Page 35 of The Scarred Duchess
“I got him good behind the meaty piece of his leg.” Reeves made a short jabbing motion. “Me mate Roark got up and grabbed his ballocks with both hands. And he squeezed the juice out of them.”
Darcy winced with sympathetic agony.
“I’m telling you this because the beating you took happened because you didn’t see a coward when he was right there in front of you.” Reeves put his hand on his shoulder. “Cowards ain’t got honour. Cowards are low. They’ll only show themselves if they see the favour to win.”
“Wickham beat me fairly,” Darcy said, his eyes lowered.
“His kicking you when you was down, were that fair?” Reeves retorted. “His stomping you when you was on your side, were that fair?”
“No.” Darcy shook his head.
“That’s right.” Reeves nodded approvingly. “Today isdone. Tomorrow, we learns you to fight a coward. When someone goes cheating on you, hold nothing back. No rules, no honour, no stopping until he’s down.”
“Like my cousin. During one of his training skirmishes, a regular struck at him while he was getting prepared to tussle. Richard hurt him badly.”
“Your cousin trains with a weapons master?”
“Yes. He has since he was seven.”
That sparked Reeves’s interest. “Do you know his name?”
Darcy looked to the ceiling. “Marchand? Marker? Richard refers to him as the Prussian.”
“Butcher Markov is your cousin’s master?” Reeves closed his eyes as if to recall a memory. “Your cousin hurt one of the King’s own, you say?”
“That is what he wrote. His man, Villiers, confirmed it, as he was there.”
“Do you still have the letter? Did he write the man’s name? His rank?”
“I do.”
“Fetch it, will you?”
Darcy ran off to retrieve it, managing to locate it and return in minutes, opening it to skim as he went. “He wrote the man was a Sergeant Legget of the 7th Foot.”
Darcy looked up to see the amazement on his trainer’s face.
“Your cousin nearly kilt Legget,” Reeves whispered in awe. He looked up at his student, who sported a very grim mouth.
“My cousin does not suffer bullies.”
“Ne’er did Legget. But now he be minding a gaggle in Hertfordshire.” Reeves stared at his charge. “Time you learnt like your cousin.”
“I am ready.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Darcy stood above his opponent and quickly delivered a hard kick to Reeve’s ribs. A hand grasped his ankle; he dropped his weight and his knees drove into the supine man’s chest.
“Oof!” Reeves exhaled before Darcy slammed a fist into the source.
“Enough!” shouted his father.
Darcy lent a hand to Reeves, who grasped it and used the young man’s strength to lift himself.
“I see your summer in Ashdale went well,” observed his father.
Darcy smiled at Reeves. “My cousin showed me a few things.”
