Page 109 of The Lyon Whisperer
That was something.
Tully sniffed and tugged the frilly white cuffs of his shirtsleeves. “Yes. The conversation here grows tiresome.”
Chase spoke to Amelia, never taking his gaze off his longstanding foe. “Amelia, kindly see yourself to the carriage and wait for me there.”
“But—”
Whatever argument she meant to give died on her lips at his sharp glance.
“Very well, my lord. Lord Tully,” she said, years of good breeding evidently not allowing her to depart without a polite farewell.
“Lady Culver,” he said stiffly, folding his handkerchief and re-inserting it into the pocket of his waistcoat.
Rather than turn toward the carriage, Amelia appeared frozen. She frowned at Tully—his waistcoat, in particular, an odd, considering look on her face.
Chase was close to issuing his directive again more forcefully when she finally obeyed. He waited until he heard her greet the groom by name before saying what he did not wish Amelia to overhear.
“Do not doubt for a moment I meant what I said, and I’ll add this. Do not approach my wife again. Do not speak with her, do not speak about her, do notbreathein her direction.”
“Why? Are you so afraid she’ll succumb the same way the last woman of yours I set my sights on did?”
“No. I trust my wife.” Odd as it was, he did, regardless of the fact she’d clearly been up to something without his knowledge—again.
“I do not, however, put it past you to use her to get to me, and I will not allow you to hurt her, not by word or deed, nor will I allow you to drag her name though the mud. Should I get wind of any misstep on your part as pertains to my wife, you should know—I’ll kill you.”
Tully’s eyes widened with a combination of outrage and fear. “How dare you?”
“Oh, I dare,” Chase said with promise. He turned his back on the earl and stalked toward the carriage.
Tully was probably somewhat taken aback, Chase reflected. After all, he’d hated Chase for years, an animosity which seemed to have grown ten-fold since his marriage to Millicent.
During those years he’d gone out of his way to insult Chase, besmirch his reputation, and take any potshot he could, with Chase not so much as blinking an eye for one simple reason. He did not care what Tully or the gossip mill thought of him.
In truth, he also harbored a small amount of gratitude for the lifetime of misery Tully had saved him by seducing Millicent, and subsequently revealing her ambitious and calculating nature before Chase married her himself.
But when it came to Amelia, all bets were off. He would not tolerate Tully’smodus operandi.
He opened the carriage door and vaulted inside, not bothering with the step. He sprawled on the bench opposite his wife and fixed her with a malevolent stare.
She perched on the cushion, back ramrod straight. Several tendrils of her inky black hair had come loose from her once-pristine chignon and clung to glistening, flushed cheeks, proclaiming to all and sundry how she had spent the last hour—racing about in the heat.
Chase rapped two knuckles on the trap.
The carriage lurched into motion.
“How did you leave things with Lord Tully? You assured me, not a week ago, you did not entertain such foolish notions as duels. I cannot fathom what inspired you to say such a thing. Do you realize what could have happened if he had called your bluff? Sir, I demand you never—”
“You demand,” he interrupted softly.
Her tirade came to an instant halt. Wariness filled her eyes.
“I have some demands of my own, Amelia.”
“Such as?” she asked.
“Such as you tell me where the hell you were this afternoon when you were supposed to be at your modiste’s.” He realized he spoke through clenched teeth, and made a marked effort to loosen his jaw.
“Do you know how foolish I looked showing up at that damned dressmaker’s shop only to find you gone andeveryone—save me—seemingly aware of your whereabouts?”
