Yes, he did. But then, who decided these societal rules in the first place? Perhaps he was tired of these rules. Perhaps he’d read too many idealistic novels. Perhaps that was why he kissed Selena, caught up in a moment that would work in fiction but not reality.
Whatever the case, on a normal day, hell would have to ice over before he coerced a woman into a marriage she didn’t want. With Selena... hell, Heaven, and the universe combined would have to turn into icicles before he offered for her hand.
He valued his life, after all.
Saville threw another punch, this one smashing into the corner of his eye. “I will kill you.”
“Better you do it than her,” Warrick growled, temper erupting at having been caught off guard. He cursed when Saville grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked. Damn it, Saville didn’t play fair.
If that’s how it is . . .
Warrick threw several punches of his own and tried to twist out of that painful grip. Blackguard. He turned his head and bit down on the arm that refused to let go of his hair.
A curse rang through the chamber. “You damn dog!”
Warrick bit down harder.
A throat cleared loudly at the door.
Both men stilled, heads whipping to the sound. Four men filled the doorway.
What the hell?
A red-haired man stepped forward. Cameron, his footman. “My lord, we sent for help.”
Warrick scowled. “Help?”
“Gentlemen.” A tall man stepped forward. “I am Marcus Hunt, Bow Street Runner.” His gaze flicked between the two men, their position. “I hesitate to ask, but I’ve learned as a Runner that not all things are what they seem, so I’ll ask this only once. Is everything in order here?”
What. The. Hell?
Only then did Warrick realize his and Saville’s limbs were tangled up like a couple of snakes.
He leaped to his feet—or tried, at least. A miscalculation. Saville was still frozen, his cooperation incomplete, leaving Warrick’s back to hit the floor.
Deuced embarrassing.
Not the sort of brawl any man wants to have witnessed.
“A minor scuffle,” he said and rose to his feet, a bit more cautiously this time. “No harm done.”
“Speak for yourself,” Saville exploded. He, at least, managed to rise with grace even though his tone still contained a sharp edge of pettiness. He covered the side of his face with his hand, hiding his mouth from their unexpected audience, and mouthed,pistols at dawn.
“Are you serious?”
Saville pointed at him. “Choose,” he mouthed, “your second.” Only then did he drop his hand.
Bloody hell.
Why hadn’t he just denied Saville’s accusation? He should have denied it until his last breath. Until even he believed he hadn’t kissed Selena. That was how strong his denial should have been, damn it.
“My lord,” Cameron spoke up after Saville had shoved his way past his footman and Mr. Hunt and stalked from the chamber. “We also received word about Lady Selena.”
Warrick sighed.
What did that little she-devil do now? It didn’t matter. Whatever she was up to now could not be worse than what had transpired in his bedchamber here today.
“She went to an alehouse, my lord.”
