Page 27 of Courting Miss Lancaster
Dalforth laughed uneasily. He likely wasn’t entirely sure that Harry was exaggerating.Harrywasn’t entirely sure he was exaggerating. He had known Adam for more than twenty years and had never in the course of those two decades seen Adam as livid as he had been the night before.
After returning from walking Persephone to her rooms, Adam had insisted on the entire story. Persephone had been unable to say much, her emotions too raw and overwhelming. By the time Harry had delineated the insults heaped upon the Duke of Kielder’s beloved wife, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Adam’s confrontation with Sir Hubert Collington would be legendary. And, as he was not in a position to defend Athena’s honor, Harry was cheering him on.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I was charged with the responsibility of escorting the soon-to-be-departed to meet his fate.” Harry rose from his chair.
“Think I’ll come along.” Dalforth rose as well. “I have something of an interest in seeing that last night’s slights are avenged.”
Harry eyed Dalforth warily. “What claim do you have?” Had Dalforth declared himself? Was there an understanding between him and Athena? The idea did not sit well.
“No claim, per se,” Dalforth replied carefully. “Merely the interest any true gentleman would take in seeing that a lady is not subjected to public insults and humiliation.”
Harry’s mind was not entirely set at ease, however. Dalforth’s interest seemed to go beyond that. Harry had seen him dance with Athena on more than one occasion. Dalforth sought Athena out at various gatherings. The man was driving her out that very afternoon. Dalforth, obviously, had his own equipage and the income to support such a possession. Harry, on the other hand, was beginning to feel the necessity of tightening his proverbial belt. He generally did not remain in London beyond the beginning of August. He had extended his stay by nearly a month already, and London was not an inexpensive place to live.
Harry scanned the faces of the gentlemen sitting at their ease in the comfort of one of London’s exclusive gentlemen’s clubs. They would certainly return home with a tale to relay to their wives and daughters before the afternoon was over. But where was the villain in the drama about to unfold?
The room Sir Hubert was eventually found in was relatively crowded. Adam would be happy about that. Of course, the audience would grow once the commotion began.
“Sir Hubert,” Harry called out, his voice friendly, if one was not paying enough attention to notice the irony in his tone. “Well met.”
Sir Hubert did not look impressed. Harry was not, after all, titled. Such things were of paramount importance to the baronet.
“How was the remainder of the musicale last evening?” Harry asked, as if making casual conversation.
“As offensive to the sensibilities as the first portion,” SirHubert replied, his usual acidity apparent.
“And was the performance as insulting as the company of one particular person on the guest list?” Harry inquired, keeping his expression innocent and his tone light.
“I do not quite follow you, Windover,” Sir Hubert replied.
“Odd.” Harry twisted his face in a farcical look of surprise. “I seem to remember finding one person in particular quite odious. Do not you, Dalforth?” He turned to the gentleman beside him.
“Indeed,” was the response.
“I have no idea to whom you might refer,” Sir Hubert said with a lift of his chin. The gesture was obviously meant to imply that he cared very little for the opinion of two untitled gentlemen.
“Then I suggest you begin thinking, Sir Hubert. Think very hard. And very quickly.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Sir Hubert replied, his eyes narrowing.
“A warning,” Harry corrected. “A warning.”
Adam had an impeccable sense of timing. He stepped through the door into the room where Harry, Dalforth, and Sir Hubert were conversing under the watchful eye of at least two dozen attentive gentlemen. An unnatural hush settled over the gathering.
Harry allowed a smile of amusement to slip over his face. “Time’s up,” he said to Sir Hubert before stepping aside to allow Adam to do his dirty work.
Adam moved slowly, deliberately across the room. Every eye followed his progress. Adam’s gaze didn’t waver. It sliced through Sir Hubert with an intensity that Harry was certain the baronet found physically painful. Something of Sir Hubert’s smugness had slipped away.
Not a breath sounded in the silence. Adam stopped less than two feet from where Sir Hubert sat.
“On your feet, maggot,” Adam said without preamble.
The swiftness of Sir Hubert’s compliance undermined his grace, making for an awkward rise. “Your—”
“No words,” Adam growled. “You have had your say. Now you will listen.”
Sir Hubert’s eyes flicked briefly to Harry, apparently suddenly realizing the reason for Harry’s earlier warning. Harry offered the briefest bow of acknowledgment, little more than an inclination of his head.
The entire room was listening, but Adam didn’t speak immediately. Harry understood what he was doing. Making Sir Hubert wait would only increase his anxiety. Eyes were darting around the room as every occupant seemed to search for the elusive answers to the questions, no doubt, on every mind. What had Sir Hubert done to upset the Dangerous Duke of Kielder? And what would be left of the baronet when the duke was finished with him?
