CHAPTER 26
HAVING LUNCH WITH Afriend shouldn’t be a problem. Colin reflected grimly a month later as he sat across from Gabriel at White’s. And it hadn’t been. Until now.
He had been having a perfectly enjoyable conversation with Gabriel. Old friends getting reacquainted and catching on their lives. They had both lived out of the country for many years and had recently inherited their titles and returned to England. They had both found their inherited estates in shambles and had been busy cleaning up the mess their predecessors had created.
Despite the talk of troubles and tribulations, they had found a sort of comfort in the camaraderie. Then this idiot showed up. It only took Colin a moment to recognize him, even though the years had effected changes in the features of his childhood tormentor.
He guessed some ladies might consider him handsome, with his fashionable hair style and athletic physique. But the small, mean eyes, the thin lips and wide, slightly protruding forehead were the same he remembered from his school years.
It gave him a very unintelligent look, and Colin wondered for the first time if the man was completely normal. Clothes that were stylish to the point of flamboyance and looked somewhat discordant with his mean face, enhanced his incongruent look.
The bullheaded prick approached their table. Of course he did. Colin sighed. He was not afraid of this buffoon anymore, would relish nothing more than giving him a sound thrashing. But this was not the time or the place. They were in White’s, for goodness’ sake.
“Hartfield,” the buffoon intoned, smiling with fake affability as he approached their table. “And Brentworth. Imagine finding you two again together. After so many years.”
Colin narrowed his eyes with undisguised hostility, while Gabriel straightened in his chair. Neither of them smiled back.
“Milford.” Gabriel gave the barest of nods. Insulting, really. Colin didn’t even acknowledge him.
“It is Baron Quimby now.” The pompous ass replied. “Mind if I join you for lunch?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Colin replied. “We are having a private conversation.” Who the hell did this jackass think he was?
“Oh, I’m sorry. Wouldn’t want to interrupt a private conversation betweenintimatefriends.” Quimby replied nastily. The emphasis on ‘intimate,’ imbuing the word with innuendo.
“Be very careful, Quimby.” Colin replied in frosty accents, while Gabriel pinned him with a murderous glare. “We are not children anymore. Although apparently some never abandon their childish ways.”
Any intelligent man would have abandoned the conversation at this point. But as he had already realized, Quimby was decidedly slow.
“Oh? Is that so? Maybe you speak from experience,” Quimby intoned in an overloud voice for all to hear. “Tell me, Hartfield, have you abandoned your penchant for wearing women’s undergarments?”
Their chairs scraped back violently as Colin and Gabriel stood up at the same time. Colin noted with some surprise that he was taller than Quimby by several inches. It wouldn’t have mattered either way. Using the fighting techniques Wang had taught him, he could take down an opponent much bigger than himself, even several of them. Quimby wouldn’t even be a challenge.
The knowledge transformed some of his rage into contemptuous amusement. This guy was not a formidable tormentor. He was just a pathetic loser. Colin gave him a jeering smile.
“It was a brace, Quimby.” He said, talking slowly and enunciating clearly, as one would address a very young child or a cretin. “You know, for my back. Of course, your confusion is understandable for someone who has never seen actual women’s undergarments.”
He saw Gabriel sneer and someone smothered a laugh. Quimby went red. With embarrassment or fury? Perhaps a mix of both? He didn’t know and didn’t care. He was prepared for whatever this moron did next. Which, as it turned out, was an idiotic thing. He tried to punch him.
Colin almost laughed at the feeble attempt. His hand moved instinctively and caught the fist, while his foot struck lightning fast to curl around the other man’s leg and tumble him unceremoniously to the ground. A reaction born of hours of training. So fast and effortless that Quimby landed in a heap at his feet without even knowing what had happened to him.
