Page 83 of Holding Onto Love

“Hilyer, get out.” Prinny sounded miffed. Worse than miffed. Annoyed. “You were not invited, and you are not welcome. Certainly not in our presence.”

Cut by the Prince Regent himself! Jasper marveled. How in God’s name had Hazard inveigled Prinny’s cooperation to this degree?

Hilyer stared, slack jawed, with a regrettable strawberry blooming on that jaw. Or maybe not so regrettable. Hazard had evidently promised Prinny a fistfight. Hazard must have anticipated that Hilyer would insult Vanessa, as well as Jasper’s violent response. He wished he’d laid him flat. He could permissibly beat the man bloody with the Prince Regent urging him on.

At just the right moment, a very large porter appeared in the doorway.

“Pardon, Lord Haslet. Mr. Albert sent me to see if there was a disturbance.”

“Yes, thank you. Please escort that man out.” He gestured dismissively to Hilyer.

“Don’t touch me!” Hilyer said, shaking off the porter’s hand. “I’ve been a member here since before you were born. I’ll lodge a complaint and you’ll be out on your arse.”

Jasper said quickly, “I suppose he might remain in the Subscription Room where he won’t bother Lord Haslet’s guests.”

Hazard shot him a look. The plan had been to remove Hilyer bodily. He nodded slowly. “I don’t care. So long as he ceases to impose.”

Hilyer tried to gather his shredded dignity and turned, to find Caro in his way.

Loudly, with a thicker accent than he’d used earlier, and with a fine display of drunken ill humor, Caro said, “Good. Give me a chance to even the score. Back to the table, vecchio sporco.”

The door closed behind them. Jasper hurried to the window and dug out the bottle. He straightened to find himself nearly flush against Hazard.

“Do not challenge him, Jasper. Do not. I don’t care what he called Mrs. Wardrip. It isn’t worth you ending up dead or a murderer.”

“I’m not calling him out.”

“Then what?”

“I’m just going to rub salt in the wound.”

“Jasper—”

“Don’t draw attention, Haz. Let me go.”

Hazard stepped back. He looked angry and worried, but Jasper brushed past. He wove his way to the door and reentered the Great Subscription Room. Hilyer and Caro were alone in the vast gaming hall. Caro was slapping down cards and muttering drunkenly.

Jasper swiped three glasses from the bar and approached. Hilyer looked up and glared.

“I don’t know what you think you and that—”

“Here.” Jasper set a glass in front of him, then one in front of Caro. He pulled up a chair but didn’t sit down. He might as well use his body to intimidate. “I thought I would give you an opportunity to retract your words. I understand your pique. After all, she preferred to sleep on the wet Portuguese ground and be shot at by frogs than be your marchioness.”

“Used goods. You’re welcome to them.”

Jasper refused to take the bait. Instead, he broke the wax seal and uncorked the bottle. He sloshed fluid into all three glasses.

“Go on,” he said. “Drink with me. I think it will be better for all if we put this behind us.”

Caro put a hand on his glass, but rather than lift it, he let his head drop onto his arm, face smashed against the table, and let out a tremendous snore.

Hilyer sneered at him, then picked up the glass and squinted. Jasper had tried soaking a bit of charred wood in the water jug overnight, but it hadn’t imparted much color to the liquid. Hilyer sniffed, then sipped. Then set down the glass with a thud.

“Disappointed?” Jasper asked. “Imagine how our men on the Peninsula felt when they got water instead of grog. Crushing soldiers’ morale is aiding and abetting the enemy.”

Hilyer’s head shot up, startled. Then he narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t you? Let me help. The barrels came from Ireland.”