Page 2 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“Now then,” he said, and both men glanced at him, a little of their anger diffusing at the sight of him.
They had not been watching his match, but they still knew who he was. There were some advantages to being one of the most influential men in England.
“What has happened to make you act like children?” Adrian asked them.
The first man, embarrassed, glanced at his feet. “Nothing to concern you, Your Grace,” he mumbled.
“Viscount Melbourne left the confines of the piste when he struck me, Your Grace,” the other said, raising his chin. “I apologize for disturbing you. But if he hadn’t left the piste, he would never have landed the blow, and I likely would have won the match.”
Adrian eyed the piste, six feet wide. “You must have been playing an enthusiastic game to have strayed so far from the center.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the first acknowledged. “Things got a little out of hand.”
Adrian gestured to a waiting attendant. “Did Viscount Melbourne leave the confines of the piste?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Grace, by a fraction.”
“Thank you.” With a flick of his fingers, Adrian dismissed the man, and looked back at the gentlemen, brows raised. “You see the advantage of applying to someone who witnessed the situation instead of bickering like children?
“Viscount Melbourne, it appears you did break the rules, if unconsciously done. The game is forfeited. If, in the future, you play another match together, make sure to pay attention to the rules, and to find external resolution to your situation, if necessary.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Viscount Melbourne’s face was scarlet with mortification. “I assure you it won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Adrian turned away, and no one stopped him this time.
As he retrieved his coat and slipped it on, an apprentice bumped into the owner of the club.
“You young rat,” the older man seethed, his eyes narrowed, and violence in every line of his body.
“My apologies, sir. I didn’t know you were there.” The boy bent, his back hunched as he fumbled with a stack of practice swords. “I’m sorry.”
“You’d better be. Useless boy.” The owner twisted the boy’s ear viciously, and Adrian’s footsteps hesitated.
Instead of the owner, he saw a man whose face was a twisted version of the one he saw in the mirror.
Hatred and cruelty—a duo in his father’s gaze as he raised the belt in his hand. A perverse satisfaction in the pain he’d caused.
Adrian exhaled, and the world returned to its proper place, his father back in his grave and the apprentice cowering before the berating owner.
Perhaps because the man saw him, the owner paused in his scold, regaining his composure and giving the boy a push. “Be on with you, lad, and don’t cause any more trouble.”
As the boy passed, Adrian put his own hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Not to worry,” he said. “Just watch your step next time.”
The boy’s frightened eyes met Adrian’s. “Yes, Your Grace,” he stuttered.
Adrian let him go and left the building.
When at last he arrived at Somerfield House, the sun had set long before, and darkness crept in through the windows. He crossed to the other side of his study, shutting the drapes firmly so no hint of the outside intruded on his own private haven.
Finally, a space to himself. And a chance to get on top of some work.
First, he opened the bureau against the side wall and removed a decanter of brandy, pouring himself a glass. Slowly, he felt his shoulders relax from the events of the day.
It was not usual for him to see something that reminded him of his father. For years, he had done everything he could to put the man from his mind, and for the most part, he had succeeded.
He took a gulp of the amber liquid, letting it slide down his throat, the burn sinking pleasantly through his body. If the boy had been more careful, none of this would have happened. That was the reality of the situation, and he let himself dwell on that for a moment.
Yes. There was nothing else to feel about the situation. Emotions were a weakness; survival depended on mental fortitude. He would not allow any weakness space within himself. Not any longer.
