Page 92 of The Virtuoso
“The windows are locked,” Val informed him, “and my friends will be right outside the door. They will not interfere, however, unless I ask them to.”
“Val.” Darius met his friend’s eye, raised his left hand to his waist, and made a tight fist. “Be careful.”
Val nodded and let the silence build. Nick merely rolled his eyes and followed Darius from the room.
“So what are we about?” Freddy asked, swallowing audibly when the lock clicked shut on the only door.
“We’ll settle this like gentleman.” Val shrugged out of his coat. “And I promise not to kill you, because I understand you’ve only the one heir, and his claim to Markham blood is quite attenuated. Surprises me I’d care about your miserable succession, but I think it would mean something to Ellen.”
“Ellen?” Freddy ran his finger around his neck cloth again. “Is this about her?”
“Coat off, Markham.” Val started rolling back his cuffs. “I’ll even let you take the first swing, and yes, part of this is about Ellen. You are no kind of man if you think preying on your cousin’s widow is acceptable.”
“She’s managing,” Freddy muttered as he struggled to get out of his coat. “She’s the kind of female who will always manage, and how was I supposed to squeak by on a bloody damned allowance like some schoolboy!”
“She manages.” Val removed the signet ring from his smallest finger. “Why couldn’t you?”
“Because a gentleman has needs,” Freddy nearly shrieked. “You should know that.” He extricated himself from his coat and put his fists up.
“It isn’t considered sporting to keep the rings on, old man,” Val said, limbering up his fists.
“It wasn’t stealing,” Freddy retorted, an odd note of genuine relish in his voice. “She owed me, Windham. She will always owe me.” With that, Freddy put up his fives and took up a stance reflective of the scientific approach favored by the bloods who frequented Gentleman Jackson’s salon.
Val, youngest of five brothers, took one look at his opponent, resisted the urge to thank God for small favors, and laid Lord Roxbury out flat with one right-handed punch.
And as disappointing as it was, Val limited his retribution to that one very effective blow.
***
Darius resumed his assigned role as the more sympathetic bystander and assisted Freddy to his feet.
“He drew blood!” Freddy stared at his fingers, touched them to his lips, and found more blood.
“You essentially bit yourself,” Darius said, handing Freddy a glass of water while Nick and Val looked on dispassionately. “I’d offer you some ice, but that amenity is yet in short supply in these rustic surrounds. You might want to use your handkerchief or cravat on that lip, though.”
“But blood leaves an awful stain,” Freddy said, his words slightly slurred. “Stanwick would leave, and then where would I be?”
“Can’t have that.” Darius shook his head. “Have we sent for Lord Roxbury’s equipage?”
“His curricle is in the drive,” Val said. “Sean is walking his team.”
“So that’s it, then?” Freddy rose unsteadily, but Darius did not offer any more support. “You plant me a facer and we call it even?”
“No.” Val let Nick assist him back into his morning coat. “That was simply to address the requirements of honor, and damned unsatisfying it was, Roxbury. I’ll be calling on the local magistrate, and you’ll be hearing from me.”
Freddy’s split lip began to bleed down his chin, but nobody offered him a handkerchief, so he was compelled to use his own. He blotted the blood daintily, eyeing Val all the while.
“The Lords won’t convict me, and I can have you charged with assault. Duke’s son or not, you’re just a commoner, and I hold one of the oldest titles in the land.”
“I didn’t say you’d be charged,” Val replied mildly, “but I will say, before witnesses and men of honor, as well, if you ever try to extort another farthing from Ellen Markham, I will hunt you down and wrap your balls around your scrawny neck until you expire, and then I will feed your carcass to the pigs.”
Freddy’s bloody lips compressed, but then a short, ugly laugh burst from him.
“You won’t have me charged.” He patted the handkerchief against his lip. “You know you’re holding the low cards now, Windham, so I’ll take my leave of you with a little kindly advice: Ellen Markham is capable of murder. Family loyalty prevents me from seeing her tried for the crimes she’s committed, but let me suggest that even if you’re besotted with her, you’d be a fool to trust that woman farther than you can pitch her, much less with the lives of your children. She’s dangerous, and make no mistake. I keep my distance from her for reasons my late cousin would understand only too well.”
He left them on that, and Val went to the window, watching in silence as Sean stepped back from the horses’ heads. When Freddy had tooled off down the lane, Val remained at the window.
“Did he tell you anything during your bout of fisticuffs?” Nick asked.
