Page 37 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
“Devlin,” the duke urged.
Henry rolled his attention back toward the duke. “I answered my door to Miss Brennan who was sobbing, and her nose was bleeding, possibly broken.”
“How did that happen, Mr. Haskett?” the duke asked.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he replied with a nervous lick of his lips.
“You don’t. But if you wish to leave this house without being torn from limb to limb by Devlin here, I suggest you start talking.”
“She ismyactress, Duke.”
“It’s Your Grace if you value your neck. And last I checked, stage managers don’t own their actors. Explain how she ended up in her condition.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise,” Henry growled.
The man snickered. “Her condition, Your Grace? Listen, she was a little too friendly with the earl, and she and I were having a discussion.”
“Words don’t usually involve broken noses.”
“She bloody ran away and hid. The door whacked her face.”
“Saying I believe you, which I don’t, that doesn’t explain the handprint across her face.”
“Why are you assuming it’s mine?”
“Oh, bloody hell!” Henry clenched and unclenched his bruised hand. The cad had a thick skull in more ways than one. “Listen, Miss Brennan came to my room to seek assistance, so I located Mr. Haskett, and we threw a few punches because I will never tolerate violence against women.” He turned his head, pointing his words to the disgusting excuse of a man, “And I don’t care if you’re the bloody King of England, I won’t allow it.”
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” the duke called, never turning his back away. “Oh good, thank you for coming, Mr. Greenwald.”
Henry felt something shift within him when Stephen stormed in, glaring at Mr. Haskett.
“I need some assistance here, Greenwald. Mr. Haskett will be leaving us. I will see that he’s escorted from the premises after we discuss a few matters.”
“You damn well will not be escorting me anywhere. I did nothing wrong.”
“Miss Brennan’s face suggests otherwise. And we haven’t talked about the embezzlement claims yet…”
At that, the color drained from Mr. Haskett’s face.
“You and I will talk later, but”—he turned to address Henry directly—“let me assure the earl here that you will be leaving Haddington Court and London almost as quickly as you arrive. And you won’t be seeking out any retribution against Miss Brennan. It’s my theater now.”
Stephen approached with papers for Mr. Haskett to sign.
“Sign this.”
“I won’t sign anything.”
The duke pointed toward the papers. “You will, so you can either do it yourself or I can help. This is a contract that transfers your share of the theater to me.”
Mr. Haskett scoffed. “You have no proof.”
At that, Stephen produced a box of papers. “We have plenty.”
“Your luggage has been packed, and Greenwald here will escort you back to London. If any of us hear a whisper of what happened here, I will hand over the documents I have from Lord Garvey that detail the extent of your embezzlement, and I will personally send the Bow Street Runners after you. I know several patrons of that theater who have been generous in the past and will not be pleased to learn of your activities.”
