allow the lady to choose whether she prefers my company or yours, Stratfield.” The earl looked at Ruth with a confident expression. “My dear Lady Ruth. Might I have the pleasure of calling on you tomorrow?”
“I . . . I’m afraid I have—”
“She’s already agreed to accompany me on a drive out of the city tomorrow, Wycombe.”
“Then the day after perhaps?”
The earl persisted as he took Ruth’s hand in his and sent her a confident look. Wycombe’s arrogance sent a blast of fury through him. The bastard simply wanted Ruth because she was with him. The moment Wycombe secured her attention he’d discard her without a second thought.
“The lady will be occupied for quite some time to come, Wycombe,” he said between clenched teeth.
“You seem quite certain of her, Stratfield.”
“Ruth is an intelligent woman. Even if her time wasn’t going to be occupied, I am confident she’d have the good sense God gave her not to accept the attentions of a buffoon .”
Garrick immediately regretted losing his temper. Despite the fact that he’d kept his voice low, he was suddenly aware of the curious eyes watching them. Bloody hell, the Set will be rife with gossip by morning. Outrage darkened Wycombe’s face. Either the earl didn’t realize they were being watched or he didn’t care.
“If the woman were intelligent, she’d know she was being used by you to make everyone think you a womanizer, when we both know you’re something else entirely,” Wycombe sneered with contempt.
He barely heard Ruth’s gasp of shock as a lethal fury blazed through him at Wycombe’s insult and its veiled implication. It didn’t matter that the bastard hadn’t outright denounced him as a sodomite. It was enough to seed doubt, and the man had said it within hearing distance of at least a dozen people. The bastard had also insulted Ruth. He took a quick step toward the earl, who went rigid with surprise and more than a hint of fear.
“Apologize, Wycombe, or God help me, I’ll make you regret your words in the worst way possible,” he said in a deadly tone that made the man blanch. Despite his evident fear, the man hesitated and Garrick released a low growl of fury. “Now.”
The earl turned to Ruth and gave her a slight bow. “My apologies, my lady. I allowed my temper to get out of hand and insulted you unintentionally.”
Then with a defiant look in Garrick’s direction, the earl whirled around and stalked away without expressing any regret for the innuendo he’d openly made in public. Garrick watched him retreat with an icy rage he’d not experienced since the day he’d found Tremaine threatening Mary. He wanted to kill Wycombe. The bastard hadn’t apologized for implying he was a sodomite, and the speculation and curiosity on the faces of the small crowd that had observed the altercation angered him even more. His fingers tightened on Ruth’s elbow as he caught the eye of an acquaintance from the Marlborough Club. The man gave him a nod of greeting, but the obvious support did little to ease his fury.
“Come,” he said in a curt voice.
Ruth didn’t argue and kept pace with him as his angry strides ate up the distance between them and the small, intimate carriage. When they reached it, he helped her up into the enclosed vehicle then joined her. Seconds later, the Berline moved out into the heavy after-theatre traffic.
Wycombe’s words swirled in his head in an insidious serpentine manner that only kept his rage flowing hot through his blood. As he stared out the window of the carriage, the earl’s veiled accusation reverberated in his head. Following close on the heels of that memory was the man’s statement that he was merely using Ruth for his own ends.
There was a measure of truth in those words, and it wasn’t sitting well with Garrick’s conscience. It wasn’t his habit to use others like he was using Ruth. Even with Wycombe’s malicious insinuation, he was well aware that his
“I . . . I’m afraid I have—”
“She’s already agreed to accompany me on a drive out of the city tomorrow, Wycombe.”
“Then the day after perhaps?”
The earl persisted as he took Ruth’s hand in his and sent her a confident look. Wycombe’s arrogance sent a blast of fury through him. The bastard simply wanted Ruth because she was with him. The moment Wycombe secured her attention he’d discard her without a second thought.
“The lady will be occupied for quite some time to come, Wycombe,” he said between clenched teeth.
“You seem quite certain of her, Stratfield.”
“Ruth is an intelligent woman. Even if her time wasn’t going to be occupied, I am confident she’d have the good sense God gave her not to accept the attentions of a buffoon .”
Garrick immediately regretted losing his temper. Despite the fact that he’d kept his voice low, he was suddenly aware of the curious eyes watching them. Bloody hell, the Set will be rife with gossip by morning. Outrage darkened Wycombe’s face. Either the earl didn’t realize they were being watched or he didn’t care.
“If the woman were intelligent, she’d know she was being used by you to make everyone think you a womanizer, when we both know you’re something else entirely,” Wycombe sneered with contempt.
He barely heard Ruth’s gasp of shock as a lethal fury blazed through him at Wycombe’s insult and its veiled implication. It didn’t matter that the bastard hadn’t outright denounced him as a sodomite. It was enough to seed doubt, and the man had said it within hearing distance of at least a dozen people. The bastard had also insulted Ruth. He took a quick step toward the earl, who went rigid with surprise and more than a hint of fear.
“Apologize, Wycombe, or God help me, I’ll make you regret your words in the worst way possible,” he said in a deadly tone that made the man blanch. Despite his evident fear, the man hesitated and Garrick released a low growl of fury. “Now.”
The earl turned to Ruth and gave her a slight bow. “My apologies, my lady. I allowed my temper to get out of hand and insulted you unintentionally.”
Then with a defiant look in Garrick’s direction, the earl whirled around and stalked away without expressing any regret for the innuendo he’d openly made in public. Garrick watched him retreat with an icy rage he’d not experienced since the day he’d found Tremaine threatening Mary. He wanted to kill Wycombe. The bastard hadn’t apologized for implying he was a sodomite, and the speculation and curiosity on the faces of the small crowd that had observed the altercation angered him even more. His fingers tightened on Ruth’s elbow as he caught the eye of an acquaintance from the Marlborough Club. The man gave him a nod of greeting, but the obvious support did little to ease his fury.
“Come,” he said in a curt voice.
Ruth didn’t argue and kept pace with him as his angry strides ate up the distance between them and the small, intimate carriage. When they reached it, he helped her up into the enclosed vehicle then joined her. Seconds later, the Berline moved out into the heavy after-theatre traffic.
Wycombe’s words swirled in his head in an insidious serpentine manner that only kept his rage flowing hot through his blood. As he stared out the window of the carriage, the earl’s veiled accusation reverberated in his head. Following close on the heels of that memory was the man’s statement that he was merely using Ruth for his own ends.
There was a measure of truth in those words, and it wasn’t sitting well with Garrick’s conscience. It wasn’t his habit to use others like he was using Ruth. Even with Wycombe’s malicious insinuation, he was well aware that his
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