he can’t face Geoffrey. It’s too dangerous."

"I’ve already arranged for us to go to William’s mansion," Sir James replied. "I’ll take you to him. We must be swift."

Without another word, Isabella grabbed her shawl, her mind racing. She had never been to William’s mansion before. Though their secret meetings had brought them closer, this was a new step—one shadowed by the fear that it might be their last.

****

The carriage ride to William’s estate was tense. Sir James sat across from Isabella, his face serious and composed, though a faint tension lined his brow. Isabella, however, was consumed by her thoughts.

Geoffrey’s venomous words echoed in her mind—“You’ll wish it had been over.” He had been unraveling ever since the scandal, but it was Catherine’s defection that had truly left him isolated. Alone, humiliated, stripped of influence—of course he would lash out. A duel wasn’t just desperation; it was the only weapon left to a man who had lost everything else.

The sound of the horses’ hooves striking the cobblestone road echoed her rising anxiety.

Every moment that passed felt like a countdown to the duel. The idea of William facing Geoffrey with pistols—and of potentially losing him—made her stomach churn. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, the man who had stood by her through all the trials, the man who had fought for her and her happiness.

Her thoughts turned to the horrors of what could happen. She had heard tales of men who had been fatally wounded in duels, lives lost for the sake of honor. Would William’s life end because of Geoffrey’s bruised pride? She shuddered at the thought, clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders as though it could protect her from the terrifying reality.

As they neared William’s mansion, her fear deepened. She twisted the hem of her shawl until the threads frayed between her fingers. Her mind was spinning with worry—what if William didn’t survive? What if she lost him? The sheer possibility gnawed at her, threatening to consume her.

The carriage jolted.

Her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

What if he didn’t survive?

What if she arrived too late?

What if he lay there now—still, silent—never to speak her name again?

The thought landed like a blow. Her breath caught, the tide of dread rising—sharp and sudden.

Every jolt of the wheels seemed to echo one heartbeat too late. Too slow. Too far. Too long.

And still—no word. No certainty.

Only the what ifs, pressing down like a noose.

Sir James, noticing her distress, placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Lady Isabella, I know this is frightening, but William is strong, and we will do everything to ensure his safety."

Isabella nodded, though the reassurance did little to ease her heart.

****

When they arrived at William’s mansion, Isabella barely noticed the grandeur of the estate as she hurried through the door, led by Sir James. The familiar scent of parchment and leather from William’s study greeted them, but the comforting presence of William was what she sought most.

William stood at his desk, reviewing papers. His expression softened when he saw her enter, but the look of worry that crossed his face as he noticed her trembling hands did not escape her.

"Isabella?" he asked, his voice gentle but concerned. He crossed the room in quick strides, taking her hands in his. “Tell me—what has happened?”

“Sir James said... Geoffrey challenged you. To a duel.”

William’s jaw clenched for a moment before he nodded. "Yes. Geoffrey has challenged me. I expected this—he has nothing left to lose."

"Then don’t accept it!" Isabella’s voice broke as she gripped his hands tighter. "William, it’s too dangerous. I can’t bear the thought of you facing him. What if something happens to you? What if I lose you?"

William pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead as he whispered, "I understand your fears, Isabella. But I can’t back down. Geoffrey will not stop his threats until he’s been confronted. This is a matter of honor, but more than that, it’s about protecting our future. I must face him."

Her heart ached at his words. She understood the depth of his determination, but the thought of him standing across from Geoffrey with pistols aimed at each other terrified her to her core.

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, “Promise me, William. Promise me you’ll be careful. I couldn’t bear it. I wouldn’t survive it.”

William cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his thumb. His voice was soft but firm. "I promise, Isabella. I will do everything in my power to make sure we have the future we’ve dreamed of. I will not leave you."

She held on to him, her heart heavy with both love and fear. The knowledge that William would not back down made her feel helpless, yet his presence calmed the storm within her, even if only for a moment.

****

The day of the duel arrived far too quickly. Isabella had barely slept the night before, her mind consumed with images of what could happen. Though Sir James had urged her to remain behind at Harrington Manor, Isabella couldn’t bear the thought of sitting idly by while William’s life was at risk. She made up her mind to follow him to the duel, despite the dangers.

William and Sir James arrived at the secluded field on the outskirts of town just after dawn. The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a golden glow across the landscape. The tension in the air was palpable as they spotted Geoffrey and his second, a man of questionable reputation, waiting for them.

Geoffrey’s face was twisted with anger and desperation. "Crawford," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "This is the last time you’ll ever embarrass me. It all ends here."

William remained calm, his voice steady. "Your actions brought this upon yourself, Geoffrey. Let us end this and be done with it."

As Geoffrey took his position, his fingers brushed the grip of his pistol. For the briefest moment, Catherine’s voice—cool, final, unforgiving—echoed louder than the pistol in his hand. She had meant it. They all had. Her turning from him had been the true fracture. He clenched his jaw. Let them all regret it.

The seconds moved into position, pistols in hand. The quiet chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind were the only sounds as the men prepared for what was to come.

Isabella, hidden among the trees at the edge of the field, watched with her heart in her throat. She had defied Sir James’s orders to stay away, unable to keep herself from witnessing the moment that could change her life forever. She clutched the trunk of a tree for support, trembling from head to toe as she watched William and Geoffrey take their places.

A bird launched from a nearby branch, its sudden motion startling in the stillness. William stood motionless, his posture rigid, a statue of resolve.

It felt too much like goodbye.

Sir James raised his hand. "On the count of three, you will turn and fire. One… Two… Three!"

The crack of pistols firing echoed through the air. Time seemed to slow as Isabella’s world narrowed to the figures before her.

Geoffrey staggered. His hand clutched his side as blood seeped through his shirt, and he collapsed to the ground, his face contorted with pain. William stood tall, unscathed, though his expression was one of grim determination rather than triumph.

Isabella rushed forward, her fear for William overriding all sense of propriety. "William!" she cried, reaching his side, her voice trembling with relief and terror. "Are you hurt?"

William turned to her, his gaze softening. "I’m fine, Isabella. It’s over."

She threw her arms around him, her heart still racing. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you.”

William held her close, his voice steady. “It’s over now. We’re safe.”

Geoffrey lay on the ground, his breaths shallow, his eyes clouded with pain and something perilously close to regret. “Isabella,” he rasped, his voice weak. “I never wanted it to end this way… but my pride… I couldn’t let it go.”

Isabella knelt beside him, her heart heavy with a sorrow she had not expected. “It didn’t have to be this way, Geoffrey. You could have chosen a different path.”

His eyes flickered. “Maybe… but it’s too late now.”

She watched the regret flicker in his gaze and felt the ache of what could never be mended. Even remorse, however genuine, could not unmake the pain he had caused—or undo the cost of his choices.

He coughed, blood staining his lips as he turned his gaze to William. “Take care of her, Crawford. She deserves happiness.”

And perhaps, at the end, he finally meant it.

But she no longer needed his approval. She had already chosen who she would become.

William nodded solemnly. “I will.”

As Geoffrey’s second carried him away, Isabella remained by William’s side, her breathing uneven, the adrenaline still waning from her limbs. She leaned into him, eyes closed. The terror still lingered, a cold echo in her chest—but for now, she had no more words. Her silence was its own confession.

William held her tightly, his voice soft as he whispered, "It’s over, my love. We can finally move forward."

They returned to Harrington Manor together, knowing that the threat had passed and their future was finally theirs to claim. The shadow of Geoffrey Ashton had been lifted, and now they could embrace the future they had fought so hard to secure.

She had entered the season afraid to speak. Now she had shouted in the face of danger—and been heard.