Page 23 of The Beastly Duke's Christmas Bride
He left a note for the housekeeper and his wife before taking his leave, only taking a small pack on his horse before riding west.
There was a light spray of rain that eventually soaked his traveling coat. But by the time he arrived in London, he was only damp. Back to the townhouse he went for a change of garments before winding his way to the dark corners of the city.
The long walk was needed. He stretched his legs and crossed the streets before finding the ground floor shop he was in search of. He needed to be certain his friend was still about. This time of day, the private gym was the most likely option.
If he isn’t around, I’ll have to hire some fool to look for him. Wouldn’t be the first time. But I’m tired of finding him unconscious and covered in someone’s drink and blood.
“Marcus!” He hollered once he spotted the man across the gym.
Powdering his hands, the other large man straightened up and turned with a smirk. “What a pleasure and a treasure, having the duke hisself here. What’re you here for?”
“I’m an investor, aren’t I?” Sebastian pointed out. He shed half his clothing on the way over. The coat and cravat and waistcoat were set aside, along with a few small weapons he always kept on hand. “In the ring.”
There was a large center ring, a small side one to the left, and training equipment on the right. This shop was one of the first things Sebastian had purchased once he had the title. There was money to his name and he wanted to spread the wealth around. While Marcus wouldn’t take a dime simply from his hand, he would run the private gym as well as the somewhat illegal sporting rings.
“Someone’s in a mood today,” Marcus beamed. He ran a wrist over the top of his lank white-yellow hair. Come summer, he would surely shear it right off. But winter had him trying to keep his ears warm. “Itching for a fight, are you?”
“I looked for you nearly a fortnight ago,” Sebastian said instead. He grabbed fresh bindings for his hands before moving to thering where his friend was already climbing through. “Where were you?”
The man tsked. “I could ‘ave been anywhere, couldn’t I?”
“It was late and snowing.”
“That narrows it,” scoffed Marcus. “You’re not my mam. Why’re you worrying for me?”
“About you,” Sebastian corrected him. He’d learned for himself how different people were treated based on their language. Though he had taught Marcus to better himself with proper English, his friend couldn’t leave his past alone for long. “And you know that I always do. It wasn’t business for the Mackeys, was it?”
Both of them were in the ring now and Marcus used that opportunity to lunge. Always an eager fist. But Sebastian easily ducked before sliding across the mat further out of the way.
“I can pay you better,” he went on.
“I don’t need the money, I told you. I won’t take another farthing from the likes of you,” Marcus insisted with a stubborn tilt of the chin. Then he jerked his head to the right and followed through, a tell that Sebastian could read plain as day.
He swung in and landed one fist, then two and three. Both men tore apart after Marcus swiped at his leg.
Around they went. The room warmed; soon they were both dripping with sweat. This was just what Sebastian had wanted.
And one more thing. “You’re not working for the Mackeys, then?”
“Course not.” Marcus lunged and Sebastian let him have the hit on the shoulder. It wasn’t a particularly strong one. He stumbled before fixing his footing and caught Marcus in the ribs. “You were waiting for that one, eh?”
Sebastian bared his teeth in a smile. “You know me.”
“And I thought I knew you.”
He frowned, narrowly dodging an uppercut. “What is that supposed to mean?”
In three more seconds, the two of them were tied together, grappling and trying to get tight enough holds to throw the other down. He had an arm around Marcus’s neck and shoulder while his friend had his shoulder and a leg.
“I mean,” Marcus said in a choking voice, “you didn’t invite me to the wedding, mate. Always thought I… I’d be your best man.”
Sebastian twisted free so he could see his friend’s face. He wasn’t terribly surprised to see the raised eyebrow.
“Well?” Marcus asked.
“Well what? I didn’t invite anyone to the wedding.” That wasn’t true. He had invited the three other dukes. But at the time, he had known it would be impossible for them to arrive the next day for the wedding. He hadn’t wanted an audience for that, nor had he thought Isabel would, either.
His friend scowled. “I would have gone.”
