“I’d say you’ve seen better days, but I don’t think you need to hear that,” the doctor said as he took a seat across from Raphe and began looking him over. “You’ve some nasty contusions, one here on your eyebrow, the other a bit lower, but they ought to go away in about a week.” Setting his hand against Raphe’s chin, he tilted his head slightly. “The cut at your temple and the one on your lip will have to be stitched up, though. It won’t be pretty, and it’ll hurt like the devil.”
“And if I just leave it alone?” Raphe muttered.
The doctor responded with a shrug. “It may get infected, and then you’ll have a whole other level of hell to deal with.” Raphe snorted. “Not to mention that your arm appears to have come out of its socket. Shall I pop it in for you? Or would you rather wait and see if it manages to find its own way back?”
Raphe clenched his jaw, ignoring the spark of agony that tiny movement made. “Put it back in its socket and stitch me up.”
“Some brandy?” Guthrie asked some time later, offering Raphe a small flask as the doctor put in the final stitch and tied a knot. He’d gone to calculate his profits, but was now back with a wide grin on his face.
Raphe nodded, his ability to speak still lost in the wake of the doctor’s rough handling. Thank God it was finally over. He tested his arm again, then reached for the bottle and took a long draft. “Thank you,” he told the doctor, who gathered his things with a tight smile before moving away.
“Ye fought well,” Guthrie said as he claimed the chair the doctor had used. “I’m proud of ye. An’ grateful too. In fact, I’ll be sorry to let ye go, but a deal’s a deal, laddy. Ye’ve earned yer freedom fair ’n’ square.”
It felt strange. Raphe took another sip of the brandy before handing the flask back to Guthrie. “Thank ye. I think.”
Guthrie grinned. “What’ll ye do with yerself now that yer fightin’ days are over?”
“Get married. Live a normal life.”
“Ye’re a duke, Raphe. Yer life won’t ever be normal again. But I do wish ye luck. An’ if ye’re ever passin’ through St. Giles, I’ll buy ye a beer.”
“And I suppose pigs will fly as well, will they?”
Grinning, Guthrie tipped his hat and strode away just as Gabriella burst into the tent. She halted the moment she saw him, her features twisting as her gaze slid over him.
He rose to greet her. “Good heavens.” She whispered the words across her rosy lips as she came toward him hesitantly, as though she feared injuring him further.
“I’ll be all right in a week or so. Right as rain before the wedding, at least.”
For some reason this made her eyes shimmer and her lip tremble and then, without knowing how it had happened, she was in his arms, kissing him as though they weren’t surrounded by other people and it weren’t the most inappropriate thing in the world. Raphe didn’t care. He was grateful for her attention.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured against his mouth. Then, in an even lower whisper, “Reporters from the Mayfair Chronicle watched the fight. They recognized you and talked about further investigation. Coventry’s trying to stop them, but I doubt he’ll succeed.”
“I feared as much.” Cupping her cheek, he gazed into her clear blue eyes. “Do you think we can brave it?”
She responded with a solid nod. “Of course. We can get through anything together.”
Grateful beyond words that she’d come into his life, he kissed her again. Scandal, it would seem, would be inevitable, and it was time for him to accept that instead of constantly trying to prevent it. He was still a wealthy, titled man, after all, so his sisters would manage somehow. And he had Warwick and Coventry on his side too, not to mention the most important person in the world—Gabriella, the woman he loved. Together, they would fight whatever battles might come their way, content with the fact that no matter what, they would always have each other.
Gloucester, three weeks later
Accepting the arm Raphe offered her with a joyous smile, Gabriella left the church with her husband as those nearest and dearest wished them both well. They’d left London two days after Raphe’s fight with the intention of visiting Victoria and Ben as planned. But rather than return to London for the wedding as they’d initially intended, they’d decided to remain in Gloucester with Gabriella’s parents after the news of the fight spread.
It had all begun with the article that appeared in the Mayfair Chronicle titled: Huntley’s Bloody Brawl. A number of speculations regarding Raphe’s relationship to Guthrie and how he’d come to fight for him in the first place had been raised. Further investigation into this matter will be required, the author had written, but the point remains that the Duke of Huntley has a speckled past that defies all comprehension.
Gabriella’s attachment to Huntley also received a lot of attention. With two daughters breaking off their engagements in quick succession, it is this author’s honest opinion that the Earl of Warwick’s family may not be as righteous as they would have us all believe.
Cancellations to Lady Warwick’s tea party the following week had begun to pile up within the hour, and by the end of the day, it had become clear that of the two hundred friends or so the Warwicks thought they had, they were fortunate if they had a handful between them.
“Hypocrites,” Lady Warwick had said that evening at dinner. “Everyone knows that the Countess of Chester takes many lovers, and that her sons have fathered numerous children out of wedlock. Good Lord! I daresay we could easily find something unforgiveable to say about everyone if we set our minds to it, and yet they treat us as though they conduct themselves with the utmost of virtuosity.”
“The difference, my dear,” her husband had pointed out, “is that they’ve had the good fortune to stay out of the scandal sheets, while our family and Huntley’s were allotted two full pages, complete with caricatures. That is not the sort of thing that goes unnoticed.”
Unable to disagree with that, they’d all agreed that a long sojourn in the country held great appeal, and had departed for Raphe’s estate ahead of schedule.
“Happy?” Raphe asked, his voice whispering against Gabriella’s ear as he leaned closer to her.
“Very,” she replied as he handed her up into the carriage that would take them to the inn where they’d elected to spend their wedding night. Huntley had rented the whole establishment for two days, leaving Amberly Hall to their family and the few friends who’d come to join the celebration. “How about you?” Gabriella asked as he got in beside her, his hand immediately seeking hers.
