Page 50 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“Calm yourself,” Alexander scolded. “Control your tempers, both of you, or you shall both find yourselves barred.”
“Do not involve yourself in this, Your Grace!” The brother of Lord Banbury called out.
Lord Mortimer was already fighting to get back to him. Alexander elbowed past him but the older gentleman was fired up, and the punch he aimed at the young man hurtled in Alexander’s direction.
The punch landed drunkenly, with barely any force behind it, but a heavy signet ring caught on Alexander’s jaw, and he snarled.
A flash of pain burst through his face, and he rounded on the lord. He shoved the man back.
If he fought, he’d have to be escorted out, too, under the pretense of simply being another gambler so nobody knew he had been in Horace’s office.
But Lord Mortimer looked over his shoulder. “Lord Banbury does not deserve my Anna, and no amount of his father’s excuses will convince me otherwise! He is a rake who has not learned from his mistakes.”
The younger Banbury shouted as he dove towards Alexander—towards Lord Mortimer, sending all of them crashing to the floor.
Hands gripped throats, and a swipe of blunt fingernails caught his skin. One of the lords punched again, and Alexander groaned, catching it. He didn’t know who was who for a moment, surrounded by flailing arms.
Alexander growled, overpowering both of them, once he finally saw through the drunken bluster.
He had both of the lords pinned to the floor, a fist clenched in each of their collars.
“Behave,” he snarled. “Bothof you. Settle your differences outside of this establishment or risk being barred. If you wish to fight like thugs, then you can find yourselves in the less savory places of London. I have heard the Clover is fine at this time of the day.”
Both lords looked outraged at his suggestion but Alexander merely dragged them both up to standing, releasing them with a push. The men staggered back.
“Get out of my sight,” Alexander ordered.
To the sound of apologies, he turned to Horace, who was already ordering everybody to return to their game. The guards hovered back, ready to intervene had Alexander not done it first.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Horace said, glancing around at the onlookers who lingered out of curiosity.
It would protect them both, should Alexander look to be doing Horace a favor.
“It seems our meeting is concluded,” Alexander said quietly, and Horace nodded, clasping his back.
“You are a husband now, regardless,” Horace responded in a whisper. “Go home to your wife, Your Grace.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Iknow you are there,” Alexander’s voice startled her.
The light outside the windows of the library had gone by the time Madeleine left the library, not realizing it had grown so dark, or so late.
The candles around her had been lit. She had been so engrossed in her book that she had not even realized the maids had entered to do such a thing.
Closing the library door behind her, Madeleine had glanced left and right down the hallway, finding it dark and empty.
Footsteps had sounded in the distance, the soft scuff of servants’ feet, and she had wondered if, during her deep reading, she had missed her husband coming home.
Then, she had heard the clink of a glass in the drawing room as she’d headed towards her chambers.
Pausing before the stairwell, she’d peered into the drawing room, finding Alexander sprawled in one of the armchairs, his head tipped against the chair’s back.
The first thing she’d seen was the smear of blood on his face, the peppering of bruises, and the scratches across his neck and face.
Her gaze roamed over him, noticing the absence of his cravat and the loose, unbuttoned state of his shirt.
His thick neck gave way to a broad, defined chest, the hard swells of muscle tapering into a taut, chiseled stomach that rose and fell with each deep breath. The shirt slipped from his shoulders, revealing the powerful cords of muscle beneath.
