Lord Day and Lady Night

61. Happy Reunion of Student and Teacher

It did not take long for Lord Patrick Day to regret his "victory". Not that he injured himself in the fight, oh no. Neither did he mind the tear in his precious oriental carpet, or the way she had used a statuette worth ten thousand pounds sterling as an impromptu weapon. No, his problems were of a...different nature.

"Duck!"

Thwack!

"Goose!"

Wham!

"Chicken!"

Bam!

"What sort of warnings are those last two?" he groaned, clutching his stomach.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Smiling her demon's smirk—ehem, gentle, ladylike smile, Lord Patrick quickly corrected himself—Amy stepped towards him. "Were ye under the misconception dat—"

Thwack!

"—gangsters give warnings in fights?"

Bam!

"Agh!"

"Just in case ye 'aven't realized yet," the lady of the night pointed out, helpful as always, "dey don't."

"Y-you don't say," he groaned.

"I do. Christmas turkey."

"Huh? Wha—"

Bam!

"Ugh!"

Yes. He had come to regret his victory. And, no matter what his screaming muscles were telling him, not mainly because he had been stuck into a female meat grinder. No, the reason was something altogether different.

Lips. Soft lips caressing mine. Ever so tempting...

He had kissed a woman. No, not just a woman. Kissing a woman would not have been a problem—if it had been his bride. On his wedding day. But Miss Amy Weston was most definitely not his bride. Nor would she ever be, unless he wanted his mother to die from a heart attack and come back as a zombie to gut him and eat his brains.

There simply was no future for the two of them.

And yet...he had kissed her.

Not the zombie. Amy. Although his noble instincts were not certain which would be worse. She was a lady of the night, for heaven's sake! A lady of the night! And he...

He was supposed to be a man of rectitude!

Are you certain? To judge by recent experience, a man of erectitude would be a more apt description.

Lord Patrick growled and made a mental note to strangle Titus for making his inner voice sound so darn much like him. If his tally was correct, that now made three thousand, seven hundred eighty-seven reasons to strangle his best friend, accumulated over the years.

That, unfortunately, did not mean his inner voice was incorrect. He had behaved disgracefully! In a manner more befitting a street ruffian than a Peer of the Realm.

Well, isn't that excellent? After all, learning how to behave like a street ruffian is kind of the point of what you're doing. So, how about you take the next step and get her alone in a room with a cozy bed and get some action?

That similarity to Titus was really starting to be disturbing.

Which, once again, did not mean, however, that the voice was incorrect. At least the first part. The second definitely was! Definitely, absolutely incorrect!