*
Though it wasgrowing late, Roland had gone to the Young Bucks Club thinking he could ascertain just how far this rumor about Lady Viola running off to Gretna Green with a tinker had spread. He also hoped he could gather a series of allies to counter it, if it had taken flight as far as he was afraid it had. After all, her own brother was the founder of the club. There would be nobody against her there.
He’d not found Darden in the rooms. He had not found much of anybody. He had, unfortunately, found Chelderberry. That fellow was as new to the club as he was, and Roland had not liked him from the first. He was an unseasoned fellow just out of school who was a cousin to Harveston.
Harveston was a good friend; Roland had known him since they first started school together. Harveston was something of a scholar and would often explain a thing in a way that was understandable when he found Roland was on the verge of hitting his head against a wall in frustration.
Harveston’s young cousin Chelderberry was not, unfortunately, as fine a fellow. He had a boyish immaturity about him. An annoying boy, at that.
As far as Roland could tell, Chelderberry considered himself quite the wit. He was forever making some cutting comment and Roland thought he’d made a few quiet enemies in the process. It was all well and good for Mr. Brummel to throw round insulting bon mots, but Chelderberry was not Mr. Brummel. He did not have the standing and he did not have the quickness or the cleverness or the facility of language.
As Chelderberry was the only gentleman in the coffee room, Roland asked him if he knew where Lord Darden could be found.
Chelderberry smirked. “Poor Darden,” he said. “He’s rushed off home to make sure his sister is not even now jumping into a carriage and heading to Scotland with a grocer.”
“What?” Roland said, feeling a rage course through him like a wave coming in hard at the shore.
“Well, Gretna Green and all that,” Chelderberry said with a snort.
Seeing that Roland did not seem to appreciate his words, Chelderberry rose. “It was only a joke,” he said.
“No, it was not. Furthermore, it never is. You spend all your time posing as some sort of wit, when in fact you are an immature and spiteful idiot.”
“I say, now!” Chelderberry sputtered.
“We allwishyou would cease saying anything,” Roland said. “And, if I hear Lady Viola’s name on your lips ever again, you will regret it.”
“Will I?” Chelderberry asked, his face tinging pink. “What precisely do you mean to do about it? Get me kicked from the club becauseyoucannot take a joke?”
It would have behooved Roland to walk away at that moment, especially since not an hour ago he’d engaged himself to a duel. He’d got himself in enough trouble for one evening. Chelderberry was not worth his time.
“It’s not my fault that a lady decided to run to Scotland and then change her mind,” Chelderberry said sulkily. “A woman spends days alone in a carriage with some ruffian and we’re all supposed to pretend we didn’t hear it?”
Roland felt himself going blind with rage. He’d never experienced anything like it. He felt as an animal with no reason or judgment.
Then he boxed Chelderberry in the face.
Chapter Twelve
Chelderberry was felledby the surprise of Roland’s punch and collapsed to the floor. He did not stay there though, and before Roland knew it, they were locked in a battle.
They rolled round the floor, both landing punches when they could. Somewhere far in the distance, Roland heard Harveston shout, “Ho! Stop this instant! Blakeley, give me a hand here.”
Lord Blakeley pulled Roland in one direction and Lord Harveston pulled his cousin in another, separating them.
“He threw the first punch,” Chelderberry said, rubbing his jaw.
“It was well-earned,” Roland said, already feeling the skin round his right eye begin to swell. “He has been insulting regarding Lady Viola and I will not stand for it.”
Chelderberry threw his chin up. “It must be difficult to see your lady love has disgraced herself.”
Roland once more felt the blindness of rage come over him. He attempted to lunge at Chelderberry, intending to kill him.
Blakeley held him back.
Harveston smacked his cousin on the head. “You are going right back to the country. I told your mother you were too childish to come to Town this year and she should have listened to me.”
“You can’t send me back!” Chelderberry cried.
