Page 47 of A Landscape of Love

“Come here, you little shit,” growled a furious voice as Fidelia gave a shriek of alarm.

“Alex!” she cried, horrified to see Malmsey had taken her brother by the throat and looked intent on squeezing the life out of him.

Hart didn’t hesitate but delivered a punch to Malmsey’s kidneys that made the colour drain from his face in an instant. He dropped Alex, who staggered away and ran to Fidelia. She gathered her little brother into an embrace and held on tight, too terrified by the way the two men were glaring at each other to speak any words of comfort.

“This is Lord Malmsey, I take it,” Hart said, not taking his eyes from the fellow.

“I have that pleasure,” Malmsey answered before Fidelia could do so. “Though you have the advantage of me, sir. You also have my fiancée, a state of affairs I cannot allow to continue.”

Hart snorted. “She’s no fiancée of yours, you miserable son of a bitch.”

“Her father says different,” Malmsey replied with an arrogant grin that showed too many teeth. “The duke is paying me to take her off his hands. He knows I’m the only man capable of managing a wilful little minx like that. I’ll school her quick enough. She’ll make me a proper wife in time, with the right management.”

Fidelia smothered a sound of outrage, knowing well enough he was doing his utmost to goad Hart into losing his temper and acting without thinking.

Hart was only staring at him with such contempt in his eyes, Fidelia thought it would be Malmsey who cracked first, though.

“What you mean to say is, you’ll beat her until she’s too terrified to defy you, because that’s the only way you know how to get what you want, isn’t it, my lord?”

Malmsey’s jaw tightened, his eyes glinting with malice. “She’s mine, damn you. Now get out of my way before I show you what it means to take a beating.”

Hart grinned at him, the expression one Fidelia could hardly credit had come from the man who had showed her such tenderness. He looked positively feral, and very much as if he was enjoying himself.

“Oh, my word,” she murmured, seeing the crowd that had gathered around the two men and realising there were bets being laid.

“Go on, Hartley, flatten him!” Alex shouted with enthusiasm.

“Hush!” Fidelia begged him, wondering if there were any way on earth she could stop the fight before it began, but it was already too late.

The two men lunged at each other and hit the floor hard, the following sounds a series of muffled thuds and oaths as the crowd surged forward. Soon the noise was deafening as the onlookers shouted encouragement and advice. Hart got to his feet first, wiping his bloody mouth on his hand and waiting as Malmsey staggered upright. His lordship was covered in dust, his coat torn, and one eye was already swelling shut, but he was grim-faced and apparently ready for more.

Fidelia covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a scream as Hart took a vicious blow to the guts that she expected would double him up, but he only took a step back and delivered a right hook that sent Malmsey windmilling backwards into the crowd. The men there caught him and pushed him back into the space cleared for the fight. He lunged at Hart once more, who stepped to the side and delivered a punishing blow to Malmsey’s ribs that made the fellow fall to his knees, retching onto the cobbles of the yard.

Hart looked down at him with contempt for a moment, waiting to see if he would get to his feet again when a disturbance behind him had Fidelia turning her attention.

“Hart, look out!” she cried, as her brother appeared suddenly in the crowd, wielding an ancient broadsword he must have taken from the wall of the inn.

“Christ,” Hart muttered, ducking as the heavy sword swung wildly over his head, almost decapitating half the crowd. “Put that down before you hurt someone, you damned fool,” Hart shouted at him, but Richmond was too incensed to listen.

“Oh, good lord,” Fidelia muttered, watching in horror as the crowd shrieked and ran out of striking range while Richmond bore down on Hart. Looking wildly around, she searched for a weapon before noting the carriage driver. He was watching with his mouth open, his whip held curled in his hand. Without stopping to think, Fidelia leapt down from the carriage, snatched the whip from the man’s hand before he had the wit to object, and struck out at Richmond.

Though she was certainly never going to gain membership to the four-horse club, Fidelia had a small gig she used to tool around the grounds of Hardacre in happier days. Though she was no expert, she knew how to wield a whip and strike where she wished to. Richmond howled with pain as the leather thong struck the back of his neck. Whirling around, he glared at Fidelia with murder in his eyes.

“You dare, you little bitch!” he seethed, so furious now he had totally forgotten the fact he was causing a dreadful scandal, and one which his father would not thank him for. Fidelia almost grinned as she considered the trouble Richmond would be in when her father discovered his part in this fiasco.

“I do dare, you great brute, and I shall do it again if you don’t stop behaving like a drunken lout. You’ve always been a bully, Richmond, and we’ve all had enough. Put that sword down at once, you look utterly ridiculous,” she added scornfully. “Who do you think you are, Edward Longshanks?”

“Who is this man, Fidelia?” Richmond demanded, still holding the sword aloft, though he was sweating, and his arms were trembling under the strain. “What is he to you?”

Fidelia regarded her brother with disgust. Lord, did the man have no sense of discretion or family honour? Their father would disembowel him when he heard of this. “That’s none of your business, Richmond. Suffice to say he is a gentleman and willing to do the honourable thing and help Alex and I leave a home where we are held in contempt and treated as prisoners. Now do go away.”

Richmond’s expression darkened, and he let out a howl of rage. Still holding the sword aloft, he ran towards Fidelia. She gasped in horror. Before Richmond could take more than a step, however, Hart put out his foot, tripping her brother who landed face first in the dirt, the broadsword clattering over the cobbles with a ringing sound that made Fidelia wince. Thankfully, the landlord, who had been sweating with anxiety in case murder was done on his premises, snatched the sword up and hurried back inside with it. Richmond, humiliated as well as furious, scrambled to his feet and turned on Hart, who had clearly had enough. He struck Richmond with a blow that sent him to the ground like a felled tree and then stepped over him as her brother writhed on the ground, emitting sounds of misery and pain.

Malmsey looked no better, and Fidelia watched in satisfaction as he had to be helped to his feet and guided back into the inn. Then she turned to look at Hart. His expression was grim as he strode back to the carriage, and for a moment she felt a little daunted, but his eyes softened as he went to her, taking her by the shoulders.

“Are you all right??” he demanded.

“Perfectly all right,” she replied crisply, before adding with a sigh. “Oh, Hartley, you were magnificent.”