Page 42 of A Duke But No Gentleman
“Perhaps this will help.”
The marquess grasped her wrists and pulled her into his arms.He tasted of brandy and desperation as he kissed her so hard that she tasted blood.
“No,” she murmured against his lips.
He twisted her arm and dragged her down so they collapsed onto the sofa.Did he plan to seduce her with Lady Ludsthorpe just beyond the shut curtains?
Gathering her strength, Imogene shoved Lord Norgrave away from her.“I told you to stop.If you cannot respect my wishes, then I must regretfully decline your generous offer.”
Lord Norgrave staggered to his feet.“Forgive me, Imogene.It was not my intention to frighten you.”
Imogene nodded, edging toward the curtain.“I cannot be your countess, my lord.If you would open your heart, there is another who would happily accept.”
“Lady Charlotte.”He sneered.“Do not insult me further by telling me who I should marry.My apologies for interrupting your evening.”
Norgrave stalked away.Shaken by the encounter, Imogene sat down and covered her face with her hands.
***
Norgrave was so furious he could not recall leaving Imogene.One minute he was fighting the urge to throttle her for tossing Lady Charlotte at him as if the timid creature was a worthy substitute for the lady he desired, and the next he was standing in the middle of the street.
Before he could take a step forward, a coach thundered by him.His hesitation had saved his life.If he had taken one step, the wheels of that coach would have cut furrows into his back.
“Stupid arse,” the witness to his near death jeered.The compassionate fellow shook his head in disgust.“Are you drunk or a simpleton?”
Norgrave offered him a taunting smile.“Are those my only choices?Come closer and decide for yourself.”
The man waved him off.“Go sleep it off.”
The marquess made a soft mocking sound.“It is just my misfortune that when I think I have found a man with stones in his hairy sac, I realize he has nothing but common sand.”
Norgrave deliberately turned his back on the man.He shut his eyes and waited for his quarry to assume he was vulnerable.
People often underestimated him.
He silently counted the man’s footfalls.The stench rolling off his unpleasant companion’s unwashed body alerted Norgrave to when he should strike.
His first punch caught the man in the throat.“What?Nothing clever to say?”
Fighting for his next breath, the man grasped his throat and staggered sideways as he tried to evade his attacker.Norgrave’s next punch struck the man’s left ear, and then his right.
“Can you hear me over the bells, you mouthy rat?”the marquess shouted after him.“That’s right, my good man.Scurry away like a good rodent.”
Norgrave waited until the man had put enough distance between them that he would assume he was safe from further retribution.He calmly walked up the street and picked up a discarded wine bottle.Testing the weight of it against his palm, he glanced at the dark alley the rat had raced down.
It was time to show the man how wrong he had been.
***
Tristan sensed he was not alone before he saw Norgrave’s hand on the bottle of wine.The marquess refilled his half-empty glass before he filled his own to the top and it overflowed onto the table.
“Are you planning to get drunk?”he mildly asked.He did not care one way or the other.In fact, getting drunk sounded like a good way to finish off the evening.
“Aye, so save your lectures,” Norgrave muttered, sitting down on the opposite side of the table in the noisy tavern.
“You have been fighting.”
The marquess blinked in surprise.“How can you tell?There isn’t a bloody mark on me.”
