Page 35 of Pride of Valor

Sidmouth seemed to sense her momentary panic. “Nana’s fine. Thorne slipped out a bit ago to see if Lieutenant Bourne needed help. She was holding court in the lobby, and your Marine was making sure she kept her cape tied shut over her dangerous Desdemona costume. He bought lemonades for her and himself, and she was the center of attention. She’s introducing him to all the Falmouth grandes dames as “her Marine.”

Richard had finally relaxedand steeled himself to ignore the many wild stories Harriet’s Nana had been relating to all of the women of Falmouth, and a few theatre-goers from Penryn, the nearby fishing village, who approached to pay their respects to Her Grace.

Apparently, the local theatre had been closed for some time until Mr. Algernon and his wife had bought and renovated the building. Tonight was the first performance.

He’d decided early on that the best way to survive this interminable evening was to say as little as possible. He did not contradict Nana when she described him as “my” marine, but instead, maintained a polite smile on his face. He still smarted from the elderly duchess’s remark that he and Harriet could never be together, yet he knew she was right.

Although Harriet had taken over the space in his chest that used to harbor a carefree heart, the stone cold reality was he could not stay in Falmouth to protect her and Nicholas. Her grandmother was right. They deserved much better than a poor Marine in the King’s Navy.

While trying to keep his gaze neutral and not stare at any one of the chattering women surrounding Nana, he felt a surge of something cold, like an icy wind from an open door. The same elderly woman who had stared at Harriet earlier from her box across the way from Sidmouth’s family box stood next to a very tall young man.

The supercilious smirk on his face seemed pasted on. The pallor of beneath his wavy blond hair bespoke a life spent mostly in smoke-filled rooms. He stared directly at Richard and left no doubt as to his intent. He walked away from his mother who stood with a few other women and advanced steadily toward Richard.

He spoke low when he finally reached his side. “We’ve not been introduced, but since you do not seem to be any sort of gentleman, I think I can say what needs to be said simply enough. I’m the Marchioness of Blandford’s brother-in-law, and you, sir, are a scoundrel…”

Saints preserve Ireland, whatever he was going to say next was obliterated when Nana suddenly twirled in front of her crowd of admirers and slipped out of her cape. The shriek from the pompous ass’s mother sent him scrambling back to her side with a backward threatening glance at Richard.

And then Sidmouth was there, picking up Nana’s cape, covering her daring dress, and sending scathing ducal stares around the theatre anteroom. Stares that challenged anyone to utter anything negative about his family.

After that, he herded Nana at his side and clapped Richard on the back, motioning for him to follow back to the box.

That one small gesture proclaimed volumes to the crowd of theatre-goers. Rumors be damned, Richard was one of the duke’s men.

16

Richard followed in Sidmouth’s wake, mentally smacking himself and wishing his sword was with him instead of back in his sea chest aboard theBlack Condor. Maybe he could fall on the damned thing and end his misery.

Nana’s feet barely touched the steps while her grandson held on to her, rapidly moving their little party back to the safety of their box, and the two burly guards flanking the entrance.

Once the elderly woman was settled onto her seat for the remaining performances, Sidmouth placed a light kiss on top of her silvered auburn curls. He straightened and turned toward Richard, motioning with a crook of his finger for him to follow him back to the hallway outside.

Sidmouth closed the door behind him and then shoved Richard down the hallway, out of hearing distance of the guards and into the shadows. “You could have ended up being shot at dawn by Blandford’s fop of a brother.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I am a crack shot. That’s what I’m paid to do.”

“And you think that’s all there is to it? You’d face that worm of a man at dawn, everything would go according to the rules of the game, and you’d walk away the hero of the hour?”

Richard knew better than to answer the duke. The man was so livid, the veins in his neck stood out.

“So you have nothing to say? Well, I certainly do.” By now his voice was a hoarse whisper that Richard doubted would escape notice by the guards. “First of all, Lord Julian Blandford is not what he seems. He’s a deadly bounder. Spends his nights squandering whatever I’ve not been able to keep from him of the boy’s estate. His days, though. Those are a different matter, spent practicing boxing and fencing. He’s a regular at Gentleman Jack’s. And he’s been a crack shot since he was pantsed.”

“But…” Richard tried to interrupt.

“You think you’re the first lackwit he’s maneuvered into a duel? It’s a hobby he indulges. He especially like to use his skills to eliminate men to whom he owes money.” Sidmouth paused for a few beats and Richard assumed, wrongly, he’d run out of steam. “And then you come along. He doesn’t owe you money. You don’t have a wife he can seduce. But you, you unworthy bugger. You have something he’s always wanted.”

At that moment, Richard must have truly looked like the lackwit Sidmouth thought him to be. His mouth hung open while he rifled through his brain trying to fathom what a member of the aristocracy like Harriet’s brother-in-law could possibly covet from him.

Sidmouth broke the silence by doing what Richard had been wanting to do to himself ever since the public altercation with Lord Blandford. He sliced a punch with his left hand to Richard’s left jaw that slammed him back against the wall. “Harriet, you daft bastard. The man’s been in love with Harriet ever since she exchanged vows with his brother.”

“But, she…I’m not…” Could Sidmouth have hit him that hard? Richard had lost the faculty needed to string words together.

“She loves you, you worthless sod, and everyone who sees the two of you within ten yards of each other knows it.”

“But…”Richard made another run at stringing words together.

Sidmouth blasted back at him. “Why do you think poor old Thorne tramps through the woods for hours with that tribe of hers, even though his rheumatism must be killing him?”

Richard had the good grace, and common sense, to lower his head. When he faced Sidmouth again, he said, “If that’s the way of it, I’ll be gone by morning. I’ll gather my things from Rose Cottage and return to my ship.”