Page 31 of The Duke I Wished For
She opened her mouth, ready to scream, but if she did…
If they were caught together…
“Please,” she started.
“Please what?” His tone was a taunt.
She wet her lips and tried to think of any way to reason with this madman. But then a voice came from down the darkened hall, so low and rumbly and filled with rage it sounded like a growl. “Get your hands off the lady.”
10
Blake stalked toward Daffodil and the fool who held her arm, determined to tear him from limb to limb. Slowly.
How dare that man touch her? Daffodil cowered, her shoulders hunched in fear as Mr. Benson loomed over her. There was no mistaking the situation. He’d watched as Daffodil had attempted to escape, her face pinched with fear as Mr. Benson drew her ever closer.
Blake recognized him from that first night he had met Daffodil. He’d never asked if there was a formal arrangement between Mr. Benson and the woman he wished to make his wife. Another oversight on his part, one he intended to correct, immediately.
Surely, if given a choice, Daffodil would choose him over this cad? For the briefest moment, he wondered if he was mistaken. If she didn’t feel the way he did, then perhaps he wasn’t a good option for her either.
But that was for her to decide. Either way, he’d make certain that Mr. Benson learned some manners.
The man finally let Daffodil’s elbow go, turning to face Blake. “You are interrupting a conversation between a man and his fiancée.”
Blake could give the man credit on one account. His shoulders were square and his chin high, as though he believed himself to be in the right. Was he? Blake’s feet slowed the slightest bit as his gaze narrowed. “Fiancée?”
“It’s not true, Your Grace,” Daffodil cried from next to Mr. Benson. “We are not engaged.”
Pride swelled in his chest. She’d spoken up for herself, despite the sharp look Mr. Benson cut in her direction. The other man reached for her arm once again, and Daffodil’s cry was sharp with pain even as Blake closed the distance between himself and the odious Mr. Benson.
He shot out a hand as well but it was not to Mr. Benson’s arm. Instead, his fingers closed about the other man’s neck, his fingers efficiently cutting off the man’s air supply as he leaned in very close. “Take your hand from the lady.”
Mr. Benson did not do as Blake commanded and, instead, wrapped the hand not holding Daffodil around Blake’s wrist. They looked like a ridiculous chain in some lawn game he barely remembered. But he wasn’t letting go until Mr. Benson ceased touching Daffodil.
“I don’t care what your position in society is, Your Grace,” the man pushed out between little puffs of air. “Daffodil was already promised to me.”
Blake tightened his grip and then, leaning in close, he spit his next words through gritted teeth. “Let go of her this instant.”
Mr. Benson did as he bid, and Daffodil stumbled to the side, catching herself as her wide, frightened eyes met his over Mr. Benson’s shoulder.
Blake eased his grip on the man’s throat. “Now, we’re going to have a discussion on how a man should properly treat a genteel lady.”
The other man’s lip curled. “I do not need an education on manners from the man attempting to steal my fiancée.”
“Again, Mr. Benson. There is no formal arrangement between us,” Daffodil said, her voice filling with resolve even as her eyes hardened. His own chest puffed with pride. He liked that Daffodil was so kind and giving, but he also enjoyed watching her stand up for herself.
“But your mother?—”
“Spoke out of turn,” Daffodil cut him off. “You ought to know that any final decisions about who acquires my hand lies with my father.”
Blake winced as he loosened his fingers further, letting Mr. Blake go. He wasn’t exactly using proper methods either, but in his defense, he wished to express his feelings toward Daffodil directly to her first.
Someone needed to give her a choice in the matter. And if it wasn’t her parents, it would be him.
Mr. Benson raised his hands, pushing at Blake’s chest.
Which was almost laughable. Blake must have outweighed the man by two stone, most of that weight muscle.
Mr. Benson attempted to push him again, and Blake stood taller, his chest expanding as he glared at the man. “Push me again, and you’re going to regret it.”
