The moment he and Basingstoke arrived at the club, Dylan knew he’d made a mistake. Clayton had been right about the gossip and speculation. As they moved through the crowd, Dylan caught enough of the whispered buzz to realize Natalia’s fall from grace was still the main topic of conversation. His protective instincts rose in proportion to every vicious insult he overheard.
“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” Dylan muttered as Basingstoke led him to an empty table in the corner of the smoking room.
“You’re a legend, my friend.” Basingstoke lit a cigar and took a few puffs before expounding. “Very few men ever attain this sort of notoriety. But don’t worry. It will pass. They’ll find someone else to talk about.”
“Well, I hope it’syou. Then you’ll understand what I’m going through.” Dylan ignored the drink the waiter place before him. He no longer felt like drowning his sorrows.
In fact, the whole vice-ridden atmosphere no longer held much appeal. The heavy cloud of smoke choked him, and the ribald jokes and laughter hurt his ears.
Basingstoke laughed at his willful expression. “I wouldn’t mind, my friend. Not if it meant ending up with what you’ve got—a bride you can’t stop thinking about.”
Dylan smiled, but his momentary good humor faded as he spied Jonathan Taylor on the other side of the room. He and his wastrel friends whispered and pointed in Dylan’s direction.
“That little bastard.” Dylan suddenly remembered his vow to make Jonathan pay for the disgrace he’d brought upon Natalia. “If he’d only kept his mouth shut, no one would have ever known what happened.”
Basingstoke winced and laid a steadying hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Just ignore the little bugger. Don’t let him goad you.”
“You don’t understand.” Dylan thought his voice sounded surprisingly calm, considering the maelstrom of emotions within him. “I have a score to settle with our friend Jonathan. And I might take you up on that offer to act as my second.”
Basingstoke shook his head. “Don’t waste your energy. In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve a wedding to attend in less than a week.”
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about him.” Dylan surged out of his chair and strode across the room.
Basingstoke groaned and hurried to catch up as Dylan made his way through the suddenly quiet crowd. “Just don’t kill him. I refuse to come visit you in Newgate.”
Dylan ignored his friend’s warning and concentrated on the task before him. Besides, he didn’t intend to kill Jonathan—he just planned to make him sorry he’d ever been born.
Jonathan paled a bit as Dylan approached. His slimy confederates quickly slipped away, leaving him alone to face Dylan’s fury. “Blake,” he said, with false enthusiasm. “Good evening.”
“Cut the bloody civility,” Dylan snapped. “You know why I’m here.”
Jonathan cast a quick glance toward Basingstoke, expecting him to intervene. But Julian just shook his head disapprovingly. Frowning, Jonathan returned his attention to Dylan. Apparently, he’d decided to brazen it out. “Have you come to pay your debt? I only saw you dance with the lady once.”
“Yes, but you saw me do far more than dance with her, didn’t you? And you made damn sure everyone in town heard about it.” Dylan kept his voice low. He refused to give the rest of the spoiled young gentlemen who crowded the room any more gossip.
Jonathan smiled. “I may have mentioned your little rendezvous to a few people. Can you blame me? Don’t tell me you weren’t secretly glad to see her ruined, especially after she refused your proposal and told you she never wanted to see you again.”
“Oh, you heard that, did you? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s changed her mind. She’s agreed to become my wife.”
“That’s impossible.” Jonathan paled. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe me. I guess the better man won, after all.”
Jonathan gritted his teeth in impotent frustration. “There’s still the matter of the 200 pounds you owe me.”
“You’re not getting a shilling of it. And if I find out you said even one more damaging word about my bride, I’ll callyouout.” Dylan took another step forward, intimidating Jonathan with his superior height and fiercest glare. “I won’t back down the way you always do.”
Jonathan flinched. “Are you threatening me?”
“Hell, yes.”
Jonathan glanced once again at Basingstoke.
Basingstoke grinned. “Blake is the least of your worries. You’re lucky Clayton hasn’t gone after you. He’s ruined men for far less.”
Jonathan went white as a ghost. While Dylan might be able to hurt him physically, Clayton could hurt him socially. To a parasite like Jonathan, that was even worse.
Jonathan made to leave, but Dylan stopped him once more. “I want you to retract everything you said about her. Publicly. Do you understand?”
