“Oh, drat,” she said, also noticing the blood.
Gawain passed her his handkerchief. “Keep it pressed to your elbow.”
“Thank you, but I am still irritated with you for—”
“Cherish!” Gad, they would have lost the war to Napoleon in two days if all his soldiers behaved as unreasonably as she did. “Enough, love. Do as I say.”
Did he just call herlove?
Bollocks again.
How had that slipped out? Had she even heard him? Everyone else surely had, and now there would be another scandal tossed into the pot.
Cherish was still muttering about his apishly protective instincts and how annoying they were.
He was a duke. A Silver Duke. Not some great mountain ape running amok in Fiona’s study.
Perhaps he was not as calm or rational as he thought, for he wanted to pound Cherish’s uncle to dust. “Why are you here, Northam?”
The look of loathing Northam cast Cherish did not bode well for the girl. What was going on?
“She’s coming back with me,” Northam spat out. “I’ll send for her things later.”
Gawain planted his legs wide and crossed his arms over his chest. “No. Cherish stays here.”
He wished more footmen were on hand to grab this man and toss him out, but most were already occupied assisting Fiona and Reggie in sending Lady Albin packing. Another unwanted guest who would not leave.
Well, it was of no moment. He would handle Northam by himself. He only needed the footmen to keep Cherish from meddling.
Where was Durham? Or Fellstone? He would not mind their assistance, too. They would be better able to keep Cherish safe if a fight broke out and fists flew. Not that he intended to instigate a fight or ever strike the first blow. But Northam had his handscurled into fists and was obviously contemplating taking a swing at him.
“Let’s sit like gentlemen and discuss this peacefully,” Gawain suggested to Northam as they stared each other down.
“She’s my niece. No discussion. I’ll giveyoupeaceful,” her uncle growled, and threw a punch. Gawain easily sidestepped him. The howling clod tripped over his own feet and wound up sprawled on the floor. The onlookers laughed, but this only served to further infuriate him. “I’ll get you for this, Cherish!”
Gawain planted a boot firmly on his back, preventing him from getting up. “Northam, stop making a nuisance of yourself and go home,” he said in his authoritative voice normally reserved for soldiers serving under his battle command.
Her uncle’s expression turned menacing when he saw Cherish now standing beside Gawain. “You little witch!”
“Oh, a witch, am I? Put a hand on me and I will come at you with my broomstick, you odious man. I’ll turn you into a newt and your odious wife into mare’s sweat. How dare you threaten me!”
Gawain sighed. Was no one capable of behaving?
“Indeed, Northam. That is no way to speak to a lady. Apologize to your niece or I will not let you up.”
Her uncle began to curse at him instead.
Was the man daft, speaking so disrespectfully to him or his niece? But he was obviously a low creature, not the sort anyone of stature would ever allow into their drawing room. “You have embarrassed your niece enough. Since you refuse to behave like a gentleman, you and I shall step outside and deal with each other accordingly.”
“And I shall have your guts for garters!” Northam howled, then cursed the moment Gawain shoved him to his feet.
He had barely regained his footing before he lashed out at Cherish again. “You’ll feel the back of my hand the moment I get you home. As for Lady Shoreham—”
“Shut up, Northam,” Gawain warned. “It is one thing to insult me, but I will not have you threatening the ladies.”
“That’s right,” Cherish said, also determined to come to the defense of Fiona. “Lady Shoreham is blameless. I alone defied you, and I shall do it again and again. You have no hold over me.”
To Gawain’s dismay, more onlookers had gathered in the entry hall. They ambled in from all over the house. Some from the dining room, some still in their bedclothes, having just come out of their bedchambers, all of them eager to witness the scene unfold. Adding to Gawain’s irritation was the presence of his one-time love, Lady Albin. Had she not been put in her carriage and driven off yet?
