The Wolf of Dorian Gray - A Werewolf Spawned by the Evil of Man

Chapter 16 - The Duel Part 1

On one occasion in the early springtime, Dorian was riding through the country near Trouville with his young friend Lord Crawley. Lord Crawley was very tall, with dark features including short black hair and a thin mustache. He was dressed splendidly in a silk hunting shirt and tight, leather riding trousers. He was riding a fierce-looking, white Kochlaini Arabian horse. To Dorian he was a like-minded gentleman, with a large fortune and obscure desires—quickly resulting in the two becoming fast friends.

Dorian was riding a haughty, charcoal-black Godolphin Barb horse and was dressed in a similar fashion. His look however, was a stark contrast with a clean-shaven face. His longer, unruly blonde hair moved freely in the wind as the two rode together. They were discussing Lord Crawley's favorite topic—female conquests and the details surrounding them.

Lord Crawley expertly raised his leather reins and slightly bent his knees in the stirrups as he prepared for the jump over a large oak tree that had fallen to the ground. "She was insatiable, you see. She couldn't get enough of me. I was exhausted from taking her to my bed two, three times a day—or would have if not for my daily exercise regime, of course." He paused as they approached the obstacle.

The pair increased their mounts' pace to a canter and leaned forward. They lifted their bodies off the leather of the forward seat saddles. The two thoroughbreds easily cleared the downed tree with leaps that landed cleanly and left plenty of room to spare.

"Well, it's not in the quantity but in the quality, my good man."

"Ha! You are one to speak of quantity. I have seen the procession of young ladies that grace your bedchamber. But this church bell had quality all right! A right bushel bubby that one was. She is a classic red-head with tiny pink nipples set atop gloriously perky breasts. They saluted whenever I entered the room. She has a tiny waist and long, slender legs. And what a nancy that one had." He smacked the behind of his horse with his riding crop to underscore the final point.

"At any rate, I do hope you were able to prolong your time in the commodity this time by using the techniques we discussed."

"Oh, yes. We would knock for hours. One time I gave the girl a green gown on the lawn of her father's estate."

"Smashing! But have you had occasion to—," Dorian cut off as they came upon two gentleman along the roadway who were also mounted. They were well-equipped, though on lesser brown-Cob horseflesh.

Dorian was quite startled to see that the riders were none other than Lord Donohoe and his lesser-known brother. Lord Donohoe was dressed plainly in simple brown riding trousers and a matching coat. His greying hair was cut smartly in the military style. A door-knocker beard and mustache adorned his face. His brother attired himself in a comparable manner. All four of the horses slowed to a walk as they approached, with Dorian reigning up when they were a few meters away.

Dorian called out a greeting. "Good afternoon Lord Donohoe. I was unaware that you had a residence in Trouville."

"There are many things you mistakenly think me unaware of—you cussed bedswerver!" With that insult, Lord Donohoe removed his riding glove and threw it to the ground before bellowing his challenge to Dorian. "I demand satisfaction for what you have done to my daughter!"

Dorian's reply was smooth and in blatant disregard for the challenge to duel that was just laid before him. "My dear man, I believe there has been some case of mistaken identity. I do not even know your daughter."

"Liar! Scoundrel! I know what you have done to her, corrupting her mind and body. It is by your hand that she has become nothing more than a common dollymop."

"Take care with your insults sir. I assure you, I have nothing to do with your daughter's poor choices in life. I will not tolerate your slander any further."

"Then you will face me today on the field of honor and pistols will decide the truth of it!"

Dorian saw that Lord Donohoe was resolute in his challenge. He took stock of the older man's frail stature and the slight shaking of his pointing hand.

He sighed and lifted his hands in a gesture of compliance. "Very well. If you insist on this course we will play it out. But let it be known that I attempted to move you from it." With that, Dorian swiftly dismounted in a fluid motion and beckoned to his friend. "Lord Crawley will act as my second, as I am sure your brother will act as yours. Since you have determined the choice of weapons and the time of the duel, I will determine the ground and the form to be followed."

Dorian gestured towards a small clearing behind the group. "We will meet in the small field behind you and begin back-to-back. Following ten paces on my count, we will both turn and shoot. Are these terms acceptable to you sir?"

Lord Donohoe and his brother dismounted in response. They moved briskly to the prescribed field and the seconds began to inspect the pistols that Lord Donohoe produced from a cherry wood case, carried on his saddlebag. The selected weapons were brown-barrel, octagonal sighted, Percussion 14 bore pistols. They could be loaded with only one lead ball at a time.

Lord Crawley picked up the weapons and checked the firing mechanism on each one. "They are balanced and level, Dorian. They appear adequate and should produce a straight shot."

Dorian liked his chances in this contest, for he was no stranger to firearms and was an accomplished marksman. He regularly hit his target when shooting at cans or stuffed animals on the firing range and he had brought down many a stag and quail while hunting. His opponent was nearly two decades his senior and of questionable health. However, he had never before killed a man with a firearm. At that moment, Lord Donohoe began a coughing fit as he was preparing himself. Dorian smiled and offered his handkerchief, which was harshly refused. He confidently selected his weapon and assumed his position. There was always a chance that both combatants would miss. Then the matter would be concluded without bloodshed. When Lord Donohoe finally regained his breath, he approached with the second pistol in his hand and the two stood back-to-back.