He caught her in his arms, drawing her gently to the couch.
"Dear heart, you never doubted I should come?"
"I thought you in France!" she sobbed, and sank down amongst the cushions.
Tracy had recovered from the first shock of surprise and was eyeing him though his quizzing glass.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, my lord," he drawled with easy insolence.
Diana started at the mode of address and looked up at Carstares, bewildered.
"I perceive your sword in the corner behind you, your Grace!" snapped Jack, and flung over to the door, twisting the key round in the lock and slipping it into his breeches pocket.
To Diana he was as a stranger, with no laugh in the glittering blue eyes, and none of the almost finicking politeness that usually characterised his bearing. He was very white, with lips set in a hard straight line, and his nostrils slightly expanded.
"My dear Carstares, why should I fight you?" he inquired, seemingly not in the least annoyed by the other's intrusion.
"I had anticipated that answer, your Grace. So I brought _this_!"
As he spoke Jack drove the sword he held into the wood floor, where it stayed, quivering.
Nonchalantly Tracy took it in his hand and glanced at the hilt.
His fingers tightened on it convulsively, and he shot a piercing glance at Jack.
"I am entirely at your service," he said very smoothly, and laid the sword on the table.
Some of the glare died out of my lord's eyes, and a little triumphant smile curved the corners of his mouth. Quickly he divested himself of his fine velvet coat, his waistcoat and his scabbard, and pulled off the heavy riding boots, caked with mud. He proceeded to tuck up his ruffles, awaiting his Grace's convenience.
As one in a dream, Diana saw the table pushed back, the paces measured, and heard the ring of steel against steel.
My lord opened the attack after a few moments' cautious circling, lunging swiftly and recovering, even as the Duke countered and delivered a lightning _riposte en quinte_. My lord parried gracefully in tierce, and chuckled softly to himself.
With parted lips and wide eyes, the girl on the couch watched each fresh lunge. A dozen times it seemed as though Carstares must be run through, but each time, by some miraculous means, he regained his opposition, and the Duke's blade met steel.