Page 52 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Chapter Sixteen

Anthony had alreadyinstructed his driver to head to Gentleman Jack’s once Laurel had been dropped off at the townhouse. His anger at her prying into his past had yet to subside. She was very persistent. And persuasive. Though he’d warned Woodward not to speak to her regarding the past, he doubted the man could have stood up under Laurel’s interrogation. Thank goodness he’d arrived in the drawing room when he did, else who knows what the man might have spilled. Anthony knew it was wounded pride speaking, wanting to conceal how shabbily he’d been treated by his family. How he was the little boy not good enough to remain with his family.

He never wanted Laurel to learn of the treatment he’d suffered at the duke’s hands. Though she infuriated him at times, he still wanted her to have a good opinion of him.

The most difficult thing had been to hang on to his anger last night and keep from going to her. He lay awake in bed for hours, fantasizing about his hands on her smooth, alabaster skin. His mouth on hers, taking and tasting. Thrusting into her, again and again. It had nearly driven him mad but he’d maintained control and stayed in his bedchamber.

They hadn’t spoken during their journey back to London. As the miles passed and the silence thickened, he didn’t know how to start a conversation. Instead, he’d let the swaying carriage stoke his anger until, by the time they’d arrived, it filled him. He knew how to control it, though. He’d seen her home and now came to vanquish his demons by using his fists.

He alighted from the coach and went inside. Gentleman Jack himself was the first to greet him.

“Back from the country already, Your Grace?” the former boxer asked. “I heard you’ve married a very pretty young thing.”

“She’s not pretty,” he snapped. “My duchess is quite beautiful.”

“I see. Are you merely working out with the bags or do you seek a sparring partner?”

“Both,” he said succinctly. “I’ll be at the bags shortly. Find me someone to fight.”

The owner took his leave and Anthony headed into the rooms designated for changing. He unknotted his cravat, thinking of how Laurel had done so. He cursed under his breath, determined to push all thoughts of her from his mind. Stripping to the waist, he returned to the outer rooms.

“Boxing gloves, Your Grace?” a worker asked.

“No.”

Anthony went to a vacant punching bag and attacked it viciously, pounding his fists into it. With each punch, frustration only built instead of subsiding. He continued pummeling the swinging bag until sweat dripped from him. Someone brought him a large tankard of ale and he drank the entire thing in one long gulp.

“I’ve found a partner for you, Your Grace,” Gentleman Jack told him. “Follow me.”

They passed several marked-off rings, all filled with gentlemen of theton, sparring with men. Anthony suspected many of the employees allowed themselves to be beaten although he’d boxed with a few who would never give in. The man that watched him approach the ring was one of those. He was two inches shorter than Anthony but made up of pure muscle. From experience, Anthony knew his opponent’s reach was longer than most men of his height.

Unfortunately, his competitor never stood a chance. From the moment Gentleman Jack gave the signal, Anthony seized the moment, advancing and immediately throwing hard punches to his opponent’s midsection. Before long, the action between other boxers had come to a halt as everyone watched the Duke of Linfield beat a man to a bloody pulp.

Gentleman Jack called a halt to the match and two workers lifted his unconscious opponent, dragging him from the space.

“You’ve already cost me two employees, Your Grace. That might be a third. Perhaps you need to find another sport to help exorcise your demons.”

Anthony glared at the former boxer. “You’re saying I’m no longer welcome?”

The owner thought a moment and Anthony could see he didn’t want to risk alienating one of his best customers.

“Let’s strike a bargain, Your Grace. The next time you come, you fight with gloves. Until I tell you to go back to your bare knuckles. Fair enough?”

“All right,” he said begrudgingly. He didn’t like wearing them but he needed to box. If that was what Jack wanted, he would agree.

He returned to the townhouse and soaked in a hot tub for a long while as Monkton applied liniment to his bruised knuckles. After ten minutes, Anthony washed it away. He couldn’t show up with the smell of liniment clinging to him. Besides, a duke would always wear gloves to evening social events so his damaged knuckles would never be seen. Monkton had already informed him of tonight’s musicale.

Since he returned so late, he’d missed dinner. Monkton dressed him in dark evening clothes and Anthony hurried downstairs. Aunt Constance and Hannah were already waiting in the foyer and he apologized to them for his tardiness. They didn’t seem to see anything remiss in him and Hannah chatted away, telling him about the two young bachelors who had visited this afternoon. Anthony nodded and kept glancing up the stairs, anxious for Laurel to appear. When she did, she stole his breath.

He watched her descend the stairs, the emerald green gown hugging her curves. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. The neckline revealed her rounded breasts to perfection. His fingers longed to skim them. His mouth yearned to suckle them. She reached the bottom of the staircase and he noticed she wore the same pearls he’d seen before and they seemed wrong for this gown. He’d meant to give her jewelry. He had access to the numerous Linfield jewels now. Knowing every eye would be on his bride tonight, he needed her wearing something splendid.

“You look beautiful,” Hannah exclaimed.

“Yes, she does,” he agreed. “Will you excuse me a few minutes?”

Anthony returned to his bedchamber and the safe that held several sets of gems. More were at his bank and he decided he would go first thing tomorrow and claim them. He wanted everyone to see how splendidly his duchess wore them. He took a moment to locate what he wanted, hoping she would appreciate the gesture.

When he joined the others, he said, “I have something for you, Laurel. Would you remove your pearls?”

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