“Oh. Your pardon, sir.” Shane inclined his head to the chevalier. “This is not my language.”
This explanation did not seem to mollify the man at all. “Understand this, then! I am calling you out!”
Marguerite was not an expert in fighting men, but could not see this ending well for the chevalier.
The man was at least twenty years older than Shane and two-thirds his weight, if that. He was very tall and could look down on the paladin, which possibly had led him to over-estimate his chances, but Marguerite was guessing that Sir Lawrence had found courage in the bottom of a bottle.
“What seems to be the problem?” Marguerite asked. “This man is in my employ, and if he has offended, I wish to know how!”
Sir Lawrence drew himself up to his full height. “He cruelly rejected my lady’s offer to dance, and then had the nerve to slander her character!”
“I didn’t offer,” mumbled the horribly embarrassed woman somewhere behind Marguerite. “I just said it might be nice to dance and then you said you would find me a partner and then you grabbed that man and I don’t even want to dance now…”
Marguerite’s heart bled for the poor girl, who had clearly been caught up in some misguided and possibly drunken chivalry on the part of Sir Lawrence.
“What man would speak of a lady so?” thundered the chevalier, drowning out the girl’s explanations.
“He grabbed you, I take it?” Marguerite murmured to Shane.
“Yes. I shook him off. He shouted something in Dailian and kept pointing to the girl and he was talking so fast that I couldn’t understand a word. It sounded like he was accusing me of something, so I kept shaking my head and saying no, I had never touched her.”
Marguerite sighed. She could see how it had all fallen into chaos. “He was telling you to dance with the girl over there.”
“That is not what it sounded like.”
“Enough talk! I will not allow this insult against my lady to stand!” Sir Lawrence drew himself up to his full height, one bony hand settling over his sword hilt. “I challenge you to a duel!”
“No,” said Shane.
There was a long pause. The chevalier was obviously thrown off stride. “What do you mean, no?”
“I will not fight you.”
“But you will!”
“No.” Shane gazed over the man’s shoulder, his face impassive.
“Do you refuse to meet me, then?” The chevalier’s lip curled. “Are you a coward?”
Marguerite had to translate that last word. Shane’s expression did not change to any significant degree. “Sure,” he said.
“What kind of man are you?” blustered Lawrence.
“One who does not fight duels.”
“That is no kind of man.”
“All right.” Shane seemed unconcerned by this.
“Have you no care for your reputation?”
“Not…muchly? No.” He murmured a quick question to Marguerite, who supplied the word. “Not particularly.”
The chevalier was clearly taken aback by this. “You will fight me, sir!”
“Will I?” Shane finally looked back to the chevalier. “Do you fight to first blood here?”
“For a matter of courtesy, most certainly.” The man swept his arm toward the girl, who was trying to slink away. “Duels to the death are reserved for a matter of honor.”
Shane listened to Marguerite translate the details on that, then nodded. “First blood, then?”
“So I have said.”
Shane moved so quickly that Marguerite saw only a blur. The chevalier yelped and slapped his hand to the side of his head. Shane turned and carefully set a small object down on one of the little drinks tables scattered along the wall.
It was an earring. It was still snapped closed. Marguerite winced.
“You barbarian!” hissed the chevalier. Blood was leaking between his fingers, staining the fabric of his cuffs. The gathered crowd gasped excitedly.
“You will want to get that fix. Fixed? Fixed, yes,” said Shane. “Ears always bleed…muchly?”
And then he went back to staring over the man’s shoulder.
“I…you…” The man grabbed for his sword, which was peace bonded into the scabbard. “You dare!”
“Was that not what was meant?”
Marguerite decided it was time to intervene, before Shane ripped another earring off of the man’s head. “Sir Lawrence, I will thank you to stop badgering my bodyguard. This is clearly a misunderstanding.”
“A lady’s reputation is at stake!” the chevalier snarled, although this was deprived of some of its impact by the fall of lace across his face as he clutched his ear.
“The lady has left,” said Marguerite. She stepped forward. Shane made a small disapproving noise and started to move after her, but she waved him back, annoyed. “Sir Lawrence,” she said in an undertone, “no one can doubt that your heart was in the right place, but my bodyguard is more muscle than sense. He only barely speaks your language and had no idea what you were asking. He meant no insult to the lady.”
“Nevertheless—”
“It would be beneath you to meet such a man on the field of honor,” she said. “You spoke correctly when you said that he was a barbarian. He’s from the northwest. Far northwest.” She leaned in. “I found him wrestling ice-bears in the pit for spare change. He’s got certain talents, but no comprehension of civilized honor whatsoever.”
Sir Lawrence’s gaze flicked from Shane back to Marguerite. Between the earring and the hypothetical ice-bears, he seemed to deflate slightly. “I have no concern for my honor,” he said coldly, “but the lady’s.”
“I promise that I shall seek her out immediately and make amends for any insult that was given.
He did not understand that you were only seeking a dance partner for her.”
“Mmm.” Sir Lawrence, clearly aware of the watching crowd, took the out that Marguerite offered.
“I question your judgement bringing such a creature here, madam.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” said Marguerite, with a sigh. “Thank you for your mercy, Sir Lawrence.” She curtsied deeply to him, rather more deeply than was required for his relatively low rank. “I am grateful for your forbearance. As he will be, once I explain it to him.”
Sir Lawrence sniffed haughtily and let his hand drop from the sword hilt. “Very well. See that it does not happen again.” He turned and stalked away, like a disgruntled wading bird. The crowd began to disperse, clearly disappointed in the lack of further bloodshed.
“I caught something about bears,” said Shane. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.” Marguerite shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before you cause another diplomatic incident.”
They made their way toward the ballroom doors, pausing just long enough for Marguerite to get the name of the young lady who had been so dreadfully embarrassed. Unfortunately, word of the incident had clearly spread at lightning speed. Quizzing glasses were in favor this year, and so many people were peering through them that Marguerite felt as if she was moving through a sea of grotesquely magnified eyeballs.