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“I can see you, and I have a knife,” Lord Ponsby snapped.
Richard chuckled. “I would like a word, Ponsby.”
“Westfall?”
“Hmmm.”
“Good God, man, you gave me a fright.”
“Did I now?”
He strolled over, distantly admiring the glint of silver across the pond. This much closer, he could see the frown on the viscount’s face. Richard did not face him. Instead, he shifted, so they stood shoulder by shoulder.
“To what do I owe your unexpected company?” Ponsby asked, taking a long pull on his cigar.
“Hmm.” Richard supposed there was no discreet way around the matter, and he would simply need to be blunt. “You will not make an offer for Lady Evie. You will not call upon her, and you will no longer dance with her at balls. Is that understood?”
There was a pulse of silence then a startled laugh from the viscount. “Devil take it, man, surely you are jesting.”
“No…no, I am not. Disobey me in this, and I promise, you will suffer the consequences.”
Lord Ponsby tensed at the not too subtle threat. “You know, in some of our clubs, the men speak of her being your mistress. There is rife speculation as to why a vision as lovely as Lady Evelyn is unmarried at twenty-two. Some say you plucked her from the tender age of s
ixteen. I’ve always discounted the rumors, but now I wonder…have you been tasting from her nectar, is that why I am being warned?” he murmured, a hard smile curving his lips.
With a slight flick of his wrist, Richard had the hidden knife resting comfortably in the palm of his hand. He turned his head, contemplating the viscount with a curious detachment. “I wonder how you would fare without a tongue in your mouth.”
The man frowned and moved back a step. “Look, Westfall,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “Unless you lay claim upon the lady, you have no cause to warn me away. My intentions are purely honorable. I do intend to marry her for she has my deepest admiration.”
Richard caressed the blade of his knife. “I know your secrets, Ponsby. I know your depraved heart and desires. You are not fit to lick Lady Evie’s boots; hence you will stay away from her.”
A sharp intake of breath pierced the air.
“I know not of what you speak,” he said stiffly.
“Madame Tulane.”
A growl of fury emitted from the viscount. “You goddamned bastard,” he snarled and rushed at Richard.
He flipped him, and before the viscount could recover, Richard had him in a one-arm choke lock, and with the other hand, he held the blade of his knife pressed against Ponsby’s sternum. “Easy,” Richard murmured. “Do not give me a reason to slit your throat and be done with it. Your mother and sisters are fond of your presence in their lives. I would hate to send them into mourning.”
The viscount froze, his chest rising with rapid breaths. “My family must not know. They cannot know.”
The fear of society learning of his proclivities throbbed in his voice. Little did Ponsby know how many of his depraved ilk were present in the ballroom in the far distance.
“My concern is Lady Evie, Ponsby.”
A shudder worked itself through his body. “Done.”
Richard grunted at his easy capitulation, the spineless knave. “You will be delicate with your withdrawal. No hint of scandal will mar her name, are we understood?”
“Yes. And do I have your word my secret is safe?”
“You do.” He pressed the knife deeper against the viscount, the sharp blade cutting into his shirt to meet his flesh. “Do not make an enemy of me, Ponsby. I know your dark desires. You’ve only crossed my path because of Lady Evie. It would be a mortal mistake to lash out in your humiliation. I will kill you, without regrets. Do we understand each other?”
“We do,” the viscount said, voice trembling.
“Good.”
