It struck the marquess that Harry was copying Lord Harry’s behavior. He wanted to be a hero. He was going to force a duel. He stepped quickly forward and grabbed Sir Harry’s arm. Before Sir William could answer Harry’s challenge, he said smoothly, “Hold, Harry. Though I would never disagree your reasons, I must confess that my grievance with Sir William predates your own. I’m sorry, old boy, but surely you must yield to my prior claims.”
“Prior claims? What the devil, your grace?”
Sir William sneered, no other way to put it, but the marquess saw from the corner of his eye that he had backed away a step.
“Yes, Harry, prior claims. As a gentleman, I of course can’t disclose to you just what is involved. Further, I believe your argument with Sir William is a trifle premature. Allow me, I beg, to hold a brief discussion with Sir William. It is my belief that he will wish wholeheartedly to offer you an apology for his actions in this affair.”
“Apology,” Sir William shouted, his face red with rage. “If this young puppy can’t keep the silly wench in line”
“Do shut up, Filey,” the marquess said quietly. “Well, Harry, will you give way to my request?”
Sir Harry stood uncertainly, wondering what the devil he should do. Isabella’s cold refusal of his proposal had left him in such a fury that he wanted nothing more than to blow Sir William’s brains out. That he had not followed Lord Harry’s advice and had, indeed, bawled Isabella out for her common slut’s behavior, had made him all the angrier. She’d just stood there, staring at him, her only words being, ‘I’m not a slut and well you know it. Get out, Sir Harry. I never want to see you again.’ And that had been that. Well, he would show her that he was more the man than was Sir William. He would make her regret her words.
“Harry?”
Sir Harry pulled himself away from his thoughts to meet the marquess’s eyes. “Very well,” he said finally, “but he will be mine when your grace is done with him.”
“You shall have him or an apology, Harry. Does that suit you?”
“Yes.” Sir Harry bowed curtly to the marquess and strode away, leaving a group of very interested gentlemen in his wake. The marquess gazed about him, his brows raised. “If you would now excuse us, Sir William and I have a small problem to solve.” He smiled sweetly at Sir William and said gently, “Come, Filey.”
Sir William deplored this sudden turn of events, yet realized that if he were to refuse the marquess, he would be the butt of humiliating jokes for a very long time. He nodded coldly and followed the marquess from the room.
“I believe we can be assured of privacy here,” the marquess said, drawing to a halt in a darkened corner of the vast reading room.
“You’ve no quarrel with me. I can’t help it if Brandon forces a fight.”
The marquess said, “My quarrel with you is of long standing, Filey.”
“I had nothing to do with Elizabeth and you can’t prove otherwise, damn you.”
“No, as you say, I can’t prove otherwise. Yet when I see you playing the same game once again, I cannot help but grow perturbed. With Elizabeth though, you enjoyed much more sport. After all, both I and Damien Rolland were involved. And that, Filey, has led me to wonder exactly how you managed to have Rolland removed from England with such exquisite timing.”
“Rolland? Your grace pulls the girth in the wrong direction. How could I have known what Rolland was about?”
“You must admit it was a curious coincidence. Elizabeth veered away from both of us, toward Damien. Then suddenly he is gone and the field is once again yours.”
“And yours as well, your grace.”
“Yes, but you see I had nothing to do with Damien’s leaving England. Whereas you, Filey, are really quite a bastard and would stop at nothing to gain what you wanted. Now I ask you again, what do you know of Damien Rolland?”
Sir William was uncertain. He would have liked very much to tell the marquess to go to the devil, but he knew that such a gesture would very probably cost him his life. He tried for an indifferent shrug. “Maybe Rolland realized that Elizabeth would make a very poor wife for an aspiring politician. Damn, I tell you, I know nothing about it. It’s the truth. I wondered when Damien left England, but I had nothing to do with it.”