Page 66 of A Countess Never Tells

He dropped to his knees and managed to reach the chamber pot beneath the bed, but only just. When he’d finished, Thompson took the foul mess without a murmur, and Ash curled up on the cool floor, needing a minute to accept that he’d lost a major battle. Now he’d have to find a way to go forth and somehow salvage the war.

****

Standing in front of the imposing door and knocker at Haxby House, Ash was reminded of the first time he’d stood so, about to relate to Lord Haxby Lord Baltimore’s wager. At that moment, Ash had had no idea he would make an offer for Miss Tate in less than half an hour.

Now, about to accuse her brother of a devious plot to turn Kitty’s affections from him for once and for all, his motives were far different than he’d ever believed he’d admit. He still wanted to marry Kitty Tate, but now because he couldn’t imagine a day in which he would not have her company, not see her, speak to her, steal a kiss and more. All because she was the only woman, of all the countless women he’d seduced over the years, who’d given him back as good as she’d gotten. She wasn’t about to take her brother’s decrees meekly and break off her acquaintance with him simply because a man told her to do so. Spirit was always something to be prized in a woman, and he craved Kitty’s spirit as he craved the air he breathed or the food he ate.

Seizing the brass loop of the knocker, Ash knocked swiftly and harshly, as if daring the butler not to answer the summons. After some moments, the door opened and Mr. Barr peered out, his face a mass of sullen wrinkles. “Yes, my lord?”

So that was the lay of the land. Well, Ash had an advantage over Barr—his title. “Please tell Lord Haxby I wish to speak with him.”

“Lord Haxby is not in, my lord. If you’d like to leave a card?”

“Card be damned.” Ash pushed past the startled butler and strode into the receiving room with the uncomfortable painting. In his current mood, it was actually rather soothing. He’d like to dominate someone right now, the Earl of Haxby for choice. “Tell his lordship that if he will not see me here, I shall go down the street telling everyone I see that I have debauched his sister. Under which circumstance, I assume he will meet me on the field of honor. Rest assured, Barr, he will meet me, and I do not care which place at the moment.”

The butler paled, backed away until he bumped into the door, then turned and fled down the corridor. His heels clacked on the floor until at last the sound was lost.

Ash paced the floor, anger mounting with every step. After everything he and Kitty had gone through, to have her brother concoct this “test” of Ash’s strength of will was Machiavellian. The more he thought about it, the less he believed Haxby had acted like a gentleman. By God, the man wasn’t going to get away with this kind of insult.

Hurried strides down the corridor announced Haxby’s approach. Ash stood straight, face set in firm lines, awaiting his chance to throw the gauntlet down, metaphorically speaking. His gaze trained on the door, he stepped forward to meet the foe as Haxby entered the room, his rapier drawn and at the ready.

Ash danced backward, narrowly missing the sideboard that held Haxby’s accursed brandy. His gaze darted about the room, searching for some sort of weapon. None came to sight until he spied the poker in the fireplace. He leaped for it, snatching it from its place next to the tongs, and came en garde just as Haxby lunged at him, his sword thrusting close to Ash’s right flank.

“How dare you impugn my sister’s reputation!” Haxby’s face was blood-red in fury.

Parry, riposte. Ash’s hours of training with a sword had paid off before this; however, knowledge never went to waste. He beat at Haxby’s fine Italian blade. If the iron poker could break it, perhaps they could speak like civilized men. “You refused to see me.” Ash bound the blade to the ground, bringing him face to face with Haxby. “It was the only threat I imagined would bring you downstairs.”

“You imagined correctly, my lord.” Haxby withdrew his blade then whipped it up overhead in an attempt to split Ash’s skull wide open.

Ash managed to throw the poker up and blocked the cut. But the poker was three times the weight of the sword. Ash was tiring and still fuzzy-headed, although the exercise had helped clear it. Still, it was time to end this. “I am the one who will seek satisfaction of you, Haxby, for playing me the dupe in an attempt to make your sister refuse to marry me.”

The absolute shock on the man’s face made Ash pause, though he kept his blocking cut firm. “I did no such thing. Kitty has been weeping in her room since the middle of the night, uttering unintelligible things to my wife, who is with her. The only thing we have been able to understand is she refuses to see you or marry you.” Haxby’s eyes narrowed. “What the bloody hell did you do to her?”

“Before I answer that question, I have one of my own.” He nodded to his opponent, who nodded back, and they both lowered their weapons. Ash pulled out Haxby’s note and handed it to the earl. “Did you send me this note last evening along with a bottle of cognac?”

Haxby took the paper, peered at it closely, then shook his head. “I will say it is a clever forgery, but no, I wrote no such note to you. Sent no brandy.” Haxby cocked his head. “What was the vintage?”

“De Griffier 1755.”

Haxby shook his head. “No. I’d never even have that year in my cellar. Too dry, not enough aging.”

“It tasted sweet enough, and yet it had a distinct flavor.” Ash was confident enough at Haxby’s response to return the poker to the fireplace. “Is it rather stronger than other cognacs? It has left me with a headache and fuzzy feeling in my head. I’ve never reacted to spirits in such a way before.”

“That sounds most peculiar.” The earl shook his head. “Pity you don’t have it with you. I’d like to inspect it.”

Nodding his head toward the door, Ash sighed with relief. “Send out to my carriage. I was suspicious enough that I brought it with me.”

Haxby dispatched a footman in search of the bottle then waved Ash to follow him. “As we are being civil for the moment, no need to remain in the grim receiving room.” They turned into a room Ash hadn’t seen before. But the shelves of books and maps, the massive desk stacked high with papers and folders, spoke of Haxby’s office. Somewhat less intimidating than that austere receiving room, but not by much. “Have a seat, my lord.”

Ash chose a tawny leather club chair that was actually quite comfortable. Haxby, of course, sat behind the huge, polished mahogany desk. A family of four could have used it for shelter.

“All right, Ashwood.” Haxby leaned across the desk, his face a study in sorrow. “What the hell is going on? Kitty has not stopped crying since she returned home early this morning.”

Ash sighed, suddenly much more optimistic that his supposed future brother-in-law had not played him false. “I originally thought you had arranged for me to find myself in bed with a bird of paradise.” He hesitated, knowing what the next statement would admit once Haxby thought about it. “And had further arranged for Kitty to witness this salacious encounter in an attempt to turn her from me.”

“You’re mad.” The earl’s outraged face changed from red to white then back to red again. “You think I’d go to such lengths to concoct this elaborate scheme, to expose Kitty to something this sordid just to discredit you in her eyes when…when…”

Ash could almost see the wheels turning in Haxby’s mind.