Walking down the path, he saw three men standing around his horse.
“May I help you?”
They spun to face him, fanning out before Monty.
“We found this horse, and we’re taking it.” The man in the middle of the three addressed him. Monty didn’t think they were completely down on their luck, as they were dressed well, but he could smell the spirits.
“I don’t believe it was lost. In fact, I tied it to the tree while I went to an appointment.”
“We’re taking it,” one said rather unwisely.
“As that’s theft, I cannot allow it,” Monty said.
“There’s three of us,” one man bragged. “You’d best run now.”
This had the others laughing. Monty stayed where he was. He never went looking for trouble because someone could recognize him, which was unlikely if he was honest. The man he was and the role he played were worlds apart.
“Hand over your money, and we’ll take the horse, and you can walk away while you still can,” another said. “Your voice tells me you’ve more than enough money to buy another animal to ferry you from ballroom to ballroom.”
“They have fancy carriages for that,” another said.
“Is everything well here, my lord?” Monty heard Geraint say as he stepped to his side.
“Yes,” Monty said.
“Still two against one.” One man stepped closer.
“If you walk away now, we will not harm you. If you stay, I can make no promises,” Monty said.
The men laughed.Idiots.
He balanced his weight on one leg and lashed out with his foot. The man fell far too quickly. Had he stumbled, then they may have engaged in more fighting.
One of the other men roared and charged him, while Geraint took the third. Monty jabbed with a fist and enjoyed the sting of pain as the blow was returned, connecting with his jaw. He then plowed his fist into the man’s stomach and cheek. He fell hard. Fists clenched, Monty turned to look for another to fight.
“It is done, my lord,” Geraint said, standing over the man he had clearly just dropped.
It was disappointingly swift and left him frustrated.
“My thanks,” Monty snapped, sounding ungrateful. “Really, thank you,” he added.
“I’m sure you had no need of my services, Lord Montgomery. I’ll bid you good evening.” The man bowed and walked away down the street, disappearing into the shadows.
Mounting, Monty rode away as the three men staggered to their feet and fled. He was never so angry he could kill with his bare hands. He’d been that just then, almost as if a red haze had covered his eyes. He needed to leave London and Alexius, but not until he knew if his parents’ deaths were at the hands of a devil worshipper.
Not long and this hell will be over.
CHAPTERTHREE
When Monty returned to his town house, he went directly to his study and penned a note stating what he needed sent to London from his estate. The estate he’d lived the first thirteen years of his life at and not returned to since.
He then went to his rooms to bathe and dress.
Staring in the mirror an hour later, he watched his valet style his hair in what Zach Deville called “the dog turd look.” His hair was swirled into a point in the middle of his head.
“When this is done, I’m cutting all the hair off,” Monty muttered.
“But you have magnificent locks. It is simply the style that is wrong,” his valet said. He carried a jacket in his hands.
