Page 27 of Undercover Duke
At the mix of protests and laughter from the other guests, Juncker stared hard at Sheridan. “I wouldn’t expect a duke to know much about that. Especially one who spends all his time trying to keep his ailing dukedom afloat.”
The room went utterly silent. It was one thing to attack a man’s talent or taste. It was quite another to bring finances into it.
“Now see here, Juncker,” Thorn cried behind Sheridan. “That’s my brother you’re insulting.”
“I can fight my own battles,” Sheridan told Thorn, loudly enough to be heard by Juncker. Then he pasted a dismissive smile to his lips. “Especially when the man I’d be fighting gets his only exercise from wielding a comb.”
“And a pen,” Juncker said, practically daring Sheridan to announce the truth. And if not for the fact that Thorn and Olivia would never forgive him for it, Sheridan would have obliged. Even after Juncker added, “At least I don’t get it from chasing heiresses.”
“Not that the heiresses are complaining.” Sheridan turned to Vanessa, who looked as if she found the entire exchange entertaining. But she would, wouldn’t she, since she was trying to make Juncker jealous. “Are you, my dear?”
“I haven’t uttered a word of complaint, but only because this discussion is ridiculous.” That brought a general rumble of laughter from the others. “I refuse to get in the way of two gentlemen engaging in verbal fisticuffs.”
Juncker gazed at her. “Would you prefer physical fisticuffs?”
Alarm crossed her face. “No, indeed. It would be vulgar for a woman to encourage such a thing.” The crowd murmured their approval. “Besides,” she went on, “I suspect neither of you knowshowto engage in physical fisticuffs.”
At the shout of laughter from the onlookers, Juncker clutched his chest. “You wound me deeply, dear lady.”
“I doubt that,” Vanessa said with a smile. “His Grace claims you have the skin of an elephant.”
More laughter ensued.
“And the heart of a lion,” Juncker shot back.
“More like the heart of a mouse,” Sheridan said dryly, “or a minor insult from a lady wouldn’t have you clasping your chest.”
Juncker leaned forward. “I can still use fisticuffs to prove my lion heart, if you prefer.”
“I’m game for it,” Sheridan bit out.
“Enough,” his mother said as she rose. “There will be no fisticuffs of any kind from you two or I shall ban you both from attending any future social affairs I’m involved in.”
“You’d ban your own son,” Sheridan said skeptically.
“Absolutely, if he acts like a brute rather than the gentleman I taught him to be,” she said in that steely voice he remembered from his childhood.
Sheridan struck his chest theatrically. “NowIam wounded deeply.”
“I’ll lend you my elephant skin if you like, Armitage,” Juncker called out.
“No need,” Sheridan answered. “When Mother sees fit to enter the fray, it’s time to stand down.” He fixed Juncker with a dark gaze. “Agreed, sir?”
Juncker hesitated only briefly. “Of course. God forbid I be regarded as a brute by the duchess.”
That was considered the final word, thank God, since Sheridan definitely didn’t want to cause more pain to his mother. She’d suffered enough of it in her lifetime.
And that was an end to the skirmish between him and Juncker, if it could even be called a skirmish. Although Sheridan suspected that the entire mess might have been avoided entirely if. . . .
If what? Vanessa had come down squarely on his side? If she had put herself in his corner in the first place?
She would never do that. Snagging Juncker was her aim. And though that rankled, Sheridan was willing to help her, even if it annoyed him. Even if he disapproved. Even if all he could think of was Vanessa coming to him the way one came to a lover. . . .
Damn it all, that wasn’t acceptable.
He forced a smile for Vanessa’s benefit. “Shall I fetch you another buttered crab, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart?What the hell was he doing?
