Page 37 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

37

Felicity

F elicity rushed to Ash’s side, his jaw red and already swelling, a clear imprint of fingers around his throat. Dear God.

“Ash. Ash, speak to me. Are you well? I am going to kill Felix. With a dull carving knife, so help me God. And I’m starting with his bloody ballocks.”

Ash cleared his throat. “I a-am well,” he croaked out with a weak smile. “Feels like I just swa-allowed a barrel of gravel.”

She crooned to him at the same time her heart galloped in her chest. She caressed the uninjured side of his face with trembling fingers. Bloody fucking hell.

“That was absolutely mortifying and terrifying. I’ll ring for some ice and cool water,” she said. She sprang up and hurried to the bellpull. “I cannot believe my arsehat of a brother. I’m going to choke him.” She rung for a servant and turned back to Ash. “Should I have the doctor brought in?”

Ash shook his head. “N-No. I will be fine. Just sore.”

She started back to him. “And just so you are aware, there will be no cursed duel.”

He nodded at her and winced. He struggled to swallow and winced again. She rushed to him, crouching before him. Dear God, she hoped he wasn’t seriously hurt. Perhaps she should call for the doctor, regardless of what he said.

“Agreed, a duel would be foolish,” he managed hoarsely. “I will, of course, do the honorable thing—”

Felicity slapped her palm over his mouth and drowned out the rest of his words. Absolutely not. Absolutely bloody not. “You are not going to say what I think you were just about to say.”

Ash’s gaze darted around the room, alarm widening his eyes. A muffled, “Pardon?” came from behind her palm.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and a small growl rumbled deep in her throat.

His brows puckered, clearly confused at her ire. Because he was clearly an idiot. Clearly .

“No, Ash. You were not about to offer to marry me because it’s honorable . I refuse to hear it.” She stood and glared down at him. “I have been arguing with you, fighting for us , giving you countless compelling reasons to marry me, and every damn one you have fought me on. But now”—she sliced her arm through the air—“because of your bloody principles, your bloody honor, you’ll marry me? Love’s not enough, but God forbid you break your bloody principles?”

“Felicity, shite, I didn’t mean it like that.” His raspy tone was apologetic, his forehead lined, blue eyes pleading.

She expelled a breath, the anger, annoyance, whatever it was inside her burning out, sadness and exhaustion taking its place. She walked backward toward her door, nodding, though she had no idea why. She was just so… defeated.

She paused at the door, and they silently stared at each other.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Before… before you were fighting so hard against us, Ash. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit that the only thing that is right, that makes sense, is us marrying. But now that your honor is involved, you discard all your reasons you so obstinately stood by.” Her breath hitched. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Knowing that you need an excuse to marry me. That it takes pistols at dawn for you to finally agree to marry me?”

She cleared her throat, dropping her gaze to the rose and gold carpet. She drew in a steadying breath, and when she finally spoke her words were soft. Flat. “So often it feels as though I have no control, no say, over what happens in my life. So often it feels as though no one wants to marry me, Felicity. It is the beauty, the accomplishments, or now the man’s honor. Never me.”

She shook her head sadly at him, and he reached out to her, but the length of the room between them might as well have been the length of the English Channel.

“I need to go speak with my brother. I would ask that you are gone from my chamber by the time I return. I would like some time to myself after everything that has happened today.”

“Lissy, I sincerely beg your pardon…”

She lifted a hand, silencing him. “I am tired, Ash.” Her voice cracked and she stepped into the hall. “I am so bloody tired. I just—” She paused and drew in a shaky breath. “I just need some time to myself.”

And with that she turned and left him on her bedchamber floor.

The entire walk to her brother’s chambers, she tried to breathe, tried to pull herself up from where she was drowning in hurt. She had fought for Ash at every turn, fought for the love that had surfaced so suddenly and so wildly between them. And he had fought against her. As each barrier fell, he found another to rebuild in its place. But the moment his honor came into question, all fight left him. Instantly. Her efforts meant nothing. Her love meant nothing.

That. Fucking. Hurt.

He sincerely begged her pardon? Well, she sincerely knew where he could shove that apology.

She paused before Felix’s chamber and shook out her limbs. Time to deal with her fuming brother. A muffled grunt and then a crash came from inside. Bloody fantastic. He was clearly still raging. She wasn’t sure putting him in a headlock in his current state was the wisest idea. But if she had to, she’d try.

She pushed into Felix’s room and abruptly came to a halt. Mr. Thorne slammed Felix into the wall. What in the blazes? She froze, her limbs no longer working. Growls, curses, and heavy breathing filled the chamber. Felix spun them and thrust Thorne against the wall, spitting a curse at the man, low and unintelligible.

The crash shook her from her momentarily stunned state. Oh, God—panic flew through her like a lightning strike. She was going to need to get help. There was no way she could break this up.

But wait…

Oh. My. God.

Her eyes nearly popped off her head and rolled across the floor.

Because Felix and Mr. Thorne were grappling together in some sort of furious, lip-locked embrace.

Oh. My. God.

Her jaw dropped, and she stared dumbly, immobile. It was like they were trying to kiss the other one to injury. What the bloody hell was going on? She scrubbed her hand over her eyes. But nothing changed. They were still entangled in some sort of violent—Lord, she didn’t know—sexual combat?

Thorne managed to get himself off the wall, pushing Felix away from him. Thorne’s back was to her, and she couldn’t see Felix behind the valet’s massive frame. Should she alert them to her presence? Should she leave? Were they going to kill each other? Kiss each other more?

“You are the most insolent bloody arse I have ever met,” Felix spat.

Felicity winced at the vitriol dripping from Felix’s tone.

“And you are the most pig-headed, priggish pillock, my lord .”

Felicity’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. She thought she might be impressed at how Mr. Thorne made my lord sound as appealing as the contents of a chamber pot.

Felix launched himself at Throne.

Shite. Fuck.

She stepped forward, arms reaching out helplessly. Because truly, what was she going to do here that would have any sort of impact? The men scrabbled until Throne let out a high-pitched yelp, then his knees hit the carpet with a thud . Felicity stilled. Felix’s back was to Felicity now, and she couldn’t see Thorne but could hear his slight whimper as Felix leaned over him.

She should go get help. This seemed more murderous than anything, even with the kiss. She didn’t know what Felix was doing, but it was clear Thorne must be in pain. She quietly started backing toward the door.

There was a beat of silence before Felix spoke, his voice deep and husky. “What a good little valet you are, on your knees for me.”

A groan came from Thorne.

Felicity steps faltered. Now she wasn’t so sure those were sounds of pain. The tension in the room shifted. The change was palpable, something dark and unstable in the air. She reached for the door. She was fairly certain she should leave. That her brother wasn’t going to hurt or kill Thorne. And that she absolutely did not want to be here for what was going to happen next.

A low, rumbling chuckle left Thorne. “If you think because I’m the one on my knees that I’m not the one in control, my lord, you are sorely mistaken.”

Her brother’s head fell back on a groan.

Eyes flying wide, Felicity scrambled out of the room as quickly and silently as bloody possible.

Holy fucking shite.

She hurried back to her room. What the bloody hell was this day? Because she could not wrap her head around all the fucking madness that had occurred thus far.