Page 69 of The Wrong Duke

“Fifty thousand!” Miss Baker gasped. “Father?”

“Quiet!” he hissed at her and then turned back to Evan. “It is none of your concern!”

“On the contrary, Lord Lindstone, as of yesterday, your debt is my concern.”

“Wh — what?” he stammered stupidly. “What do you mean?! Speak!”

“As you know, Lord Malnor is a very good friend of mine, and when I learned of how much you owed him, I offered to take your debt off his hands. Really, after all you’ve put him through, it’s the least that I could do.”

His eyes widened, and he stumbled. “You’re lying!”

“I assure you that I am not.” He walked forward and took Miss Baker by the hand, pulling her away from her father, who this time didn’t try and stop her. “As far as the banks are concerned, you, Lord Lindstone, belong to me. At least until you see fit to pay off the fifty thousand pounds you owe me, but after a quick peek at your financials, I can’t begin to imagine how you might do that.”

Evan had never seen someone look so angry. The little man shook on the spot, fists bawled up, face bright red, eyes as wide as dinner plates. So angry was he that steam seemed to pour from his ears and nose like a kettle that needed to be lifted from the fire. He had lost, and he knew it, and now, he was reckoning with how that felt.

Only... as he was soon to find out, this wasn’t even the worst of it.

“Fine,” he snarled. “If you want to buy my whore daughter for fifty thousand pounds, what do I care. Take her! Take her and consider my debt honored.”

“You know what...” Evan tilted his head and smirked. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“What? But you just said —”

“I’ve had an interesting few days.” Evan turned to address the room, ensuring that everyone was watching. “I was curious how one might rack up such extraordinary levels of debt — and what they might do to try and alleviate it. More precisely, the types of characters they might be willing to work for to see it expunged. And do you know what I found?” He swung back on Lord Lindstone. “Does the names Miss Scarlett Jones mean anything to you?”

Lord Lindstone’s face paled, and he took a nervous step back. “I... I’ve never heard... that name isn’t familiar —”

“She married my father some years ago, tricking him into falling in love with her so that she might siphon off his fortune into a number of ventures that, truth be told, were even more revolting than this one. One such venture was the hiring of bully boys as debt collectors for loan sharks, men of despicable morals who didn’t mind beating up and maiming those who didn’t have the means to fight back. But she couldn’t do it alone, knowing that her face couldn’t possibly be associated with such rapscallions. So, she used a proxy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I demand that you —”

“It was you!” Evan pointed a single finger at the Viscount, the effect of which was as if he slapped the man across the face. “You were in charge of hiring these petty thugs to collect debts all over town. But it didn’t stop there. One instance in particular, involving a young lord whom Miss Scarlett wished to make disappear because he was becoming a problem. Do you know of whom I speak?”

Evan had done well to remain calm up until this point. Having the higher ground, knowing that he was untouchable, and enjoying the shock and awe of the moment, he’d been able to keep himself composed in a way he didn’t know was possible. Indeed, from the moment he entered this room and spied Miss Baker, it was all he could do to wait and bide him time, the sight of her in such duress like a dagger through his heart.

But he was through being calm. Done with being collected. His temper was up, his rage was boiling, and it had everything to do with what he was about to say. For two days now, he’d been forced to sit and wait, the desire to seek his revenge held in check only because he knew that for this to work, he’d need witnesses... not to mention a little bit of theatre.

Now, the time for calm was gone. The time for vengeance had arrived.

“My brother,” Evan growled. “He was jumped not far from here, in fact. A few blocks over while investigating a warehouse he had linked to Miss Scarlet. Jumped by a group of assailants who beat him such that he died on the street, alone, scared, succumbing to wounds that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” he cried.

“Liar!” Evan roared, and the room seemed to gasp. “You were the one who hired those men! When Miss Scarlet learned what my brother was going, she reached out and asked you to collect the worst of the worst, those who you knew would finish the job where others might not.”

“That wasn’t...” He took a step back. “I didn’t — I never asked them to —”

“To what? Kill? Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. Truly, I don’t care. The result was the same. My brother died because of you, Lord Lindstone, and for that, I demand retribution.”

“Take her!” he pushed Miss Baker toward Evan. “Take her, and we can forget —”

“I intend to.” Evan took her by the hand and pulled her behind him. “But it won’t stop there.”

“Wh – what do you mean?” he stammered, looking frightened now as he should have.

“The way I see it, you have two options.” Evan’s tone was ice. “And I suggest you listen closely, you fat pig, because I won’t repeat them. One, you want your debt removed? Fine, it’s done. Gone. We are even. But if you accept this, if you sell your daughter to me, I will inform Scotland Yard of what you have done, and they will arrest you. And you, Lord Lindstone, will spend the rest of your days in chains with hammer in hand, breaking rocks, forced to remember what it is that you did and how your life came to such misery.” He bore down on the Lord who was cowering now. “Personally, for a cretin such as yourself, it’s a fate far beyond anything you deserve.”

“You wouldn’t!”

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