A Gentleman’s Position(87)

“I say be damned to you,” Lord Maltravers snarled, and Richard hit him.

It was an excellent punch. Richard had planned it with care; it carried seventeen stone of outrage, frustration, and bitter resentment; and it landed on Lord Maltravers’s cheek just where David’s face was bruised. Lord Maltravers lurched backward, steadied himself, and came charging in again with more courage than Richard had expected. Richard sidestepped his wild blow, put a right hook into his ribs, and swung an uppercut to his jaw that snapped Lord Maltravers’s head back. He stumbled a pace, tripped over somebody’s foot, and hit the floor.

“Good God, Lord Richard,” Alvanley said into the stunned silence. “We are in White’s.”

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen.” Richard stepped back. “And I am very ready to give Lord Maltravers satisfaction as soon as he asks me for it.”

“When he does so—I dare say he is somewhat stunned still—I trust you will name me as a friend,” Julius said.

“It is unacceptable for my brother to duel Warminster’s heir.” Philip spoke with all his authority. “There can be no question of such a thing, Richard. I forbid it.”

“Considering what he said about your wife—” Sir James began, and stopped dead as Richard and Philip turned on him together.

“I beg your pardon?” Philip said softly.

Sir James put his hands up. “I mean no insult, Cirencester, none in the world. Maltravers was offensive. I shan’t repeat it.”

“My brother and now my wife.” Philip’s face was white. “Get up, Lord Maltravers. Get up now.”

“Enough.” Lord Alvanley’s deep voice resonated with command. “I shall be obliged if someone will escort Lord Maltravers from the premises as soon as he can stand. Lord Richard, I expect you will wish to make your apologies to the club in writing. It seems to me obvious from the absurdity of these allegations that Lord Maltravers is unwell, and I am sure his words will be disregarded on that account. I dare say no man in this room will stoop to repeat such things.” That was a clear threat, and there was a general murmur of acquiescence.

“Unwell, perhaps,” Philip said. “Notwithstanding, I regret that I cannot remain a member of any club that admits Lord Maltravers.”

“Hear, hear!” said Freddy loudly, and went red.

“The committee will discuss Lord Maltravers’s membership,” Alvanley said. “Lord Richard, I see no need for your valet to remain with us. Or—whose valet is he?”

“Mine.” Maltravers was sitting up, rubbing his jaw with a savage expression. “My damned valet. I have a contract with you, sirrah.”

“Take him to court,” Richard told him. “If a magistrate feels the need to punish him because he is unwilling to be beaten to death, I shall pay whatever fine may be levied.”

“A number of men in this room would be happy to do so,” Julius said. “Cyprian, since you are without a position—”

“I should be most interested to discuss that,” Lord Alvanley said.

Julius gave him a narrow look. “Excuse me, my lord, I have prior claim. I have been trying to poach him for years.”

A number of other men spoke at once. “This is unseemly,” Philip said over them all. “You are excused, Cyprian. Lord Maltravers, your presence is unwelcome amongst gentlemen.”

Maltravers heaved himself up. He shot a look of pure hatred at Ash and left in silence. David slid out after him, keeping a long way behind.

“Well, good heavens,” Alvanley said. “In White’s. What is the world coming to?”

Philip shook his head. “I shall speak to Warminster. Richard, you will kindly attend me now. I have some things to say to you.”





Chapter 18


“How was it?” Julius asked. They were gathered in the private rooms at Quex’s the next evening, he and Harry, Dominic, Francis, Ash, and Richard. The last twenty-four hours had been, to say the least, lively. “Did you fall under Cirencester’s disapproval?”

“He wasn’t best pleased,” Richard said. “He does not like that sort of attention at all, and he felt that I should not have involved myself in such a sordid matter.” That was putting it mildly. Philip had been outraged by the whole sorry business, and worse had been the question that inevitably followed: Does this have anything to do with the affair you spoke of?

Not that Philip had been near the truth. His fear had been that Richard’s involvement was with Lord Maltravers’s fiancée or, worse, one of his married sisters. Richard had looked his brother in the eye and assured him, No, that had nothing to do with the business, with bruises from avenging David’s injuries already dark on his knuckles.