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“What in God’s name is wrong with you?” asked Laxton.
“I’m teaching you a lesson.”
“By allowing me to beat you bloody?”
“This is what you’ve been doing, Laxton. Hitting defenseless people. Battering their reputations with your words.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re speaking of.”
“Don’t you? ‘The best she can hope for is spinster... or courtesan.’ Ring any bells?”
Laxton’s face drained of color. “You heard that?”
“I was listening and by God, if my mate hadn’t been there to stop me, you’d be dead right now.”
“Now, let’s talk about this civilly.” Laxton laughed hoarsely. “You know that was just men being men. Saying what we’ll say at the club. I didn’t really mean it.”
“You’re damn right you didn’t mean it. It’s not true. Blanche may be foolish enough to believe herself to be in love with a jackass like you, but she’d never debase herself in the manner you described.”
“Of course not, of course not. You know how it is. Puffing myself up for the boys.”
“No, I don’t know how it is. I may have gambled away my sisters’ dowries, and wasted my blighted life, but I have a very healthy respect for women and never make the kind of disparaging comments you make so glibly, with no thought to the harm you do to the young lady’s reputation.”
“Those gents won’t repeat it. Westbury, I swear to you. No one will ever know.”
“I’m going to make sure of that.” West crouched into a fighter’s stance. “Fists up, Laxton. This time I’m hitting back.”
Laxton’s laconic facade crumpled like paper. “Don’t hurt me, Westbury.”
“On your mark.”
“You’re mad.”
“Probably. I’m also angry. And that’s a dangerous combination.”
Laxton landed one more punch and West was on him immediately with a crushing blow to the jaw. Laxton staggered backward.
“That was for Blanche.” He followed with a right hook. “And that was for Belinda. And this... this is for me.” The uppercut caught Laxton square in the gut. He sank to his knees, moaning.
West raised his fist, ready to smash it into his nose.
“Don’t break my nose,” Laxton pleaded.
He didn’t even have to strike him. West stopped, his fist a half inch from Laxton’s quivering body, his blubbering face. “If I ever hear of you mentioning my sisters, any of my sisters, again in conversation I’ll be back to finish the job.”
He saw Viola’s sweet face in his mind. Her eyes were disappointed. Her dimples nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t like this method of retribution.
Your Grace, there’s no call for violence. Let’s be civilized, shall we?
She would have advised him to think of the perfect insult. To be the better man.
He calmed his breathing. “I could beat you to oblivion and no one in this establishment would come to your aid. But I’m feeling charitable, Laxton. I’ll leave if you give me your solemn promise never to speak of my sisters again and to leave London tomorrow and stay away for the Season.”
“Consider it done. I’ll never even look at them again. And I just recalled an urgent matter I must attend to at my country estate.”
Too easy. The man was a coward, just as West had suspected.
He left Laxton in a quivering heap on the floor, satisfied that he’d made his point.
