"Not that she would think killing Albert would be that bad an idea," said Denis. "You know how many times she has threatened to do it herself."
"I've threatened to kill men all my life, but I've never done it," said Mirari.
Denis arched an eyebrow at his cousin. There were family stories about her that said otherwise. Although he was sure that if she had killed someone it was not without justification.
"Besides the paperwork that we would have to fill out, it would be a pain, yes?" He smiled. "You did happen to mention to Mondemoiseau de Bergerac that dueling is illegal in the USE?"
Mirari rolled her eyes. "I did. But he doesn't care. And I've seen Cyrano fight. He's already good enough to cut Albert to shreds without breaking a sweat."
"In that case . . ." He put down his drawing tools. ". . . I think Betsy couldn't have gone more than a block or two."
"I'm glad you see it my way," she said.
"We would be doing Mondemoiseau de Bergerac a kindness. If Betsy gets a hold of him after he's killed Albert . . ." Denis broke off his speculation. "I think she wants to reserve that privilege for herself."
****
Betsy's mind was so filled with the play that she almost walked into danger.
"Look out!"
She snapped out of her reverie to see a large horse rear above her. She scrambled out of the way even as the horse's rider pulled tightly on the reins to keep the animal from bolting.
"What kind of nutcase-" She broke off muttering as she heard a small engine splutter across the street. She looked up at rider as he struggled to control his animal. Obviously the horse-and therefore the rider-was from out of town, since the local mounts were used to engine noise
Betsy eyed the rider with predatory interest. A stranger like him would be a good subject for her series of features profiling newcomers to Grantville.
Once he had his horse back under control, he dropped to the ground and faced Betsy.
"Pray forgive me!" he said. "I am most shamed that I almost caused such a lovely young woman as yourself harm. I am Charles de Largo."
Betsy swallowed the inclination to hold her hand to her heart and giggle. She would not behave like some kind of swooning damsel. "I'm Betsy Springer with the Grantville Times. You can make it up to me by agreeing to an interview. "
She felt a little like Lois Lane just meeting Superman for the first time and having the gumption to ask for an interview after being rescued. Largo's accent was slightly familiar. But she had never been as good as Denis with accents. He could identify where someone came from by their voice right down to a side of town. That was sheer spooky as far as she was concerned.
Charles de Largo started at the name of the paper and then stared at her for a moment. Betsy gave him her impression of her mother's "you're going to do this" stare before he could decline. Then she launched into her first question. "What brings you to town?"
"Actually, Mecklenburg was where I had intended to go," he said with his own nervous laugh.
"Oh? Are you a soldier?"
"I have more than a bit of experience in the army, yes. I thought I might be able to find employment there," he said. "Unfortunately, I got confused on directions about thirty miles outside of town and here I am." He spread his hands to indicate Grantville.
"You should have turned left at Albuquerque," she said with a smile at her small joke. She wasn't sure if she believed him or not, enlisting in the army was the excuse a lot of men used for coming to town.
A look of confusion ran over de Largo's face. "Your pardon, Mademoiselle; is this Albuquerque you speak of a town or a local landmark, perhaps?"
Betsy felt her checks run crimson as she sighed. Sometimes she missed having fellow movie geeks to talk to. Her humor was completely lost on everyone in this century. But she had to admit that de Largo was quite good looking, perhaps even someone she might like to get to know better. Despite this, her reporter's instincts were pinging like broken radar. Something seemed off with him.
"Betsy!"
At the sound of her name the young reporter turned to see Denis rushing toward her.
Denis slid to a stop and doubled over to catch his breath. "Betsy," he said between gasps for air. "We need to talk!"
Betsy smiled at de Largo. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." She turned to Denis and pulled him aside. "Can it wait? I'm about to interview this fellow for the paper."
Denis looked over her shoulder at de Largo. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Then he shook his head in dismissal before turning his attention back to Betsy. "Only if you want to miss your chance to see Albert being killed."
"What?" Betsy stiffened.
"Mirari said that Albert must have seen your business meeting last night. This morning he insulted Mondemoiseau de Bergerac over your honor and your playwright benefactor challenged him to a duel."
Out of the corner of her eye, Betsy noticed de Largo perk up at the name de Bergerac. But she couldn't spare more than a second to wonder why. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
"Well, at least he didn't say anything about Mondemoiseau de Bergerac's nose. That would take things from bad to impossible!"
Denis coughed and looked away.
"He didn't," Betsy slapped her hand to her forehead. "Great! Now what am I going to do? De Bergerac is famous for killing men who insult his nose! He'll obliterate Albert to satisfy his own honor, no matter what I say!"
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," de Largo said. "I couldn't help but overhear. You said Mondemoiseau de Bergerac, yes? Would that be Cyrano de Bergerac?"
"That's right," Denis said.
"Then perhaps I can be of some assistance," de Largo suggested. "Mondemoiseau de Bergerac is a fellow Frenchman. He will naturally want to observe the rules of engagement, so if he has not yet appointed a second for this duel, perhaps I can offer him my assistance."
"What did Albert do to offend you?" she asked.
"Nothing, but if I were to act as Mondemoiseau de Bergerac's second, then perhaps I can help you save the life of your lover. We may be able to control the outcome while still satisfying Mondemoiseau de Bergerac's bruised sense of honor. Would this Albert know enough to name his own second?"
"He's not my lover! And no he wouldn't." Betsy snorted. "He barely has the brain cells to tie his shoes. But your idea might work, if I can convince him to name me as his second. This is like a scheme right out of The Three Musketeers."
De Largo raised an eyebrow at her words. "Truthfully, I have never heard of a woman standing as second in a duel."
"You've never run into Betsy before, obviously," said Denis. "I think I should point out the fact that dueling is highly illegal. Everyone involved-or at least the survivors-could wind up in jail! I've been there; it's a place I prefer not to see the inside of again."
Betsy scoffed. "It's only illegal if it actually happens; talking about it isn't illegal! Neither is scaring the hell out of Albert in the process."
Denis sighed. He had a really bad feeling about this whole thing. He hoped it didn't come crashing down around them.
Betsy put a finger on her nose and pointed to de Largo. "No time to waste. I'll find . . . Albert. " She broke off to make a face. "You and Denis find Mondemoiseau de Bergerac. Once we get them to name us their seconds, let's all meet back at Mirari's shop to go over the rules of engagement."
"Just be careful around Albert," Denis said. "This is likely to give him the wrong idea about you."
"I'll burn that bridge when I get there," Betsy muttered as she set off in the direction of Albert's family home.
****
By the time that Betsy led Albert into Mirari's chocolate shop, Denis, Mirari, de Bergerac and de Largo already had seats around Mirari's personal table. The four of them had large pots of chocolate and steaming mugs set out before them. Denis thought that Albert looked, to borrow an uptime phrase, "as low as a snake's belly." No doubt Betsy had told him exactly what she thought of his behavior. As two of them sat at the table, Mondemoiseau de Bergerac scowled at Albert. Albert ducked his head and pretended to find fascination in the wood grain of the table.