Page 65 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

“While you got slow.” James circled him. “Marriage has made you soft.”

Richard shrugged off the comment with a strict look. But his eyes were sharper now. Focused. “Well, if I win, I can go to Selina and celebrate.”

A sharp uppercut that nearly knocked James off balance. Nearly. James avoided it and landed a punch to Richard’s ribs.

Richard bounced away with that infuriating smile of his. “If I lose, I can play the wounded husband and have my wife take care of me.”

Another hit. Another dodge. Perfect rhythm.

Richard was cold, tactical energy. James was fiery fury. Soon, all the gentlemen gathered to watch them fight.

“While you, my friend,” Richard said between jabs, “will spend the rest of the night alone.”

James’s next punch came too fast, too forceful. Richard barely dodged, stepping just out of reach. But James was even faster, and another punch connected with his friend’s ribs.

“Oh, I touched a nerve, James?” Richard said casually. “Can it be that a woman has the mighty Crawford wound up?”

James landed a brutal, well-placed blow that sent Richard stumbling back. A ripple of murmurs from the audience echoed through the room.

James stepped back, rolling back his shoulders. “This match is over.”

Richard, still grinning despite the pain, clutched his ribs and exhaled sharply. “Did I just live to see the day, James?”

“Go on and see how long you will live.”

James grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off his face. He moved to the lounge and ordered brandy before he flopped down onto a leather chair. Not long after, Richard joined him.

“You are really in a foul mood, my friend,” Richard noted.

“It is in your best interest to keep your mouth shut, Seymour.”

“So, you just invited me here to be your punching bag, that’s what it is? Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Richard scoffed, taking a long sip of whiskey.

James said nothing. Because his mind wasn’t there. It was elsewhere. On the woman he refused to think about. The way he felt, the way she felt when he was between her ivory thighs. He downed the brandy and asked for another.

Richard, ever the damn nuisance, studied him with that sharp, knowing look. James had always been grateful to have a friend like him, but right now James hated the way Richard knew that something was gnawing at him.

“You’re thinking too much,” Richard observed, swirling his drink.

“You are assuming I have time for idle thoughts,” James said curtly.

“James, talk to me. This is why you called me here. Unless I did something I am not aware of that deserved such a beating.”

James looked at him sideways. Richard was frowning, studying him. As if he knew. As if he was starting to understand that the casual banter about a woman wasn’t just teasing. As if he could see what the mere thought of Diana did to him.

“Solomon seems to think that I have failed.”

Richard’s face contorted with wrath. He was privy to everything going on in James’s life, and James felt comfortable enough to talk to him about some of them.

“That is unfair.” Richard leaned forward. “You’ve done admirably. Your fortune is almost doubled. You’re a ruthless bastard in Parliament, and many people respect you for that. And you’ve been doing it since you were a boy. I hope you are not taking all this nonsense seriously.”

“He thinks I failed as a man.”

“Ah.” Richard sipped on his drink.

James clenched his jaw. “He is wrong.”

“Is he?” Richard studied him.

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