Daughter of Darkness by Janet Woods

dialect with pleasurable nostalgia.
    ‘It ‘aint the first time lights be seen up at the house. Some say it’s Lady Rosamond’s ghost walking abroad.’
    ‘It weren’t right her dying alone in that big house.’
    The drowsiness left his eyes. Daphne’s grandmother was dead too? A pity. He’d liked the old lady.
    ‘Baines said he saw a coach go in through the gates the other night. It was glowing all over, and an unholy wailing was coming from inside. The rain was hissing down that night and the road were mucky. He swears there were no tracks to mark the passing of it.’
    ‘He must have been at the slops.’
    Both men laughed, then one of them said loudly. ‘I hears tell the regiment is leaving these parts come spring. Our womenfolk will be able to venture out in safety then.’
    One of the officers jumped to his feet and raised his tankard on high. ‘No offence, but most of the women round here aren’t worth pursuing on a dark night. Those who are, queue up at the barracks gate.’
    ‘That’s not what we hear,’ one of the locals shouted. ‘It’s said that an officer of your regiment was sent packing by a certain young wife of an absent viscount. He escaped with his breeches round his ankles and his face slashed from top to bottom.’ Raucous laughter followed this broadside.
    Gerard’s eyes snapped open. Tension crept into his limbs as one of officers lumbered drunkenly to his feet and hauled himself on to the table. A newly healed scar adorned his face. ‘I was ambushed by the woman’s brother-in-law,’ he sneered. ‘Lady Sommersley was willing enough. In fact she was more than willing with her husband away.’ The soldier drew his sword from its scabbard and slashed at the smoke-thickened air above his head. ‘Any who want to argue the fact can answer to Hugh MacBride personally.’
    His companions shifted awkwardly as he gazed belligerently around him. What had started as good-natured fun had suddenly got out of hand. One of the other men stood up to place a restraining hand on the man’s arm. ‘Come down from there, Hugh. Your tongue is loosened with rum and you discredit your uniform.’
    ‘Well!’ he roared, taking one last belligerent look around. ‘Any takers amongst you country scum?’
    ‘I’ll champion the lady.’ Gerard’s voice was icy enough to send a chill through the blood of most of the people present.
    ‘And who the hell are you, sir?’
    ‘The lady’s husband.’ Rising to his feet he strode across the room, his rage a palpable thing. Ignoring the saber, he bunched the man’s uniform jacket in his fist and dragged him from his perch. ‘You’ re too drunk to deal with now, sir. I suggest your companions sober you up by dawn. We’ll meet in the meadow at the back of the inn.’
    Hugh MacBride paled as his fingers touched the scar on his face. ‘I spoke only in jest, sir. Lady Sommersley would have defended herself until death to protect -’
    ‘Enough!’ he snarled. ‘Do not mention My Lady with your foul breath. That you’ve chosen to make advances to her is reason enough for me to challenge you. The fact that you’ve insulted her name and mine in a public house is reason enough to kill you. Name your weapon. I have dueling pistols in my pack.’
    ‘Swords,’ Hugh MacBride said sullenly, choosing a weapon he’d had plenty of practice with.’
    ‘I’ll act as your second, My Lord.’ The officer who’d protested detached himself from his fellows and stood at Gerard’s side. His sense of fair play had been offended by the choice of weapons. ‘You may borrow my saber. If need be, I can instruct you on its use.’
    ‘Your name, sir?’
    ‘Captain Anthony Dowling at your service, My Lord.’
    Gerard looked into the man’s face and wanted to grin. He could probably teach this officer a thing or two about swordsmanship. He nodded his head. ‘My thanks.’
    From the moment he looked into the hard, grey depths of his protagonist’s eyes, Hugh knew his life