Chapter 25 #2
After speaking with Lady Natalie at the ball, Michael had made his excuses to the countess and then left with Danbury. Plans had been put into motion. All he could do at that point was wait.
And so, of course, the logical thing to do was open a twenty-year-old bottle of scotch and get rip-roaring, skunk-devilled drunk. Danbury happily participated.
But now that morning had come, Michael questioned his reasoning of the night before.
Especially with the thick green drink, promising to cure all, sitting before each of them at the table.
“Bloody hell!” Danbury rose from his seat. He’d been perusing the morning broadsheets.
Glaring at the offensive article, he dropped back into his chair and tossed it onto the table in front of Michael.
Michael read through the vicious ramblings and then chucked it onto the table himself.
He’d had enough. “Damn him to hell!” He grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms into the sleeves, not caring whether his shirt wrinkled horribly beneath it or not.
Danbury met his gaze with his own bloodshot eyes. “Where are you going?”
Michael had no patience left. “Damn Hawthorne! He will pay for this!” Unwilling to waste even a moment longer, Michael ignored Hugh’s halfhearted attempt to calm him down and slammed out of the house.
With anger seething inside him, Michael hadn’t the patience to wait for the coachman to bring the vehicle around. Instead, he headed toward Hawthorne’s London town house on foot. The bastard had done it! He’d hurt Lilly.
Hawthorne would pay.
Marching determinedly, adrenaline pushing him, Michael arrived at the earl’s door in less than ten minutes. And when the door opened, he swept past the butler and demanded, “Hawthorne! I will see him now!”
The butler didn’t answer but looked nervously over his shoulder at a closed door.
With murder on his mind, Michael pushed past the elderly retainer and threw open the door. There he discovered Hawthorne lounging on a loveseat with a pipe in one hand and a copy of the newspaper in the other.
The idiot ought to have wiped the smirk from his face. Michael crossed the room, grabbed the man’s pristine cravat, and pulled the whey-faced miscreant off his chair.
Hawthorne laughed nervously, attempting to gain some control of the situation. “Ah, perhaps my initial assumption was correct after all. It was you, not the viscount, in the gazebo with her.”
Michael pushed Hawthorne’s rail-thin frame up higher, barely aware that the man’s toes now dangled in the air. Making a choking sound, the earl began experiencing the effects of his cravat tightening about his windpipe.
“Hawthorne, do you know what it means to be a duke?”
The bastard gawked at him, eyes bugging out of his head, thin lips trembling.
“It means anything I say will be believed. It means I can kill you and walk away freely.” Michael adjusted his grip menacingly. “It means I can buy off every damn one of your servants so no word is ever mentioned regarding my presence here this morning.”
The earl’s complexion had changed from pasty white to a reddish-purple color.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry, Your Grace,” he sputtered tightly.
Michael twisted the cravat and lifted the man even higher.
As the spineless earl struggled to breathe, Michael’s fury diminished slightly.
He could not, in fact, kill the man, as much as he was wont to do so.
Some awareness returned, and the red haze that clouded his vision dimmed slightly.
He released his grip suddenly, and Hawthorne collapsed back onto the chaise.
Michael would not put up with this man’s antics any longer. And with his decision came an icy calmness. He had had enough. “You will leave England today, Hawthorne—that is, if you wish to live.”
“You cannot make me do that!”
“Stealing horses is a hanging offence, you bastard. There are witnesses who will testify on my behalf. The treachery you have attempted will be exposed. Did you realize I assist the Regent with his investments, and he has experienced a great deal of success? I am quite within his favor these days. Did you realize it would take but a word from my dear friend to have your title, your lands, everything stripped from you?” Michael’s voice was that of a duke—arrogant and confident.
This troublemaker who’d plagued him all year would cease to be a problem today.
One way or another.
Hawthorne rubbed his neck fearfully.
“You will leave for the continent today. If you fail to do so, do not be mistaken. My threats aren’t nearly as hellish as my actions will be.”
Hawthorne’s shoulders slumped, and his gaze dropped. He seemed to realize he’d lost. “I will have my carriage prepared immediately, Your Grace.”
Michael nodded but then reached forward with one hand and pulled Hawthorne to his feet. With deadly intent, he pulled back his right arm, fisted his hand slowly…
And broke the man’s nose. Blood streamed onto the ornate carpet covering the floor.
Locating his handkerchief, Michael wiped his hands on it and then tossed it at the earl. “Good day.”
This hadn’t solved the problems caused by the article, but Michael felt better, nonetheless. And he would no longer have to worry Hawthorne might harm Lilly.
Out on the earl’s front step, he studied his fist and then rubbed his knuckles. He should’ve punched the man when he hurt Lilly on the dance floor. It was about time he protected her.
Left alone, the Earl of Hawthorne reached for another handkerchief and shouted for his butler to attend him immediately. Cortland had been a thorn in his side for too long. Given half a chance, the young fool would be the downfall of the aristocracy.
Cortland, a duke no less, obviously didn’t understand the working class were no better than animals. If allowed to prosper, they would turn against their betters and, as had happened in France, ignite an uprising.
“God damn it, that bloody hurts!” Hawthorne flinched as his valet dabbed at him with a wet cloth.
He pushed the servant’s hand away. “Pack my belongings. We’re leaving for the country as soon as possible.
” I’ll be damned if I’m leaving England!
He snatched the cloth away from the servant and then tenderly dabbed at his nostril himself.
Damned idiot domestics, incapable of anything but the simplest of tasks.
He winced, and at the same time realized his nose now leaned slightly to the left. Damn Duke of Cortland had broken it! Hawthorne didn’t know how, or when, but he vowed Cortland would pay for this!