Page 64 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

“I take an interest in anything that threatens the legacy of this family.”

James’s face contorted into such a thunderous expression that Euphemia coughed to make him rethink the words she saw brewing in his mind.

“I am simply carrying the legacy that was given to me.”

Solomon reared back at the open blow. He inhaled and tried to regain his composure. James was still surprised at how difficult it was for his father to see that he was no longer a boy.

“I am merely observing that you have cultivated a reputation that no respectable family in England would wish to be associated with.”

James chuckled cruelly. “Ah, the libertine rake. Mothers have been weeping in terror at the thought of their delicate daughters being in my presence.”

Solomon was not amused. His blue eyes, the same ones James had, turned icy cold. “No father with any sense would consider you a respectable match.”

James arched an eyebrow. “What a tragedy.”

His father’s jaw tightened. “You are thirty-two years old, James. You have squandered years of opportunity. You need a wife.”

“Need? I do not need anything. Perhaps you can stop meddling with my affairs.”

“You need an heir, or else all we have worked hard for?—”

“AllIhave worked hard for,” James bit out.

Solomon raised his hands. “You haven’t shirked your duties, son. I never said that.”

The moment that word—son—left his lips, James got up, ready to storm out.

“You have done well, James,” Solomon said slowly. “But you are still alone.”

James inhaled sharply. He clenched his jaw and straightened his shirt to keep his hands from doing something utterly stupid. Then, with a cold look, he regarded his father.

“I have always been alone,Your Grace.”

He kissed his grandmother and left the room, but Solomon had the audacity to follow him into the hallway.

“James.” His father’s voice carried across the hallway. “The amusements fade, the scandals grow old. What then? Build something, that is all I am saying.”

James didn’t even dignify that with an answer and rushed out of the house.

When in this state, there was only one place James could go. The ring. The only place he could unleash all this energy, the frustration, the anger. And that was what he did.

The moment he stepped into the Gentleman Boxing Saloon, he felt at ease.

The air was thick with the smell of sweat and the steady thud of skin against skin. The spacious, open room that was lined with weights, training equipment, and photos was familiar to him. Here, he could take out all his wrath in a manner that wouldn’t end in disaster or a scandal worthy of exile.

“It is never good news when you send word to meet here.” Richard came to his side.

James said nothing, just removed his coat and waistcoat and almost tore off his cravat. He rolled his sleeves up, and just like that, he had shed all the polished, civilized look of a gentleman.

“Are we sparring or what?”

“Like I would allow you to murder anyone else tonight.”

James exhaled, rolling back his shoulders, his breath coming sharp and controlled.

Richard moved first. Fast. Efficient. A quick jab that James easily dodged.

“Still quick, I see.” He grinned.

---