Page 47 of My Highland Rogue
“You need to know about men who’ve dreamed great things,” she told him once. “Philosophers and mathematicians, among others.”
Because of her, he’d started reading the books in the library. She’d given him one a week and expected him to finish it in that time. When Sean said something about the time he spent reading, Gordon had responded that the countess wanted him to do it. Neither Sean nor Betty commented after that.
Now all of those memories coalesced. He could almost see Mary Adaire sitting there in her chair, holding a book with her fingers trailing over the spine, her palm flat against a page, almostas if she were willing herself to read the words through her fingers.
She’d never complained to him, but he felt that losing the ability to read was something she regretted the most.
He and Jennifer had taken turns reading to her. He’d always felt embarrassed when it came to poetry, but he had kept on, for fear that one of them would consider him a coward for not continuing.
He headed for that section now, daring himself. One book especially seemed to have been her favorite. He pulled it from the shelf, smiling as he opened it.
“What the hell are you doing back here?”
He carefully placed the volume back on the shelf before turning to face Harrison.
“Wasn’t the money my mother left you enough? Are you thinking you’ll get some more from my sister? She may be a fool, McDonnell, but she’s not your fool.”
As a boy he’d handled the problem of Harrison by pushing his face into the dirt. He was sorely tempted to do the same right now.
There were several places in the Mayfair Club where he could see the members without them being aware that they were being watched. He’d observed Harrison often. The man was a bully. One who’d supposedly been taught manners, but who remembered them only when it was personally convenient.
“Does it make you feel better to insult your sister?”
“What the hell are you doing back?”
Gordon folded his arms and wondered how far this conversation would go. He didn’t resort to violence unless it was absolutely necessary. Neither was he physically afraid of Harrison. He was his match in height, plus he’d taken boxing lessons in the past year. In a fair match he’d beat Harrison, he was sure. However, Harrison wasn’t above bending the rules.
“My father is dying,” he said.
That silenced Harrison, but only for a moment.
“You aren’t wanted here, McDonnell.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
The current situation could be altered with only a few words. All he had to do was tell Harrison that he owned the Mayfair Club, that the markers that may well bankrupt Adaire Hall were in his possession. It wouldn’t alter Harrison’s contempt for him, but it might well shut him up.
He knew when to use an advantage, and tonight was not the time.
“Get out,” Harrison said.
“Your sister has invited me to stay. I believe your wife seconded that invitation.”
“I don’t care. Get out.”
He could argue with the man, or he could simply get his belongings and take them to the gardener’s cottage.
Gordon strode toward the door, anticipating that Harrison would do something. He wasn’t disappointed when the other man’s arm reached out. Before Harrison could strike a blow, Gordon struck first, hitting Harrison in the chin with his left. He stumbled, which was enough for Gordon.
“Anytime you want a fair fight,” Gordon said, “let me know.”
Harrison rubbed his chin and glared at him. “The sooner you leave Adaire Hall, the better, and don’t return.”
“I doubt I’ll have any reason to do so, Harrison.”
Unless he owned Adaire Hall, which he could do with a flick of a wrist.
He’d wanted to return triumphant and in a way he had. He had a noose around Harrison’s neck, and the idiot didn’t even recognize his hangman.
