“Then why let this bit of muslin come between us? I need her, Baynton. I staked a claim to her.”
“Go conquer some other woman.”
“I don’t have wagers on other women. Can’t you understand, Baynton? The betting is high. I could be cleaned out. Ruined.”
“From losing one wager?” Baynton challenged. “Rov, you were done up before this. You have been spending money you don’t have for a good year and more.”
Lord Rovington did not like that statement. His scowl deepened. “I’ve had a run of bad luck but it is not anything I can’t overcome. In fact, I will recoup my losses—if you let me have that woman. Everything will be fine then.”
“What of your marriage, Rov? Do you believe your wife wants you to do this?”
“She would if she knew what is at stake. Give the Siren to me, Your Grace . . . and I shall be forever in your debt. For example, we have the vote today on the Pensions Duties Act. You need my vote, remember? My influence? And I know Liverpool is anxious for the Money Bill to be out of the Commons?”
“I will not pander flesh to earn your support,” Baynton answered, heat coming into his voice.
“And you would throw over our years of friendship for a bitch?”
Baynton’s hand shot out. He grabbed Lord Rovington by his neck cloth and lifted him from the floor until he stood on his toes. “She is under my protection,” the duke reiterated with an anger that was almost frightening to behold. “She is mine.”
Lord Rovington’s face started to turn colors. Sarah put her hand on Baynton’s arm. “Your Grace, you are choking him. Please, let him go.”
The duke released his hold and Lord Rovington almost collapsed. He reached for his throat and then rounded on Sarah as if he would strike out at her. The duke put a protective arm around her waist and pulled her to him and out of harm’s way.
Lord Rovington caught himself in time from the rudest sort of violence, but he was not done.
“I will have satisfaction, Your Grace.”
Satisfaction?
The word lingered in the air, confusing Sarah.
But the duke understood. He answered calmly, “Name your seconds.”
“A duel?” Sarah said, trying to make sense of what was happening. “You can’t fight a duel over me. I will not let you.”
Both men ignored her.
Chapter Eight
Gavin had never fought a duel. He thought them senseless.
However, standing in his ballroom, facing Rovington, he recognized that perhaps the long course of their friendship had always been leading to this moment.
Rov was a brat, plain and simple.
He enjoyed manipulating others to give himself more consequence and hadn’t hesitated to use the Duke of Baynton’s name or their friendship if it could open a door, or lead to the powerful position of Chairman of Committees. It was actually Gavin who did the work, who read the bills, who made decisions. Rov was to have been merely a figurehead, but his overweening sense of confidence led him to believe he was more important than he actually was. The faults in his nature were beginning to hold sway. A man receiving thirty-two thousand pounds annually from the position should be set for life—instead he gambled on ridiculous, shameful wagers like “bedding a woman.”
And Gavin would not let such a man have the better of him, no matter what their history.
At Gavin’s calm acceptance of the challenge, Rov frowned as if he had not expected it being taken up. Then again, why should he have? Gavin usually favored diplomacy over force.
For a moment, Rov seemed to stand in indecision.
Withdraw the challenge, Gavin silently ordered. Don’t be a fool.
And then Sarah spoke, reminding them both of her presence. “Did you not hear me?” she said with growing alarm. “You will not duel over me. Oh no. No, no, no.”
The moment to bow out gracefully passed.
