Page 60 of An Extraordinary Lord

“The keys to the kingdom.” His smile faded, and he pulled at his gloves to bring them into place on his wrists. “My apologies, Rivers. I just learned about Miss Gordon. Damnable shame, that.” He shook his head. “Damnable shame.”

Merritt froze. Not one muscle moved, not even to breathe. He’d turned to stone.

“She was a fine woman with a bright future,” Liggett continued. “How terrible that you weren’t able to protect her.”

Merritt lunged. His left hand went around the general’s throat as he shoved the man backward against the wrought iron fence. He pinned Liggett there while his other hand drew back into a fist. He slammed it into Liggett’s face, again and again—

“Merritt, no!”

Veronica grabbed his arm as he pulled back for another furious punch despite the blood that already oozed from the general’s mouth. Merritt wrenched his arm to shake her off, but she refused to let go. Instead, she shoved herself between the two men, physically stopping him with her body.

He paused to gulp down great lungfuls of air and stared at her blankly in his fury, as if he didn’t recognize her.

She pushed him back several steps to give Liggett room to slip away from the iron bars. Her hands grasped Merritt’s arms to hold him back. His tightly clenched fists and the rippling hardness of the muscles beneath his jacket terrified her. He was more than capable of killing the general with his bare hands if she hadn’t stopped him.

“You’ll regret that,” Liggett promised. He scooped up his hat from the ground where it had fallen and wiped the blood from his mouth onto a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket.

The rage cleared from Merritt’s eyes, if not the darkness that still gripped his face and kept every muscle in his body taut and ready to spring. His fists remained clenched as he spat out, “Doubtful.”

Liggett jabbed a finger at Veronica. “Keep him under control, or I’ll call for someone who can.”

“Yes, General,” she agreed quickly. Her hands tightened on Merritt’s shoulders to keep him from doing something even more stupid, like attacking Liggett a second time as he walked away.

When the general was safely surrounded by the crowd at the front door, Veronica’s gaze darted to Merritt. He stood as still as a statue and watched Liggett’s back until he disappeared up the steps and into the house. His breath came forced and agitated, every inch of him metal-stiff. Blood had splattered across his waistcoat and breeches, and it gruesomely matched the ruby pin in his cravat.

“Merritt.” Confusion spilled through her. “What on God’s earth…”

When he didn’t look at her, still lost in whatever dark thoughts were swirling inside his head, she reached up to cup his cheek against her palm.

He flinched at her touch and looked down at her. A murderous rage simmered in him that she’d never seen before.

She knew it had nothing to do with the riots. “Who is Miss Gordon?”

He stared at her for a long, terrible moment in which her troubled heart pounded off the passing seconds. Then he answered quietly, guilt thick in his voice, “My fiancée.”

An electric shock jolted through her, followed immediately by a strike of jealousy so hot that she winced. He was…engaged?

“I—I don’t understand,” she breathed out, in her shock unable to speak any louder. Her hand trembled with confusion as she reached up to touch the earrings he’d given her. “Then why isn’t she here tonight? Why didn’t Claudia mention her?”

He looked away as the answer tore from him. “Because she’s dead.”

Sixteen

With a fierce groan, Merritt swung the sword with all his might and sliced it into the sawdust dummy in the Armory’s training room. He pulled back the blade and swung again. Pain shot up his exhausted arm and landed in his chest from straining the tight muscles all along the right side of his body. He welcomed the pain. Craved it.

Deserved it.

The now dull blade lodged deep in the dummy, slicing through the leather casing and sawdust fill to stick into the wooden post in the very center. Panting hard from the past hour’s exertion, he wrenched the blade to twist it loose, then stepped back to do it again. And again. And again…and would keep attacking until he’d purged all the burning anger and churning emotions inside him.

Damn Liggett for mentioning Joanna! The bastard had no business talking about her. Certainly not at that moment, not when Merritt needed to focus on the riots, when he needed to figure out who was behind them and why—

When he was standing next to Veronica, wanting her more than he’d wanted any woman in his life. Including Joanna.

His shoulders slumped with recrimination. That was why he’d attacked Liggett, why he’d wanted to murder the bastard right there in front of Carlton House. For the first time since Joanna died, he hadn’t been thinking of her.

He’d been thinking of another woman.

He dropped his arm to his side, the tip of the sword pinging softly against the stone floor, and scoured his free hand over his face. Veronica…Christ.He’d managed to dodge all her questions about Joanna and put her into a carriage to send her away, then came straight here. He’d taken time only to shrug out of his jacket and roll up his shirtsleeves before he’d picked up a sword to physically beat down his guilt and confusion.