Page 49 of A Countess Never Tells

Baltimore squared off against Ash, a small tic in the left side of his cheek twitching at regular intervals. “So you have debauched the lady and so are allowed to wed her. How tiresome. May I ask if she’s already breeding?”

A glance at the stranger, raptly drinking in every word, told Ash this would be the morrow’s on-dit. He needed to cow Baltimore and quickly so this acquaintance of the baron’s would take pause before repeating any of this exchange. Their relative isolation in this remote part of the room gave Ash the opportunity to attempt desperate measures.

With the swiftness of a cobra, Ash grasped Baltimore’s scrawny neck, just above his sloppily tied cravat, and propelled him back until his body hit the wall beside the French doors Ash had used earlier.

Grunting as the air was forced out of his lungs, Baltimore grappled with Ash’s grip on his windpipe. “You will cease spouting lies and insults about my future wife, sir, else you will soon feel my blade in your gut. I have neither debauched nor compromised the lady. Any rumors surfacing that infer otherwise I will attribute to you, Baltimore,” Ash was so close to the man’s face he could see the sweat leaking out of his pores, “or your fine friend here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Your name, sir, if you please.”

The gentleman’s face paled to a shade reminiscent of new cheese, with a tinge of green to it. “B…B…Barker, my lord. Sir Cecil Barker.”

“Sir Cecil, then. You should mark my words as well.” Ash turned his attention back to Baltimore, whose face had turned red, eyes bulging. “If I hear a word being bandied about regarding my debauching my fiancée or you doing so, you may rest assured you will undergo my challenge. You know my reputation with both pistol and rapier as I do yours. I hope it will deter you from making the fatal mistake of not heeding this warning.”

Ash withdrew his hand, and Baltimore slipped to the ground. Spinning toward Sir Cecil, Ash arrested the man before he could go to his friend’s aid. Barker skittered backward, as though avoiding a fiery pit. “If I were you, Sir Cecil, I would make it my sole objective to convince your friend to heed my words.”

The strangled sounds rising from Baltimore’s abused throat were drawing attention from the other guests who’d come to view the commotion. Best end this now. “Otherwise, I will call him out, and you may find yourself in the unenviable position of having to fight my second.”

“Yes, my lord. I agree, my lord.” Sir Cecil wrung his hands, obviously wishing to attend Lord Baltimore, but unwilling to approach Ash too closely.

“I bid you gentlemen a good evening, then.” Ash sketched a bow and stalked away as Sir Cecil darted forward, at last at liberty to assist his friend.

The wretch would live, more’s the pity. Baltimore had been a bad sort all his life, arrogant as hell due to his wealth and station. His family had played a prominent part at court until recent years, though not nearly as powerful now. Still, the man was a danger to Kitty due to the animosity he bore Ash, and he would not have that. Of course, this altercation hadn’t made the situation any less fraught.

“You’ll regret this, Ashwood.” The raspy voice carried to Ash’s ears, though he gave no indication of it.

He continued walking deliberately slowly, giving as much contempt to each step as he could summon. Once he neared the dance floor, he allowed himself to pick up the pace and managed to catch Kitty’s eye as she stood talking to the oddly dressed Lord Fenton.

“Fenton.” Ash had always had a knack for shielding his emotions. That skill stood him in good stead now, for he acted completely unconcerned about anything that had just transpired. “Hello, my dear. Please allow me to escort you back to your brother. I have news that I am certain he will wish to hear.” He leaned toward her and whispered, “We should leave now.”

Kitty frowned for a moment only then she laughed and took his arm. “Lord Ashwood has such a droll manner about him always, my lord.” She turned her attention to Fenton. “He has become so attentive, I swear he will not make a move without me in attendance.” She glanced up at Ash, a question in her eyes. “Can you not give your news to John without me tagging along, my dear?”

“I think it is news which will interest you also.” Her hand tightened on his arm, and he covered it with his. “That is why I wish for your presence.” He smiled and patted her hand. “Not that I don’t always desire your presence with me.”

“You see, Lord Fenton?” Kitty tossed her head gaily. “Most attentive. Will you pardon us?”

“Of course, Miss Tate.” Fenton bowed, his tall, stiff collar narrowly missing his eye. “Please give my regards to Lord and Lady Haxby.” With no further ado, Fenton bowed and almost ran from their presence.

Ash looked askance at Kitty.

“It’s a long story.” She shrugged and settled her hand more firmly on his arm. “Possibly as long as the one I suspect you have to tell if you think we should leave.”

Nodding, Ash squeezed her hand and headed them immediately toward her brother, who was talking animatedly to their hostess. “It is rather a long and unfortunate story, my love, but I will save it until I can tell you all at once. Suffice it to say we have a true enemy now in Lord Baltimore. I have made a bad situation worse, I expect. One glimmer of hope is that your brother may now agree for us to marry sooner than six months.”

“It’s as serious as that, Ash?” Her entire body tensed. “I am happy to oblige, but if you think it bad enough for John to wish to move up the wedding, I’d say it’s very bad.”

Ash’s jaw stiffened. “It is. I fear Lord Baltimore will now make it his objective to hurt me in the worst way possible—by harming you.” He looked forward at Lord Haxby, regretting more than anything what he must confess. Still, he wasn’t sorry he’d tossed the gauntlet down at Baltimore’s feet. “Unfortunately, I would not put anything past the wretch.”

Chapter 22

“My lord, there has been a development.” Ash had waited until Lord Haxby had finished his conversation with Lady Northrop, mentally champing at the bit, while outwardly he appeared mildly interested in their conversation about wines and more interested in Kitty. Not that that was difficult to do. They whispered a bit, mostly with her begging him to tell her what was going on and him refusing in the politest ways possible. She really needed to hear everything all at once, and he didn’t feel up to telling the sordid tale twice. What her brother was going to say Ash didn’t want to contemplate.

“What sort of development?” Haxby looked down his nose at Ash, a rather haughty stare that Ash knew he deserved.

“An unfortunate one, my lord. I believe we should leave so I can apprise you of what has transpired with Lord Baltimore tonight.” Ash peered around, surprised the baron hadn’t sought him out by now. There seemed little activity in the alcove behind the potted palms.

“Baltimore.” The name might have been a curse from Haxby’s tone. “What…No.” He shook his head. “Let us go. Given the information you imparted last week, I expect the matter is delicate enough we would not wish others to hear it. Come, my dear.” He put an arm around Lady Haxby. “We must leave at once.”

“As you say, John.” The countess didn’t look terribly upset at the prospect. Mostly, she appeared tired, and given the goings on in both her life and Kitty’s, Ash wasn’t at all surprised.

Ash continued to lead Kitty toward the front entry, along the way stopping only to take leave of their hostess. The excuse of a headache from Lady Haxby had the added evidence of her peaked and pale face. Quicker than Ash would’ve thought possible, their carriages had been brought around, and he found himself back in his equipage, heading once more for Haxby House.