Page 98 of The Untamed Duke
Alan took the piece of cloth, swiped the blood away and reconsidered how he might break up a fight between his two best friends. “If only Gabriel Rose were here to assist,” he muttered, referring to Sebastian’s unorthodox man of affairs, “I’m sure between the two of us, we could end this madness.”
The brawl continued, grunts of pain punctuating the noise of the ballroom as guests crowded closer. Some murmured this was years in the making. It was only a surprise it took this long in exploding. And speculation escalated as to what set the brawl off.
“I told you, if you so much as touched her, I would kill you,” Sebastian panted at one point, glaring at Nicholas from an eye still relatively unswollen. He winced slightly, rotating the shoulder he’d suffered a gunshot wound in months before.
“And I told you,” Nicholas spit out, wiping blood from a cut on his cheek with the back of his hand, “you should heed your wife’s advice and let it be. Grace made her decision. She loves me, and I love her.”
“Love? Love?” Sebastian sneered. “Do you love her as you loved Marilee? Or will Grace find herself as ruined as that girl? Dead because of your actions.”
“You don’t know what you are talking about. And if you ever lay a hand on Grace again, I swear by all that is holy, I will tear you apart. You goddamn bastard. Do you have any idea—”
Before Nicholas finished the sentence, Sebastian swung a fist, injured shoulder forgotten, connecting with his jaw and setting off the fight once more. For several more moments, they tussled, while Grace, Ivy, and Sara embraced one another, recognizing there was little sense in attempting to stop the violence. It needed to play itself out before a rational discussion could take place. Other guests now understood Grace was at the center of the quarrel. Somehow, she was the catalyst. Word spread like wildfire through the ballroom. The Duke of Richefort was in love with Lady Grace Willsdown. Yes. Lady Grace Willsdown. The Cornwall Storm. Impossible. But true.
“Boys!”
The female voice struck like a whiplash. Soft, genteel. But a whiplash, nonetheless.
All eyes turned toward the source. Incredibly, Nicholas and Sebastian ceased trading blows, their fists lowering. Tristan rushed in, grabbing hold of Nicholas’s arms while Alan did the same with Sebastian. Both men heaved like hounds after a fox hunt. They were bloodied and bruised, elegant evening clothes hanging awry, cravats ripped, hair tousled. A pair of diamond cufflinks lay scattered on the gleaming wood floor. Ivy scooped them up.
“As usual, there’s never a dull moment when you three get together.” Brianna March, the Dowager Duchess of Richeforte, said sternly from a circle of glittering and elegantly dressed guests. She was quite beautiful, tall, and graceful, with a head full of dark gold, grey-streaked hair, and mossy green eyes.
She smoothed a hand over the stomach of her exquisite, dark maroon ballgown, a network of black jets across the bodice glittering in the gaslights of the chandeliers and said, “Now. We shall take this someplace a bit more private and discuss in a rational manner why you are trying to kill one another in the midst of Lord and Lady Bentley’s coming home ball. I’d also like to know why my son did not inform me he has chosen Lady Grace as his duchess.”
Chapter 40
Sins of the past
Wiped clean
Fresh start
Fresh day
With Grace
For Grace
Because of Grace
I am free.
~Nicholas August Harris March
Ninth Duke of Richeforte
“Let go,”Nicholas snarled at Tristan, trying to snatch his arm from the other man’s grasp. But Tristan held tight, and as others chattered around them, he spoke for Nicholas’s benefit only.
“Is it true?” His eyes searched Nicholas’s. “Do you love her? Or is this a game to you? Is she just another conquest?”
Nicholas’s laugh was a bark of disbelief. “Does this look like a game? Of course, I love her. I’m insanely in love with her. Now, let me go before I break your arm. I must see to her. She looks as though she may faint.”
Tristan glanced at Grace, then smiled, a bit sadly, but a smile nonetheless. It was evident at that moment he was releasing his love for Grace Willsdown, conceding victory to the man she’d chosen. Stepping back from Nicholas, he executed a slight bow. “A word of advice, if I may. That girl has never fainted before in her life.” A moment of hesitation, then Tristan said, very softly, “Take very good care of her, Nick. For all her strength, she’s as fragile as silk.”
Nicholas nodded at the man who stayed his friend when all others had abandoned him. Reaching out, he impulsively shook Tristan’s hand, squeezing it tight until the viscount smiled in understanding.
Spinning on his heel, Nicholas quickly made his way to Grace, gathering her close with a deep breath. She trembled against him, her hands searching his body, assuring herself he was all right, despite his battered appearance.
“I told you it would be an ugly scene if Sebastian and I ever tried discussing our issues,” he laughed in her ear.
