Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Poor one? Lies? I told her she would be a duchess and live in a grand estate. Was she not? Any misery was by her own foolish—”
My fist collided with his face once and then a second time, sending him to the ground. “You and your mother are exactly the same! Vile, gluttonous pigs, using whomever you please as if they were mere ladders for your lives!”
He wiped the blood from his nose. “Us, gluttonous? As if you do not know your own disgusting greed! You took everything, threw us to the wolves, and now you lament the way in which we survive?”
“I took what was mine by right!”
“I am the first—”
“You are a bastard! The son of a butcher’s daughter! You have no right to Everely. You have no right to the nobility! We will not have you. The lot you were given was better than you deserved!”
“Be damned!” he hollered, throwing his fist toward me.
I caught the punch. “Do not mistake me for the younger and smaller one now, Fitzwilliam.”
He replied by grabbing the teapot and throwing it at my head. When his hand reached around my neck, I took a shard of the broken teapot and slashed it across his cheek, throwing him off me.
The door burst open and the magistrate yelled, “What in God’s name!” He saw our fists raised and our clothes bloodied. “Lord Everely?”
“Forgive me, sir, for intruding. I came to divulge information of the highest importance. But I was greatly put off by your guest. I must go. Please feel free to send me the bill for any and all damage,” I grumbled as I pushed past Fitzwilliam toward the door.
“Everything you took from me, I shall see it returned,” Fitzwilliam snapped.
“Then you shall have nothing as I remind you once more that you were given nothing,” I said and walked into the hall in which three men, two of them witnesses of the scuffle, stood waiting with eyes wide. The third, however, was an unexpected face, coming down the stairs with a bag in hand—Dr. Darrington.
“You will need to wrap that hand, Your Grace,” he said, eyeing my excruciating red knuckles.
I hid it behind my back and looked at the two men, the first, Mr. Danvers, the witness to the duel I’d had with Emma’s father, and the second, Mr. Lyndon, a lawyer who could attest to seeing Fitzwilliam claim to be me. “I believe it best we come another time. I thank you for your patience, gentlemen.”
“It is best to have all this put to rest, once and for all, Your Grace,” Mr. Danvers said as he placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Should you need us again, we shall be here. You need not worry. We stand with you, Your Grace,” Mr. Lyndon said.
“Thank you. Good day to you all,” I said. They followed the butler toward the door, leaving me with the doctor, who still stood waiting. “Yes?”
“You are in need of treatment. Where else were you struck?”
“I am quite fine, thank you,” I said.
“Doctor!” a maid at the door called for him. “Mr. Topwells is in need of your help once you have seen to the duke.”
“I am fine. Good day,” I snapped, showing myself out.
I did not dare look at anyone as I stepped into my carriage, grateful I’d thought to bring it instead of a horse.
“To the house,” I spat out. Inside, I reached under my coat to feel the wound at my side on my rib.
Inhaling through my nose, I closed my eyes, wishing to calm myself. I knew Fitzwilliam was not capable of remorse, but now that I had seen him, it was even clearer that he had not returned only to provoke me, he still truly believed himself to be the rightful owner of Everely and my title. The man had secured himself a rich wife, and still…still, he desired more. He desired what was mine.
Curse him.
Damn him.
To eternal fire with him.
29
Aphrodite
I had been waiting for his return, and when he did, tattered and bruised, I found myself in shock. Had he gone for a boxing match or had he gone to see a magistrate? He glanced at me, defeated, and said not a word as he walked up the stairs.
“Eleanor, have a maid fetch water, cloth, and brandy while you call for the doctor,” I said, grabbing my skirt as I went up the stairs behind him.
I did not rush him. I merely followed until we had reached the safety and privacy of our rooms. Still, he said nothing, but walked to the chair by the fireplace, sat down, and closed his eyes. I placed my hand gently on his face, and he winced.
“What on earth happened to you?”
“Fitzwilliam was there and…and we reacted as we often have when we are in the same room—in violence. There can be no other way. He is my enemy, and I am his.”