Connor’s good humor fled as the implications of Rutledge’s words sank in. “What do ye mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” the duke sneered, while Celeste emitted a series of distressed moans. “Aylesbury exposed my son to scandal on a lark.”
“Ye mean, Aylesbury exposed yer son’s disgrace,” Ian corrected. “Nae gentleman would hide what Dormer did to Edgington’s lass.”
Tam nodded. “If no’ Aylesbury, another would have done it. Dormer’s a right git bastard.”
Rutledge finally lost his head. “Well, it wasn’t another. It was Aylesbury!”
Revenge? That’s what all of this was? Rutledge punishing Harry for ruining his son? Rather than merely sullying Piper’s reputation, he intended to punish Harry a hundredfold by putting his sister at the mercy of the very rapist he’d exposed. Connor stared at the duke. Then, Rutledge had tried to take Piper himself only to fail in the attempt.
He’d bided his time, waiting for another chance. Only cold calculation and sadistic determination could influence a man to stay the course for so long. It fit what Connor knew of him. A man who’d never been denied what he wanted now obsessed with having it. And an obsessed man was a dangerous one.
If two years hadn’t discouraged the duke, stranding him or even imprisonment wasn’t going to dissuade him. Connor would be willing to wager that the duke hadn’t been drawn to Dinton Grange by the faint possibility of finding Piper. Conscious of Aylesbury’s imminent return, Rutledge might hope to finally gain a measure of the revenge he’d been denied thus far. Taunting Harry with the details of what he’d done to his sister.
What he might do to her if he found her.
The reminder of what had already been done to her returned to the front of Connor’s mind and that cluster of fury inside of him unwound a fraction, ready to let loose entirely. Perhaps after a year or two, he could be as magnanimous as Piper and have the red haze that crowded his vision fade away.
This was not that day. Or year.
Connor could spare Harry the rage that knotted his own stomach, save Piper a moment’s humiliation, and solve all their problems by ensuring Rutledge’s immediate—and permanent—removal from the equation.
His feet carried him toward the duke, hands fisted before he even processed the movement. The guards took a step forward, ready to intercept him.
“I made him pay for what he’d done and I can do the same with you.” That cool polish was off, exposing the rage Piper had warned him of. Spittle flew from the duke’s mouth. “Do not think you can provoke me without repercussions.”
Connor growled low in his throat, fighting his base instinct to lay the man out flat. “And dinnae think ye can push me wi’out me pushing back. Duke.”
The duke put a hand on Connor’s chest and gave him a hard shove. As he wasn’t a little fellow, he might have anticipated some measure of success in doing so. All the same, Connor was large enough and furious enough to stand his ground.
“Dinnae touch me again, Duke,” he ground out. His brothers both rose to their feet, intimidating the guards with their size. “Or ye and I will have a more serious argument on our hands.”
“Assault on a peer of the realm is a criminal offense.”
Connor leaned forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose and snarled, “Aye, but worth it to me.”
Rutledge’s nostrils flared, he inhaled sharply.
And paused, wavering.
“Aye, I’m game,” Tam asserted with a nod.
“Let’s do it.” Ian cracked his knuckles with a grin. “I haven’t had a good brawl all day.”
* * *
“Thank ye both. Normally I’d say ye took it too far, but Rutledge deserved it,” Connor ground out as he led his brothers above stairs a short while later. “And more.”
“A pleasure.” Ian grinned. “Been a while since we’ve been able to verbally crush the unsuspecting.”
“Regrettable that it dinnae get more physical,” Tam bemoaned with a shake of his head.
“Yer reputation does tend to proceed ye.”
Yet, he’d wavered even before the twins had stepped up, prepared for violence. Perhaps it had only been Connor’s imagination. The duke had been willing to initiate a melee. It was his guards who had backed down from the physical threat of three strapping MacKintosh men, combined with the added force of a quartet of footmen at their backs. By the standard of their position, all were over six feet and well built.
Shame, really. Connor regretted losing the chance to whip Rutledge’s hide. Next time, the odds might not be in their favor. No doubt the duke’s four personal guards would become twice that by morning. All the more reason to be done with this nonsense.
