The Chatsworth Affair

The Chatsworth Affair

The fog lazily lifted with the morning sun revealing the open field and two men standing in a classic dueler's pose, back to back.

"You are a cur!" Chatsworth spoke sotto voce so that no one but Reginald could hear his epithet.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A simple apology for splashing me with your wagon and we wouldn't be here at this ridiculous hour!" Chatsworth could feel his face flush at the thought of the insult. Without honor, there is nothing! It was a creed that had been drummed into him since birth.

"Sir," Reginald started, "it was not a 'wagon' – it was a coach. And had you not been sashaying down the street like a drunken fop, you would not have been soiled!"

It was too much. Chatsworth shoved with his posterior, sending Reginald stumbling. A snicker arose from the seconds and the small crowd of curiosity seekers gathered to witness the spectacle.

"Bad form!"

The tone of Reginald's voice was ... Is he laughing?

Resuming his position, Reginald paused for just a moment and then returned the bump, causing Chatsworth to teeter.

Within moments, they were shoving and pushing, amidst a roar of laughter from the onlookers until, finally, the two men sat side by side on the ground, panting heavily.

It was then that Chatsworth noticed Reginald. Pouty lips the color of apples, warm brown eyes ... I say!

"Perhaps I did get a bit carried away with all this," Chatsworth began.

Reginald's eyebrows raised in a questioning look.

Standing, Chatsworth offered a hand to Reginald. Grasping the proffered help, Reginald was momentarily distracted. My, what soft hands.

"Enough of this foolishness," Chatsworth announced and walked over to the duel master, handing over the pistol he had been holding.

"Reginald, can we discuss this over a glass of port? My apartment is nearby. I'm sure we can find a mutual ... accommodation, shall we say ... for our differences."

The warm smile and twinkle in Reginald's eye was answer enough.

Notes

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Ken