Page 42 of Seducing a Frigid Lady
“Be careful, Lord Sinclair,” Mr. Kenyon said, his voice harsh and filled with warning. “Miss Lloyd is conniving, and she knows exactly what she does to the men of theton. She has half of us playing off against each other in order to win her favour.”
Lionel’s frustration turned to anger then. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Kenyon?”
The smirk that spread across the gentleman’s face was already enough for Lionel to want to spring across the table at him. Just his talking about Miss Lloyd as though he were familiar with her left Lionel feeling as though he had been rubbed the wrong way.
“I am implying that woman knows exactly what she is up to and she is trying to play us all,” Mr. Kenyon grumbled, sounding more than a little put out.
Perhaps if he had been feeling rational, Lionel might have asked himself why a gentleman such as Mr. Kenyon would feel the need to speak of Miss Lloyd in such a way, but as things stood he was in no mood to be rational.
“Mr. Kenyon, I do believe you are being entirely disrespectful towards Miss Lloyd and I would urge you to take it back,” he said as smoothly and calmly as he was able even though the anger in his gut was beginning to turn to all-out rage.
“Why ever would I do that? She is not here,” Mr. Kenyon pointed out, glancing around him and gesturing around the room as if he meant for Lionel to point her out from the crowd.
“Whether she is here or not, I shall not have you speak another negative word against her,” Lionel insisted through gritted teeth. He glared openly at Mr. Kenyon now, not caring who might see how angry he was becoming.
“Perhaps we ought to change the subject?” Max suggested, but his words went entirely unheard by both men, who continued to glower at each other.
“Why? She is a seductress and a witch!” Mr. Kenyon declared, laughing as though he found the words amusing.
“Take that back,” Lionel growled out the words, slamming his fist down on the table in such a way that it caused all the other men in the room to turn their attention towards them.
“I shall not!” Mr. Kenyon declared and Lionel suddenly felt the urge to grab his golden brown hair and dash his face into the table. It was not a gentleman’s thought at all, but in that moment Mr. Kenyon couldn’t have been being further from gentlemanly. “Miss Lloyd is quite intolerable and I imagine she shall end up an old and haggard spinster.”
Lionel could take no more. His hands flew at the underside of the table, and he dashed it so fast at Mr. Kenyon that Max and Lord Frost barely had the time to rush out of the way.
Chaos ensued as Lionel threw himself at Mr. Kenyon, who had been knocked from his chair by the table that had been thrown at him. Grabbing him by the throat of his shirt, Lionel dragged the man to his feet.
“You really ought to be more respectful about your peers, Mr. Kenyon,” Lionel snapped at him, holding him so close that their noses were almost touching. “They are the backbone of our society.”
Mr. Kenyon scoffed openly with laughter at that, though it was a choked sound where Lionel’s had was gripping hold of his shirt and cravat. By now the men from the other tables had begun to form a crowd around them, several whispering with interest while others demanded for Lionel to release him and explain himself.
“Perhaps many women are, my lord,” Mr. Kenyon chuckled and the spark in his gaze suggested to Lionel that whatever words came from his lips next, he wasn’t going to like them one bit. “But Miss Lloyd is an outcast and she ought to remain in the dark where she belongs.”
Lionel’s free hand, already balled into a fist, launched immediately at Mr. Kenyon’s face before he even realised what was happening.
Shocked gasped erupted from the onlookers even as Mr. Kenyon throw one back. All hell broke loose as the two men pounded each other with their fists, going over another table in the process. They scrambled against each other, getting in a hit here and there wherever they could.
Lionel’s ribs ached where Mr. Kenyon had managed to get in a few blows and the taste of blood filled his mouth. His lip stung, likely where it had been split by a ring on the gentleman’s finger.
“Enough! Both of you!” Max yelled and fingers gripped hold of Lionel’s jacket shoulder. Though his cousin tugged, it was not enough to get Lionel off Mr. Kenyon where he had pinned him to the near table, a fist drawn back to aim another blow at him. “Someone stop standing there and help me!”
It was in that moment that Lionel felt another grip on his other side. He barely heard Lord Frost as he calmly said, “Lord Sinclair, I think he has had enough.”
Though in the next instant, the red mist that had spread over Lionel’s vision began to dissipate and for the first time he could see the ruin that he had made of Mr. Kenyon’s face. The stinging of his own cheek and lip reminded him that Mr. Kenyon had struck hard at his face more than once during their altercation, though he could remember little more than that.
“Lord Frost, forgive me, I do not know what came over me,” Lionel said through gritted teeth. His only regret was that he had done something so violent beneath the roof of a man who was friendly with Miss Lloyd. As for the ruin of Mr. Kenyon’s face, he was both satisfied and disgusted with himself for having allowed the man to goad him into such action.
“I do not believe it is I who requires your apology, Lord Sinclair,” Lord Frost commented, still holding onto Lionel’s arm just as Max did on the other side.
Knowing exactly what he meant and having no intention of apologising to the likes of Mr. Kenyon, Lionel spat at the man instead, showing his utter disdain for him.
Mr. Kenyon glowered back at him even though one eye was half closed now with swelling and blood dripped down the side of his face. Bile rose in Lionel’s throat. He never should have allowed himself to lose control like that. Though there was no way he was going to show even a single ounce of regret in the face of such a man.
Max leaned over and whispered into Lionel’s ear, “I think we ought to leave.” He then turned to look at Lord Frost and said, “I apologise, Lord Frost. My cousin is not feeling himself tonight. I shall escort him home.”
Lord Frost did not look angry or even upset, though it was clear that he was not feeling his usual perky self. He nodded firmly and stated, “I think that would be best.”
Lord Frost gestured the butler forward and added, “Please see Lord Sinclair and Mr. Parr out.”
