The men dismounted and tied their horses to a nearby bush, as no groom appeared to take them to the stables.
“Shall we?” Richard asked as they walked to the front door.
George nodded, and Richard let the knocker bang down.
An older man with gray streaks running through his dark hair opened the door. “May I help you, gentlemen?”
“I’m Evans, and we’re here to see the earl,” Richard said.
The butler looked at George and said, “My lord, as I informed you the last time you visited, the earl isn’t receiving visitors at this time.”
Richard had had enough of standing outside and pushed his way in. “We shall see him whether he wants to see us or not.”
“My lord, this is most unorthodox. I must ask you to leave!” the astonished butler cried as the two men brushed past him.
“Not until I see Jon. Where is he?” Richard asked.
“He isn’t here,” the butler said, staring at him with a defiant look.
“Well, I’ll just have to stomp through every room of this house until I find him then,” Richard said, towering over the older man.
The butler sighed. He was a loyal servant, but there was no way he was going to win this fight. “I see you’re not to be deterred, my lord. His study is down the hall, the last door on the right.”
Richard nodded, and he and George strode down the hallway. They didn’t bother to knock before bursting into Jon’s study.
“Greenfield, I told you no interruptions,” a drunken voice said.
“Lieutenant Lyle!” Richard bellowed. He knew the one thing that Hartley cared about was his army service, and that attitude had not changed even when he’d been severely injured during the war.
A disheveled figure bolted up from behind the desk, surprise written on his face. “Richard?”
“That’s the Marquis of Evans to you. It seems I outrank you now, just as I did during our army days,” Richard said, looking into his eyes, refusing to focus on Jon’s ruined face. His friend was more than a scarred face, and it was time Jon realized that.
“Marquis?”
Richard turned to Greenfield, who’d followed them to Jon’s study. “A pot of coffee,” he ordered.
“Right away, my lord.”
“I don’t need your pity,” Jon snarled, looking between Richard and George. “You can leave now, both of you.”
“Not a chance,” Richard said.
Hartley hadn’t shaved in days and was in serious need of a bath and a haircut. His golden-brown hair hung limply to his shoulders, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“You look like shite,” George said.
Hartley glared at him. “What do I care? Have you seen my face? No one is visiting the Beast of Bath.”
Richard refused to back down and stared down his former lieutenant. “Stop that nonsense. You’re more than a scar.”
Hartley snorted. “Really? Tell that to the people of Bath.”
In no time at all, Greenfield returned with a pot of coffee and a tray of sandwiches. “Do you require anything else, my lord?”
Richard nodded. “Yes, have a bath prepared for the earl.”
“How dare you give orders to my servants?” Hartley demanded, glaring at him.
