A Most Mysterious Gentleman (#1 Sweet Nineteenth Series) VERY SLOW UPDATES

AMMG ~13~

The Duke boggled at the insolence and impertinence of his future son-in-law. He narrowed his eyes, the more and more he found out about the gentleman, the less he liked about him.

Still, things relied on this marriage, and he wasn't a man to go back on his word to the Earl of Rochester, the incident had happened underneath his house for goodness sakes. And that blasted Wentworth had seen it as well. Thankfully he'd had the sense not to spread the gossip.

But now he was standing in Richmond Manor, his daughter having lost part of her leg, then seemingly been kidnapped by her betrothed who was, at the moment in time, touching her back. Her betrothed, the one who had compromised her, and also been a small cause to the loss of her leg.

The more he thought about it, and the more he looked at his precious daughter's face, the more furious he felt.

"Get out and draw your sword Richmond."

Rosalie's eyes widened, she'd heard her father say something, but she wasn't sure what she'd thought she'd heard. She felt Henry stiffen, his muscles turn rock solid at the words though.

It couldn't be.

Henry snarled at the words, and she envisioned him as an angry tiger, like the one she had seen at the performing act at Lady Edgemere's soiree. He did nothing to act unlike her thoughts as he almost stealthily got up from beside her, the scar on his neck standing out from the shadows caused by the candlelight.

"You think that challenging the King's blood with an illegal duel will dampen your temper Trent? Your daughter's betrothed no less? Think of the scandal." His eyes glinted with restless energy.

Rosalie didn't know much about him, but she recognized this look and dreaded the outcome and the barbs of the words that she knew would accompany them.

"You're just a boy Richmond, you know nothing. I happen to know the King rather favours me himself parsay."

"Boy enough to deal with the international affairs of our country? You meddle with the affairs of innocent maidens and their marriages, whereas I kill men for the good of the nation. And you seek to challenge me with a sword? You know, as your sources would have likely revealed to you, I am one of the most proficient men in England with a sword, hand to hand, and even with a pistol, which is my last resort to a weapon of choice."

Rosalie shook at the words. He sounded so dangerous.

He killed people?

She'd experienced the dashing soldier in novels who'd eventually rescue the beautiful heroine , but the way he'd said it, so cruel, detached, icy. This was nothing like a soldier although he's spoken of international affairs.

She'd onced kissed a soldier, and he was warm and inviting and lost all at the same time. Like a child who'd grown up to fast and gone to fight in a war to kill other men that had the same purpose.

Henry sounded nothing like that soldier.

Just when she thought she might be able to tolerate the man, where they might have mutual respect and admiration for each other, he'd shown his true colours. She'd never cried so much in her entire life before this month, but she felt the water brimming below her eyelids once again.

He'd said so much when they'd met at the ball.

The only way to survive. Is that what he'd meant, that he'd killed people and would do the same to her?

Henry was aware of Rosalie's sniffling and realised that for the first time in his life he'd never been so loose tongued. His superior and the King would be furious with him. He might be sent to France for a month for negotiations if he was lucky.

Blast it all!

The Duke before him stood still with mouth agape, anger dissipated. "So it's true then? The rumours I mean?"

Henry felt his shoulders slump and the muscle in his jaw twitched. "Yes. Though I'm not sure which rumours you have heard. I have many covers, and therefore many scandals attached to my name."

Weakness shown fleetingly, the Duke visibly straightened up smoothing his hair from his forehead. "Very well. I am here to deal with the matter in hand, which is my daughter. When is the physician arriving?"

"Any minute now my lord."

The Duke startled, having forgotten Stephen was there.

"Ah, yes, of course. I would rather remain in the bedchamber whilst you were with her though next Richmond."

Henry scowled again, "You believe I would seduce your daughter whilst she was ill?"

The Duke blanched at the words. "No, but it is propriety my boy."

"Of course. So you believe she would let me and even encourage me seducing her?" He did not know what had caused the words to spill out of his mouth, and did not believe it either, but regreted it when he heard a rustling and a small figure launched at him in a stained nightgown battering him with weak punches and flails.

"How dare you talk about me like i'm not here and accuse me of such things you-you-you blackguard!"

A punch to the groin meant his arms automatically went round her waist to stop her, and carrying the feverish, shaking and crying woman to the bed he sat down with her seated on his lap.

The Duke went to make a noise of protest, but Henry silenced him with his well known cold stare.

His head lowered gently to whisper sweet nothings in her ear to calm her, to stop the shaking, that he could only imagine had come from his words before.

Ah, well at least that ordeal was over now that she could guess at his occupation. He wasn't strictly allowed to tell her, but he was sure that she would assume he was a Captain or some other high up army official. It would help to explain his foreign excursions once they were married, he could say it was troop defense movement issues.

She was still hitting him in the shoulder with her right hand, though weakly due to her fever, so he grasped it and looped her fingers through his, still whispering and drawing her hair back from her wet face.

He could see Stephen's smirk at him, laughing at his attempts to console the lady. He scowled, mentally berating his valet in his head and setting a date, time and place for a boxing match in which he would be certain to give him a blackeye. Or go for the nose. Stephen's was too pretty anyway.

And the strange scene of a young man and woman of society close together, with the Father and a valet watching on, was the first to assial the physician as he walked through the bedchamber door.