Royal Regard

Chapter Twenty-One, Part 2

The Duke of Wellbridge appeared rabid as a street dog, barely controlling the snarl in his voice. If Adolphe had ever questioned whether the man were a foul cur, the answer stood before him.

"Leave her alone, you demon-born bastard. One more step toward her, and I will beat you within an inch of your life. If I allow you to live at all."

Malbourne straightened the cuffs of his jacket. "Your Grace," he sneered, "How lovely to see you again, mon ami. I'm not certain of what you speak. Is there some way I can assist you?"

"I am not your friend, and you know exactly what I mean. Stay away from Bell—Lady Huntleigh—or I swear, I will take your head off with my bare hands and leave it on a pike. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ah, Lady Huntleigh. She is lovely, n'est-ce pas? So fresh and unspoiled." Adolphe allowed a hungry leer to cross his face. "I can see you have taken a personal interest. Will you call me out for a friendship as innocent as she? I cannot believe she would thank you for that."

"She wouldn't thank you for entertaining another woman in the dark a quarter-hour after you finished whatever it was you did to her." Adolphe hardened his face to any reaction. "Though, given her state of mind, she should be grateful to avoid your continued attention."

While Adolphe might have concerned himself with Lady Huntleigh's state of mind a few days ago, her wishes were irrelevant at this juncture. However, there was no need to encourage speculation.

"Another woman?"

"The bit of muslin who just left through the trees. I already knew you were no man of honor, but I am sure Bella—Lady Huntleigh—will be very interested to know."

Adolphe tugged at the lower edge of his jacket, aligning it perpendicular to the placket of his trousers, "I have spoken to no other woman and if you are of a mind to call me out, Sir, I suggest you remember you have no claim to defend. I, on the other hand, can challenge you for your effrontery without impugning the lady's honor at all." He pulled his gloves from his pocket and gracefully pulled on the left, pointedly leaving the other hanging loosely in his right hand, ready to slap Nick with it in formal challenge.

Before Adolphe could even take a step forward, Wellbridge pulled his fist back and it flew into his face, knocking him flat on his back just off the path, the glove flying through the air and landing at the base of the tree he had been using as a bed. Adolphe didn't even have time for outrage before the cochon spat in his face.

"I have no need of swords or pistols, you malevolent Frog. You seem to think me more gentleman than I am, so let me enlighten you, 'mon ami.' My boots have kicked men to shards in the worst slums in the world. I can kill and bury you before anyone knows you are gone."

"Wellbridge!" Wellbridge's head turned at the sound of half a dozen men and at least as many ladies coming down the path, allowing Adolphe to roll away onto his side and rise to his knees, glove and shirtfront covered in the blood spurting from his nose.

"I know it is tempting to knock a Frenchman on his derrière, but you will make a shambles of my party."

Nick bowed as low as he could manage while short of breath, leaving Adolphe to stand under his own power or remain kneeling at his opponent's feet.

"Your Majesty," Wellbridge fawned before Prinny, the fat fool, "I apologize for the disruption, but I thought it comparatively more prudent than an illegal duel or outright murder." Murder! As though a coward like Wellbridge had the stomach for murder. He had made it clear only moments ago, he would not even fight on the field of honor.

"A duel!" Prinny's eyes glowed as Malbourne stood slowly, the right side of his face already swelling and surely bruised. "What quarrel is this? Have you come to fisticuffs over a woman? It must be a woman," he said, turning to his companions, "for Wellbridge hardly raises his voice but to defend the deservedly downtrodden or a lady's honor. I'll place ten guineas on it. Anyone?" All of his companions backed away from a bet they couldn't win.

Adolphe groaned internally at the gossip Prinny's set—Wellbridge's set, according to Michelle—would make of this. Fortunately, the miserable dog had a moment of good sense and made an excuse. "It is nothing, Sire. A disagreement gone awry after too much arrack-punch."

On second thought, perhaps he could remove Wellbridge from the contest entirely. Adolphe shook his head, setting off more pain in his back teeth. "This is not so, Your Majesty. He has attacked with no grounds, and I insist he be arrested for breaking the king's peace."

Prinny laughed heartily. "It is my peace, Malbourne, and I decide when it is broken. Care to make a case, Wellbridge?"

"No, Sire, I would not. I would not besmirch the lady's name."

Prinny eyed Wellbridge with far too much interest. "I will have the story from you sooner or later, you know. Take yourself off, then. Whomever the young lady and whatever Malbourne has done, you'd be better off seeing to her than beating another peer half to death." As though Wellbridge had any chance of stopping plans already in motion.

"And you, Sir," the king said, turning to Adolphe, adding insult to injury by an admonition, "would do best to stay away from any woman under Wellbridge's protection. Even I, with an army at my disposal, might remove myself from the duke's company when his temper takes a pugilistic turn."

Prinny held out his arm for Lady Conyngham, who had shrunk away from the conflict, knotted into a circle with the other ladies a few steps away. "My dear, shall we continue our promenade? I assure you," Prinny glared at both men as they backed away in opposite directions, "there is no danger here."