Page 44 of A Winter Scandal

“Done. Gabe’s a bruiser, but I’d never take anyone in a mill over Rawdon. Man never gives in.”

“You’re betting on them?” Thea’s own temper spiked, and she reached out and grabbed the large tankard from Ian’s hand.

“What the—” Ian stared, astonished, as Thea marched across to where the two men were rolling across the floor, punching and wrestling.

“Stop that this instant!” she ordered, and flung the contents of the tankard squarely into their faces.

They broke apart, spluttering and gasping. She had hit Gabriel more fully in the face, and he rolled away, his hands going to his eyes. Rawdon, who had caught the ale more on the side of his face and head, pushed back his wet hair and staggered to his feet, not even glancing toward her as he started toward Gabriel again.

Thea dropped the tankard and swooped up the tall candlestick that had fallen to the floor earlier. The fat candle atop it had broken and fallen off when it hit the floor, leaving the sharply pointed end naked. She stepped in front of Gabriel, lying on the floor, and faced his opponent, the long candlestick thrust out toward him threateningly.

“Stop right there!”

The blond man halted abruptly, staring at her. “Who the devil are you? Get out of my way.”

“I am Althea Bainbridge, and I am not moving until the two of you stop behaving like wild animals.”

He blinked at her, nonplussed. One side of his hair was wet and plastered to his skull, and the liquid had dripped down his neck and spotted his coat. A raw, reddish patch spread along his high cheekbone, and his lip was cut, a thin line of blood trickling down from it. And still he managed to look haughty and aristocratic.

Behind Thea, Gabriel rose to his feet, cursing. “Bloody hell! My eyes! What the devil did you throw on me?”

“Whatever was in Cousin Ian’s tankard. Ale, I assume.”

“Did you have to use something that stings?”

Rawdon’s lip curled. “Oh, stop whining, Morecombe. No doubt she was merely trying to save you from your own wretched judgment.” He flicked a cool glance toward Gabriel, then turned the full force of his ice-blue eyes back on Thea. With a stiff nod that managed to in no way lessen the arrogance of his demeanor, he said, “I apologize for disturbing your peace, ma’am.”

Thea had no idea what to say in reply, but at that moment a voice sounded from the hallway behind them. “Hallo, Alec.”

Lord Rawdon glanced past Thea and Gabriel to where Sir Myles now stood with Damaris, who was holding Matthew. Rawdon nodded. “Myles.” His gaze slid over to Ian and Alan. “Wofford. Carmichael. Gathered for Christmas, I take it.”

“I don’t know why you are here, Rawdon, but I want you out of my house. Now.” Gabriel came up beside Thea.

She lowered the candlestick to her side, but decided to keep it in hand as she stepped to the side, her gaze going from one man to the other.

“I am here to see Jocelyn,” Rawdon said.

“And you came here?”

Rawdon’s eyes blazed a fierce pale blue, like the center of a flame. “I intend to talk to her. I am not leaving here until I get some answers.”

“Answers?” Gabriel’s voice rose dangerously. “You think you can demand answers—that you can demand anything from my sister after what you did to her?”

“Holy hell! Are you still prating about that?” Rawdon said contemptuously.

“You bloody bastard!” Gabriel took a step closer to the other man, his fists clenching at his sides. “You dare to say that? As if what you did to her was nothing? You take my sister! You force her! You make her flee from her family and home in shame? And then you dare to come here and demand to see her? You’re damned lucky I haven’t put a bullet through that rock you have in place of a heart.”

“Force her?” Rawdon went as taut as a bowstring, and he, too, stepped forward, his hands curling into fists. “You are accusing me of raping Jocelyn? You bloody, arrogant son of a bitch!”

Thea tensed, her heart pounding, certain she was watching murder forming on the two men’s faces. She raised her candlestick with both hands and edged toward them. She had the uneasy feeling she would not be able to stop them even if she started swinging the candlestick.

Fortunately, quick footsteps came from behind her, and Myles snapped, “Alec, wait! Dash it, Gabriel, you don’t know that. You don’t even know for sure Rawdon’s the father.”

Gabriel ignored Myles, focusing only on the man before him. “Yes, I’m accusing you of raping my sister. There’s the proof!” He swung around, his hand shooting out to point at the baby in Damaris’s arms, gazing with wide, solemn blue eyes at the scene before him.

Rawdon followed the direction of Gabriel’s finger. His eyes widened, and for an instant he looked like a man who had just taken a blow to the stomach. He walked past Gabriel, stopping a few feet from Damaris. Damaris did not step back, but she tightened her grip on the baby, keeping her eyes on the tall man’s face. Almost as one, Myles, Gabriel, and Thea moved after Rawdon, coming up beside him. Thea looked from the baby to Rawdon and back again. The similarity in their coloring was undeniable. Could that fierce, almost gaunt visage have once looked like Matthew’s sweet, rounded face?

“This is Jocelyn’s child?” Rawdon’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Truly?”