Through the gap in the curtains, Nash could see Maddy leaning over the table, the picture of outraged female fury. He moved but she met his gaze squarely.Get back,her look said.This is my battle.
It took all of Nash’s willpower to obey. If the bastard made one move toward her . . .
Harris jerked to his feet, knocking his chair backward, a hand to his cheek. “You little bitch!”
“Howdareyou!” Maddy blazed. “There was nothing,nothingimproper in our friendship. Sir Jasper was a gallant old gentleman who knew my grandmother. And for her sake, he gave us this place and accepted honey as rent to save my pride!”
Harris sneered. “Save your pride? More like get his hands on your pretty hide, which is what I—” He lurched toward Maddy, his beefy hands reaching out.
Nash stepped from the alcove. “That’s quite enough!” His voice was like a lash.
Harris swung around and stared, taking in Nash’s stubbled chin, his riding breeches, the shirt open at the throat and with the arms rolled up, no coat, neckcloth, or waistcoat and, most damning of all, no shoes or stockings. “Who’s this? Your fancy man, eh? Now I see how you got your ten-pound note, earned it on your ba—”
Nash punched Harris in the face.
Harris reeled and staggered back. “You bastard.” He rallied and swung a blow at Nash, but beefy brute though he was, Nash was well skilled in the art of boxing. He blocked it easily.
“Watch your language. There’s a lady present,” Nash snapped.
Harris made a rude sound. “Lady? That little slu—”
Again Nash’s fist smashed into Harris’s face. “Apologize.”
Harris grabbed a chair and swung it at Nash. He ducked but it caught him a glancing blow on the face. He wrenched it from Harris’s grasp and tossed it aside.
“Apologize,” Nash repeated.
“To her? You might take an old man’s leavings but—”
This time Nash’s blow sent Harris sprawling on the stone flags. He lay there, cowering, his nose bleeding profusely.
Nash stood over him, panting, his fists clenched. “I said, apologize to the lady.”
Maddy tugged at his elbow. “He’s had enough, Mr. Rider.”
Nash didn’t budge.
“Sorry, miss,” Harris mumbled through his handkerchief. It was halfhearted at best.
Nash was tempted to thrash a proper apology out of the fellow, but Maddy clung to his arm so tightly he lowered his fists and stepped away.
Still on the floor, Harris snuffled noisily into his handkerchief. “I’ll have the magistrate onto you,” he mumbled in a very different tone from the way he’d apologized a moment earlier. “See if I don’t. Onto the pair o’ you.”
“Do so with my goodwill,” Nash said crisply. “And then you can explain to the magistrate why you’ve been threatening this lady—”
“Threatening? I never did.” He heaved himself to his feet and gave Maddy a venomous glare. “Did she tell you that, the little—”
Nash took a step forward. Harris hastily scuttled sideways like a crab, putting the table between himself and Nash. He blotted blood from his nose. “You got no right—”
“Get out,” Nash said coldly. “You’re dismissed. Go and evict yourself from wherever you live, and if I catch you on my property again, I’ll thrash you within an inch of your life.”
Harris’s brows gnashed together. “Evict myself? What the ’ell are you talking about? Your property?”
Nash gave a slight ironic bow. “Nash Renfrew, at your service. TheHonorableNash Renfrew.”
There was a long silence. Over his bloodied handkerchief, Harris glanced from Nash to Maddy and then back to Nash. “That’s a lie,” he sneered, taking his cue from Maddy’s surprised expression. “You heard me talking to her and—”
“I did,” Nash agreed. “I heard you issue orders in my name that you never received from me and which I’ll take my oath you never received from my brother. I heard you demand sums of money you had no right to demand, and”—his tone grew icy—“I heard you try to evict a young woman and five orphaned children, and when she demanded a fair hearing, you impugned her honor and the honor of my late uncle, Sir Jasper Brownrigg.”
