fifty-odd pairs of eyes staring them into the polished wood floor. His skin prickled with the attention of the crowd and he fell back a step, pulling his thoughts into some kind of order. He had been clenching his jaw so hard, the muscles of his head and neck pulsed with pain. “I demand an apology, Smythe.”
“I think not,” the captain shot back. “I only apologize if I’m incorrect.”
Angrily, Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself just in time. However many eyes were on him, there were just as many ears. There was no way he could repeat the specifics in public. “You lie. You were simply making mischief.”
He glanced up quickly, unwilling to let his attention wander from Smythe for long. But in that brief survey of the company, he’d seen Imogen, tall and delicate as a lily among the dark coats of her suitors. There had been anxiety in her soft gray eyes—and he hoped it had been for him. He prayed to whatever gods still watched lovers that she hadn’t closed her mind to everything but what Smythe had said.
“Then we should settle this like gentlemen,” Smythe said grimly.
“Gentlemen?” Bucky scoffed. The man strained the definition.
“I’m being generous with your breeding,” Smythe shot back.
Bucky remembered the moment at Lady Porter’s when Imogen had turned and walkedaway, distress in the set of her shoulders, in the line of her graceful back. Bucky hit Smythe again, just because. If the captain wanted a fight, he had one.
Bucky bent down, his face inches from Smythe’s. The man’s nose looked wrong and was streaming blood in a bubbling mass. He’d clearly broken it. A hot rush of revulsion and satisfaction heated Bucky’s entire frame. “You’d better be planning to unravel this knot you’ve made,” he growled.
Smythe curled his lip, revealing bloody teeth. “Beating me senseless won’t prove a thing.”
“According to your logic, women love a victor and hate a coward. Maybe a beating is just the thing.”
“Then I demand satisfaction, and I have a box of lucky bullets with your name on them.”
The moment went to Bucky’s head, drugging him with a sense of invincibility. “So be it.”
* * *
“Surely you are in jest!” Imogen cried. “Captain Smythe to call on me? Surely he won’t be going out in public! His face is going to be black and blue after Mr. Penner hit him.”
“Then don’t you think he deserves your sympathy?” her mother asked pointedly.
“I doubt it. I
know
he had something to do with that fracas at the ball last night.” And it annoyed her enormously that no one would tell her the details.
Lady Bancroft had the same fair coloring as Imogen, and the same tall, slender frame as all her children. She always dressed in pale hues, which unfortunately made her seem translucent as ice, especially against the dark burgundy hues of the sitting room. “And yet it was young Mr.Penner our host showed to the door,” Lady Bancroft said briskly. “Are you saying the Earl of Hendon was in error?”
Because an earl obviously can’t be wrong. Their blue blood won’t allow it
. Imogen suddenly realized why heroines stamped their feet, wrung their hands, and made all of those other witless, futile gestures. It was hard to be furious in a ladylike fashion. She took a gulp of air and tried to reason with her mother. “The earl does not know Bucky as I do. As you do. Bucky’s been Tobias’s best friend and a visitor to this house for years. You know he wouldn’t get into a fight without good cause.”
Then she realized she was defending Bucky, and sadness rushed in like a tide. She’d hoped he’d find a way to speak to her after that awful afternoon at Lady Porter’s, but he hadn’t. Not that there had been much chance—they’d left for the country soon after—but …
She’d wanted him to prove to her she was his one true love. Sadly, that was the stuff of storybooks, and Imogen was rapidly learning that the world didn’t work
“I think not,” the captain shot back. “I only apologize if I’m incorrect.”
Angrily, Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself just in time. However many eyes were on him, there were just as many ears. There was no way he could repeat the specifics in public. “You lie. You were simply making mischief.”
He glanced up quickly, unwilling to let his attention wander from Smythe for long. But in that brief survey of the company, he’d seen Imogen, tall and delicate as a lily among the dark coats of her suitors. There had been anxiety in her soft gray eyes—and he hoped it had been for him. He prayed to whatever gods still watched lovers that she hadn’t closed her mind to everything but what Smythe had said.
“Then we should settle this like gentlemen,” Smythe said grimly.
“Gentlemen?” Bucky scoffed. The man strained the definition.
“I’m being generous with your breeding,” Smythe shot back.
Bucky remembered the moment at Lady Porter’s when Imogen had turned and walkedaway, distress in the set of her shoulders, in the line of her graceful back. Bucky hit Smythe again, just because. If the captain wanted a fight, he had one.
Bucky bent down, his face inches from Smythe’s. The man’s nose looked wrong and was streaming blood in a bubbling mass. He’d clearly broken it. A hot rush of revulsion and satisfaction heated Bucky’s entire frame. “You’d better be planning to unravel this knot you’ve made,” he growled.
Smythe curled his lip, revealing bloody teeth. “Beating me senseless won’t prove a thing.”
“According to your logic, women love a victor and hate a coward. Maybe a beating is just the thing.”
“Then I demand satisfaction, and I have a box of lucky bullets with your name on them.”
The moment went to Bucky’s head, drugging him with a sense of invincibility. “So be it.”
* * *
“Surely you are in jest!” Imogen cried. “Captain Smythe to call on me? Surely he won’t be going out in public! His face is going to be black and blue after Mr. Penner hit him.”
“Then don’t you think he deserves your sympathy?” her mother asked pointedly.
“I doubt it. I
know
he had something to do with that fracas at the ball last night.” And it annoyed her enormously that no one would tell her the details.
Lady Bancroft had the same fair coloring as Imogen, and the same tall, slender frame as all her children. She always dressed in pale hues, which unfortunately made her seem translucent as ice, especially against the dark burgundy hues of the sitting room. “And yet it was young Mr.Penner our host showed to the door,” Lady Bancroft said briskly. “Are you saying the Earl of Hendon was in error?”
Because an earl obviously can’t be wrong. Their blue blood won’t allow it
. Imogen suddenly realized why heroines stamped their feet, wrung their hands, and made all of those other witless, futile gestures. It was hard to be furious in a ladylike fashion. She took a gulp of air and tried to reason with her mother. “The earl does not know Bucky as I do. As you do. Bucky’s been Tobias’s best friend and a visitor to this house for years. You know he wouldn’t get into a fight without good cause.”
Then she realized she was defending Bucky, and sadness rushed in like a tide. She’d hoped he’d find a way to speak to her after that awful afternoon at Lady Porter’s, but he hadn’t. Not that there had been much chance—they’d left for the country soon after—but …
She’d wanted him to prove to her she was his one true love. Sadly, that was the stuff of storybooks, and Imogen was rapidly learning that the world didn’t work
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