Sebastian’s gaze narrowed on his own second. “I should start on you once I’ve finished with Hillary. Fighting like ladies. How am I to show my face at Brooks’s after today?”
The earl laughed. “Come now, ladies don’t fight. Besides, you’ve made a bigger fool of both of us in the past. Don’t you remember the time you bet me that you could knock the apple from my head?”
“That was your idea.”
“Well, you got us in trouble for stealing the vicar’s wife’s bonnet and dressing their cow in it.”
“It looked better on the cow.” Sebastian laughed too. “We were lads. You cannot hold the mistakes of my youth against me.”
“And the time you challenged me to a drinking contest? That was only a year ago.”
Sebastian waved his hand. “Oh, do stop prattling on. I have a duel to win.”
The gentlemen who had come to gawk cheered as Sebastian squared off with Hillary. No doubt they had already placed their bets. His actions often inspired others to gamble, even if they sometimes bet against him.
Sebastian’s steely glare bore into the man who had abandoned and humiliated his sister. His lip curled as he swept his gaze from Hillary’s head to his toes. This piece of rubbish made Eve cry, and he was going to pay.
Ellis stood between them, one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and the other on Hillary’s. “Jake and I negotiated the terms late last night. Each man will exchange blows in turn until one of you surrenders. If Ben yields, Thorne will have successfully defended his sister’s reputation and the matter will be put to rest.”
A muscle in Hillary’s jaw twitched, but he held Sebastian’s gaze.
“It has been decided Thorne, as the challenger, will be allowed the first strike.”
One side of Sebastian’s mouth kicked up. And he would make the first blow count.
“No fists, elbows, head-butting, kicking, or otherwise,” Ellis added. “Leather only.”
Sebastian’s smirk became a scowl. Blasted sisters.
Jake Hillary stepped forward with the wooden box and flicked the lid open. A single pair of black leather gloves lay on the blue silk where dueling pistols should have been.
Sebastian grabbed one of the gloves. With a resigned sigh, Hillary took the other and frowned at his brother. Jake lifted one brow and Hillary sighed again.
Turning his back on his opponent, Sebastian marched to a section of the field where he’d seen pebbles and scooped a handful.
“What are you doing, Thorne?” Ellis asked.
He dropped the pebbles into the glove and smirked. “My sister said no hands.”
Several of the men who had come to watch laughed, and new wagers began to travel around the group.
Hillary joined Sebastian and knelt to snatch some pebbles too. “I won’t be unevenly matched.”
“You already are,” Lord Corby called. “Thorne has outwitted you.”
Hillary glared at Sebastian as he tested the weight of his glove. When they were both satisfied, they squared off. Their seconds moved to a safe distance and declared the match active.
Sebastian jiggled the glove to get a good feel, adjusted his stance to distribute his weight accordingly, then raised his arm above his head and swung down hard and fast. There was a brief swish followed by a thud so loud it disturbed a covey of quail several yards away. They flew into the air amid frantic beating of wings and alarmed calls.
A welt appeared on Hillary’s cheek. He gingerly probed the area and hissed through his teeth. His eyes hardened as he anticipated his turn.
Sebastian braced himself, but nothing prepared him for the surprising bite of the leather. The crowd winced on his behalf. Half his face felt on fire. Even his eye stung and began to water. But the pain only made him more determined to make his next hit more devastating.
This time when the glove whacked Hillary’s cheek in the same spot, his opponent growled. A few gentlemen cheered.
The other half shouted for Hillary as he delivered another blow.
“Stop hitting like a lady,” Ellis goaded Sebastian.
He swung his head toward his second, tempted to tell him he’d seen a lady take down a man not long ago and not to underestimate them. Instead, he told him to bugger off.