Page 23 of The Dove
“I fully intend to confront the bastard,” Bertram said before Adam could take his first step toward the doors. “You see, gentlemen, a man like that … one who preys on unsuspecting women …they’re the worst sorts of cowards. When faced with a real man, they fold like a deck of cards.”
Adam’s hand curled into a fist, and he swiveled, glaring over his shoulder at the man who had ruined his sister. The irony of Bertram’s statement wasn’t lost on him. He wondered if the fool realized that his words applied to himself. Because, even if Daphne had been prey, she’d been willing prey. His sister most certainly had not.
The good intentions he’d had upon deciding to leave fell to the wayside as he loped toward the table, fixing his face with a sardonic smirk.
“Well, now,” he declared as he approached their table. “Far be it for me to deprive a gentleman of the chance to say his piece to my face.”
Bertram blanched, his tumbler slipping from his hands and falling to the carpet with a thud. His cheeks reddened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The men seated around the table glanced at him, then to Adam and back again, waiting for the promised confrontation.
Folding his arms across his chest, Adam raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something you wish to say to me,Fairchild?”
The fool proved as dense as Adam had known he was, shooting to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at him in a fine display of brotherly outrage for the benefit of his audience.
“Hartmoor, I warn you,” he blustered. “Leave now, or I shall be forced to remove you bodily. This club is for gentlemen, the ranks of which you do not belong to.”
He couldn’t help a dry bark of laughter at that. “Yet, they allowed you inside, so their standards must not amount for much.”
Glancing down at the cards and bank notes scattered over the table, he pursed his lips.
“Careful at the tables, dear Bertie,” he taunted. “You would not want to lose what little you have left, would you?”
With a snarl, Bertram rounded the table, his chest puffed out, his self-righteousness on full display. As he drew near, Adam could see the terror in his eyes, the weakling hiding behind the façade. He stood two seconds away from pissing himself, but did not wish to back down and have his friends realize that the man they kept company with was a coward.
Adam stepped forward to meet him, towering over Bertram by several inches. Glaring down at that simpering idiot, he sneered.
“Please,” he whispered, so only they two could hear. “I’m begging you, give me a reason to expose you to everyone here … to tell them all who thetrueblackguard is.”
To his credit, Bertram held his ground, clenching his teeth to get his trembling chin under control. “Do you think anyone would believeyou, when all thetonis fully aware of what you did to my sister?”
He grinned, flashing his teeth with all the warmth of a predator about to have its next meal. “They know enough … but not the entire story. How entertaining do you think it would be for them all to find out that you accepted ten thousand pounds from me for your sister’s maidenhead?”
Bertram faltered, panic alighting in his eyes, which broke his gaze and made them dart about. “You wouldn’t … it would ruin you just as much as it would us.”
Adam inched closer, his upper lip curling at the rancid stench of sweat, spirits, and fear emanating from the little worm squirming at the mere sound of his voice.
“You see, that is the difference between you and me,” he retorted. “Even if I gave a shite about my reputation, I’m a bloody earl. They would whisper and gossip, but no one would dare give me the cut direct. You, however … they would crucify you. What little clout your father has left would vanish, and there isn’t an establishment in this city that would admit you … money or no money.”
Bertram snorted, shaking his head. “Then do it. Just finish this. It’s what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?”
“Because, your sister does not deserve what such talk would do to her,” he replied. “And unlike you, I do not take pleasure in destroying innocent women who have never done me a day’s harm.”
“No, you only like forcing them into your bed,” Bertram retorted.
This time, his smile was genuine, fueled by sincere amusement. “I can assure you, no force was necessary.”
Bertram growled, lunging as if to attack, fists raised. Adam’s hand whipped through the air between them like the strike of a snake, his palm slamming against Bertram’s throat with enough force to send him staggering back.
Coughing and wheezing for air, Bertram doubled over, pressing his hands to his neck. Adam was on him then, grasping him by his collar and forcing him to stand upright. His eyes watered from the force of the blow, his breaths coming out on a rough wheeze.
“This is the only time you will try that and survive,” he growled, shaking Bertram like a rag doll. “And if you have any doubts about whether or not that was an idle threat, I suggest not trying your luck.”
Tossing Bertram away from him, he scowled at the men who had been seated at his table. They had come to their feet and watched him with varying degrees of shock and horror upon their faces. Yet, not one of them dared approach him or take him to task. None of them would defend Bertram.
Inclining his head at them, he turned to take his leave. His long legs carried him swiftly from the room, but as he stumbled out into the night, the cold air did nothing to cool his ire.
The foul mood was back, exacerbated now by Bertram’s needling. Damn him for not knowing when to leave well enough alone. One would think that a man who had been as thoroughly ruined as Bertram would wish to slink off to some quiet corner of London and live off the money he’d managed to earn in the end. But, no, Adam had arrived to find the cur drinking, gambling, and publicly declaring his intentions to call him out.
It would seem the fool had not learned his lesson … a circumstance that was easily mended.
