SUTTON KNOCKED THE BOTTLE FROM CELIA’S HAND and stepped in front of Ivy, the barrel of the gun pressing against his chest. “Go ahead. My life for hers.” They stood there in tableau for what seemed hours until Ivy slowly lowered the weapon. Tears ran down her cheeks. “That’s what I thought.” Sutton took the gun from her hand and studied it. “This belongs to Mr. Browning.” Stunned, Celia watched the contents of the medicine bottle soaking into the ground. Black spots danced before her eyes. She sank to her knees and felt Sutton’s arms go around her. “You’re all right, darling. Just keep breathing.” “I can’t believe she was going to shoot you.” “This weapon is a relic—an old dueling pistol. I doubt it would have fired even if Ivy had been brave enough to pull the trigger.” Now Celia recognized the weapon as one of the pair Papa kept on display in his study. Sutton kept one eye on Ivy, who had collapsed into a heap on the ground, her rose-colored gown billowing up around her.
