“Of course.” Nick returned the smile but let it die when he turned to Val. “We’re wasting time, my lord. Let me have five minutes with this miserable excuse for dog shite, and you’ll have your answers.”
“Please!” Freddy shot out of his chair as if cued for it in a stage play, only to have Nick’s single, meaty hand shove him right back onto his seat. “I can explain, and it isn’t complicated. I was simply, well, going to encourage you to sell the place back to me.”
“By creating a series of accidents?” Val posited, settling into a comfortable wing chair. “Starting with loose slates on my roof? Including a couple of bonfires in my residence? Continuing on to an attempt to collapse my hay barn while the roof was being restored?”
Freddy’s complexion went from ruddy to sheet white in a moment. “How do you know?”
Val snapped his fingers and rose. “And I forgot! You tried to destroy Ellen Markham’s cottage by dropping a damned tree on it. Fortunately, the lady wasn’t inside, and only her peace of mind, sense of safety, and pitiful savings were obliterated along with her residence.”
“How do you know?” Freddy cried again. “I wasn’t trying to kill anyone; I merely wanted you gone and happy to sell the property back to me for a pittance.”
“Freddy…” Darius shook his head slowly. “If they didn’t know before, they certainly do now.”
“Leave us.” Val spoke to his two friends through clenched teeth.
“Val,” Nick muttered, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Neither do I,” Freddy added, glancing nervously all around the room.
“The windows are locked,” Val informed him, “and my friends will be right outside the door. They will not interfere, however, unless I ask them to.”
“Val.” Darius met his friend’s eye, raised his left hand to his waist, and made a tight fist. “Be careful.”
Val nodded and let the silence build. Nick merely rolled his eyes and followed Darius from the room.
“So what are we about?” Freddy asked, swallowing audibly when the lock clicked shut on the only door.
“We’ll settle this like gentleman.” Val shrugged out of his coat. “And I promise not to kill you, because I understand you’ve only the one heir, and his claim to Markham blood is quite attenuated. Surprises me I’d care about your miserable succession, but I think it would mean something to Ellen.”
“Ellen?” Freddy ran his finger around his neck cloth again. “Is this about her?”
“Coat off, Markham.” Val started rolling back his cuffs. “I’ll even let you take the first swing, and yes, part of this is about Ellen. You are no kind of man if you think preying on your cousin’s widow is acceptable.”
“She’s managing,” Freddy muttered as he struggled to get out of his coat. “She’s the kind of female who will always manage, and how was I supposed to squeak by on a bloody damned allowance like some schoolboy!”
“She manages.” Val removed the signet ring from his smallest finger. “Why couldn’t you?”
“Because a gentleman has needs,” Freddy nearly shrieked. “You should know that.” He extricated himself from his coat and put his fists up.
“It isn’t considered sporting to keep the rings on, old man,” Val said, limbering up his fists.
“It wasn’t stealing,” Freddy retorted, an odd note of genuine relish in his voice. “She owed me, Windham. She will always owe me.” With that, Freddy put up his fives and took up a stance reflective of the scientific approach favored by the bloods who frequented Gentleman Jackson’s salon.
Val, youngest of five brothers, took one look at his opponent, resisted the urge to thank God for small favors, and laid Lord Roxbury out flat with one right-handed punch.
And as disappointing as it was, Val limited his retribution to that one very effective blow.
Darius resumed his assigned role as the more sympathetic bystander and assisted Freddy to his feet.
“He drew blood!” Freddy stared at his fingers, touched them to his lips, and found more blood.
“You essentially bit yourself,” Darius said, handing Freddy a glass of water while Nick and Val looked on dispassionately. “I’d offer you some ice, but that amenity is yet in short supply in these rustic surrounds. You might want to use your handkerchief or cravat on that lip, though.”
“But blood leaves an awful stain,” Freddy said, his words slightly slurred. “Stanwick would leave, and then where would I be?”
“Can’t have that.” Darius shook his head. “Have we sent for Lord Roxbury’s equipage?”
“His curricle is in the drive,” Val said. “Sean is walking his team.”
“So that’s it, then?” Freddy rose unsteadily, but Darius did not offer any more support. “You plant me a facer and we call it even?”
“No.” Val let Nick assist him back into his morning coat. “That was simply to address the requirements of honor, and damned unsatisfying it was, Roxbury. I’ll be calling on the local magistrate, and you’ll be hearing from me.”
Freddy’s split lip began to bleed down his chin, but nobody offered him a handkerchief, so he was compelled to use his own. He blotted the blood daintily, eyeing Val all the while.
“The Lords won’t convict me, and I can have you charged with assault. Duke’s son or not, you’re just a commoner, and I hold one of the oldest titles in the land.”
“I didn’t say you’d be charged,” Val replied mildly, “but I will say, before witnesses and men of honor, as well, if you ever try to extort another farthing from Ellen Markham, I will hunt you down and wrap your balls around your scrawny neck until you expire, and then I will feed your carcass to the pigs.”
Freddy’s bloody lips compressed, but then a short, ugly laugh burst from him.
“You won’t have me charged.” He patted the handkerchief against his lip. “You know you’re holding the low cards now, Windham, so I’ll take my leave of you with a little kindly advice: Ellen Markham is capable of murder. Family loyalty prevents me from seeing her tried for the crimes she’s committed, but let me suggest that even if you’re besotted with her, you’d be a fool to trust that woman farther than you can pitch her, much less with the lives of your children. She’s dangerous, and make no mistake. I keep my distance from her for reasons my late cousin would understand only too well.”
He left them on that, and Val went to the window, watching in silence as Sean stepped back from the horses’ heads. When Freddy had tooled off down the lane, Val remained at the window.
“Did he tell you anything during your bout of fisticuffs?” Nick asked.
Val smiled slightly. “He told me he can’t fight worth a bloody farthing. Jackson has been taking his money for nothing.”
“A man must deal as best he sees fit.” Darius took a sip from a glass of whiskey, passed a tumbler to Nick and the third one to Val. “You’re not satisfied with this outcome?”
“I am not. Still, let’s put our statements down for Sir Dewey and see what he makes of it.”
“You are glued to that window, Val.” Nick came to stand at his shoulder. “Whatever for?”
“I don’t want Freddy running into Ellen,” Val said. “I told the boys to keep her in town until at least four this afternoon, but she’s like my father. When she takes a notion, there’s no arguing with her.”
“Rather like you,” Darius murmured, joining them at the window. “And there is Sean with Ezekiel.”
“Gentlemen.” Val passed his glass to Nick. “It has been a pleasure, of a sort. You have my eternal gratitude. I’m off to town.”