“Say it.”
“Not a word against Lady Harriet, or it’s my neck.”
“Very good, Egerton. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I wish you success with Lady Harriet, Windham.” Egerton spat out a mouthful of blood. “She’s under the impression it was you who told me about her letters.”
“Now where would she get that idea, Egerton?” As if he didn’t know.
Blood gushed from Egerton’s mouth as his lips split in a ghastly grin. “I told her so.”
Of course, he had.
“You know, Egerton, for all that blood pouring down your chin, you don’t appear properly chastised for your reprehensible behavior. In the interests of making sure we thoroughly understand each other…” He caught Egerton’s coat in his clenched fists, and with one violent wrench, thumped Egerton’s head against the wrought iron railing behind him.
It wasn’t enough. Egerton deserved so much worse, but even a St. Giles guttersnipe drew the line at murdering a peer at Lady Dumfries’s ball.
If only just.
He rose to his feet and slipped out the door without a backward glance, leaving Egerton lying in a boneless heap behind him.
Egerton would find his way out eventually. Or not.
Cass didn’t give a damn, either way.
