“Yes.”
“Show me.”
“Perhaps it would be prudent to wait before seeing him.”
“You know me better than that,” Patrick said as he strode away from Stephen.
After winding their way through people, Patrick saw the man laughing in a gaggle of his friends.
Lord Tompkins—Tommy to his intimates—was happiest when surrounded by his cronies and boasting about his latest feats. Patrick neither liked nor disliked the man; they’d just existed in the same social sphere… until now. He watched as Mr. Brownley noted him coming in their direction. Heard him say, “I say, is that Coulter coming this way? He looks a trifle out of sorts.”
Idiot.He wasn’t out of sorts. He was furious.
“Tompkins!” Patrick barked, closing the last few feet between them.
“I say, Coulter! Steady, old man. Anyone would think you were angry with Tommy,” said Mr. Hanson, one of Tompkins’s friends.
“N-not purchasing today, my lord?” Tompkins said, his voice rising so the words came out with a squeak.
Patrick had always found men who boasted and bragged were often cowards when confronted.
“I’ve heard a rumor I would like to have a word with you about, Tompkins,” Patrick said, moving to stand directly in front of the man after parting his friends.
Stephen snorted at the look of panic that crossed Tompkins’s face. Patrick, however, was far from laughing; in fact, he had to unclench his fists so he didn’t simply punch the man and be done with it.
“Your gossip to date, Tompkins, has never bothered me. It is something bored men who have little or nothing to recommend them to either their peers or women do.”
A round of horrified gasps greeted Patrick’s words. By sunset, everyone would be gossiping about the altercation between Tompkins and the Earl of Coulter.
“I say, steady on, Coulter,” Mr. Tweetie spluttered.
Patrick ignored everyone else; his eyes were still on the man before him as he took a step closer. “You will never speak of the countess again, is that understood?”
“Y-yes,” Tompkins stuttered, wiping his brow with his cuff.
“Your malicious words are the result of Lady Monmouth’s refusal to take up the insulting offer you issued her two nights ago, and I will not have your petty wounded pride blackening her reputation.” Patrick’s tone was like a distant roll of thunder. “Do I make myself clear, Tompkins?”
“I say, that’s not on,” Tompkins blustered. “My word is?—”
“I said, do I make myself clear?” Patrick added, leaning in closer so their eyes were now inches apart.
“Y-yes, my lord.” Tompkins nodded furiously, looking like a turkey with his jowls wobbling.
A few men in the crowd clapped, and a few defended their friend. Patrick just turned on his heel, ignoring them, and stalked away.
“Well, for someone who loathes being talked about or making a scene, you just ensured the first and participated in the second.”
“It’s about time someone told that idiot to shut up.”
“Oh, I agree. I just never thought it would be you,” Stephen said.
He wanted to hit something. Unfortunately, Stephen was closest.
“Let’s go.”
After collecting their horses, they began to wind their way through the streets of London.
“Shall we go a few rounds at Jackson’s boxing saloon?” Patrick inquired in a deceptively mild voice that fooled no one, because his friend snorted loudly.
