In England, dueling was part of a long-standing code of honor, far
beyond a mere tradition. Gentlemen took their dueling very seriously;
they would rather die than be dishonored. Does your
heart go pitter patter just at the sound of that? Mine sure does. How
many man that honorable do you know? Okay, maybe we'd call it misplaced
pride or an overdeveloped sense of vengeance, but hey, that was a different world with a different set of
rules.

By the Regency Era, dueling was outlawed.
However, duels still happened more frequently than many people knew. The
problem was, because courts were made up of peers, they were reluctant
to charge another peer with murder as a result of a duel. There is a
case where one nobleman was charged with murder and tried, but used the
defense that his behavior was gentlemanly and honorable, meaning that he
acted within the proper code of conduct. He was acquitted by his peers.
If the duelists were socially equal, or at least
similar, the gentleman who was offended would tell the man who’d wronged
him that he should choose his “second,” a close friend or family member
who would look out for his best interests. If he was really incensed,
he might slap him with his glove, but that was considered extreme and
beneath gentlemanly behavior, as it was the ultimate insult and probably
resulted in a fight then and there.
The procedure for issuing a challenge was very
specific. A gentleman never challenged a social inferior. For instance, a
gentleman of significance with ties to the aristocracy or nobility
would never challenge a commoner, such as a blacksmith or a farmer.
Also, if there was a significant age difference, the duel would not be
extended.
After the verbal
challenge – or perhaps warning would be a better word – was issued,
depending on the severity of the offense, the other might have a choice;
he could either apologize, or he could accept. Sometimes, the apology
would not be accepted, often if there were a third person who’d been
wronged such as a lady's honor. (Okay, call me crazy but that almost makes me want to swoon.)
The next day, supposedly after heads had
cooled, the wronged man who wished to duel would send his “second” with a
written letter challenging the duel. The other may chose to apologize
or accept the challenge. If accepted, he would choose swords or pistols
and name the time and the place.
When the allotted day
arrived, they met, probably in a remote place where they wouldn’t be
caught by the law, and the seconds inspected the weapons to be used. A
final opportunity for an apology could be given. If not, the seconds
decided if the duel should be fought to (a) first blood, or (b) until
one can no longer stand, or (c) to the death. Once that was decided, the
opponents dueled and the seconds watched to insure that nothing
dishonorable happened.
If one of the duelers becomes
too injured to continue, occasionally the second would step in and duel.
Sometimes, the seconds were hot-headed and ended up dueling each other
as well.
As
horrible as it sounds to our modern selves, these gentlemen took their
honor very seriously, and considered death preferable to living with the
label of a coward, a label that would follow them and their families
for years.
And, maybe it’s me, but there a certain
romance about a gentleman brave enough and protective enough to be
willing to risk death defending my honor from another man who’d
besmirched it.
A duel is what leads to all the trouble
for my hero in my newest book "
The Stranger She Married" and causes
events he wishes desperately he could change, especially when the duel
goes awry and causes pain to an entire family.
I'm sure glad my husband isn't likely to try it...