The barest hint of rosy dawn had just crested the tree line. Gideon paced in loose circles around his carriage, ignoring his second who kept checking his pocket watch. "He'll be here. Gareth Belmain will be fashionably late for his own funeral."

A dozen or so soberly clad onlookers chuckled and chatted in hushed voices. The black clad surgeon who'd been dragged along to tend any wounds grunted impatiently. "We can't linger here long. The watch could come by. This park won't be deserted forever."

Gideon scowled at the man. "He'll be here."

"He is here."

The milling gentlemen stopped, and Gideon followed his second's careless wave. What he saw made his breath catch and his lips twitch. Gareth, in imitable style, picked his way over the grass, a servant followed with a weapons case, and an impatient frowning gentleman urged him to hurry.

The two stopped in the center of the clearing and Gideon grabbed Davison's arm. "See if he's willing to apologize."

Davison nodded. "I know my duty, Gideon. If he refuses, try not to injure him too badly. He's a little bit of a thing, isn't he? People will talk, say it wasn't a fair fight."

"Just do your best to talk him out of it."

Davison made haste across the damp morning grass to the little trio in the middle of the field. Gideon watched intently, trying to gauge his success through Gareth's rapidly changing expressions. A sudden stillness came over the man. Davison must have made a telling point. Gareth nodded shortly and strolled across the field to Gideon's side.

Gideon never dropped his gaze, held Gareth's intent stare as he approached. The muted noise of the observed dropped off to intent silence. They were the cynosure of all eyes, and yet Gideon trusted that Gareth wouldn't give them away. There was nothing but confidence in his demeanor, no hint of the passion that flared between them so easily, nothing of the feelings that caused his heart to ache with loneliness when Gareth wasn't around.

Gideon knew that this was what Gareth had been trying to tell them. That they could be friends in front of the ton, and lovers when society wasn't watching.

"Sir. I wish to apologize for the aspersion I cast upon your honor last night. I offer no excuse for my actions, except that I was a bit the worse for wear and bored out of my mind. Please accept my humble apology."

Gareth held out a steady hand, and murmuring something incoherent, but hopefully accepting, Gideon took it. He bowed low over the proffered hand, giving just the slightest squeeze, before rising and meeting clear blue eyes.

"On further recollection, I do recall that you were correct. I did indeed lie to you in the past. I beg you to forgive my youthful calumny."

"Done. We shall cry friends then?"

"Friends." They embraced swiftly as the throng of watchers dispersed with disappointed mutters.

Their second stood off to the side, letting them arrange things between themselves no doubt. "I read your letter."

"You still deserve to hear it."

"I will. Somewhere more private than a public park. Somewhere I can show you what it means to me."

"Thank you."

"For being so incredibly forgiving and understanding?"

"For resolving this without forcing me to shed your blood." He crooked his arm, and Gareth looped his own through it as they were wont to do when they were youths, and strolled after their retreating seconds.

"A gentleman never holds a grudge. Besides, your letter quite melted my determination to prove that the clothes do not make the man."

"What are you saying, Gareth?"

"I'm saying that fencing is a sport in which my smaller size and greater dexterity gives me the advantage. I was going to make you sweat for it."