Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Excuse me?” His tone was the same he’d heard his father and grandfather use numerous times to those beneath them. Cold. Autocratic.
Lovell drew back like the tone had been unexpected and he’d forgotten whom he was speaking with.
“My sister went to your house with your sister. I don’t see her. Is she with you?”
“My lord or Lord Wetherstoft is how you may address me. I’ve not seen your sister this morning.” He finished unbuttoning then shrugged out of his coat. “Are you trying to imply something?” Disdain dripped from his words.
“Oh, God, no,” Lovell retorted with an ugly laugh-snort. “I know my sister isn’t your type. She’s not anyone’s type, given her size.”
“Get ready.”
Bryn turned and tossed his coat to the rack nearby and didn’t bother to watch it settle on the peg. It always landed there, no point to worry it wouldn’t this time. He stepped into the ring where people worked on their skills.
Even with his back turned, he knew the moment Lovell entered what Bryn considered his domain. Spinning around, he strode toward him. Lovell lifted his hands, but it wasn’t going to be enough. Bryn had far too much sexual frustration built up within him, and he was pissed at how this boy treated his sister.
One jab was all it took and the boy dropped like a stone. Standing over him, Bryn shot him a scathing look.
“Lesson one, never forget what I’ve told you.”
Lovell struggled to a seated position, wiping at the blood streaming from his nose. “I haven’t!”
With a jerk of his head to someone nearby, Bryn caught the cloth they tossed, pleased people who worked in this place knew how he liked things and he didn’t have to speak to tell them to give him a cloth. A look could do it. “You did,” he insisted. “I told you to watch how you speak to or about a lady, especially when that lady is your sister.”
Dropping the towel, he watched dispassionately as Lovell stopped the blood from falling from his nose with his shirt, as no one had given him a towel. He wasn’t as cocky when he pushed up to his feet this time.
“Lesson two, learn to read your opponent.”
Lovell shook his head. “I don’t understand.” He walked to a stack of towels by the ring and swiped one, using it to dab at his nose.
“You look at people and make an assumption. Like when you look at me, you think The Mutt.” Waving off his immediate denial, Bryn shook his head. “Don’t bother lying to me. You have it in your head that I’m less than you because of who my mother is. That’s your mistake. Because despite you thinking my mother is less worthy than other ladies here in London, you’re wrong. She’s a princess. I’m a damn prince, regardless of my skin color. Boxing isn’t like walking into White’s and demanding a table. Where they cater to your name. Here it doesn’t matter.”
Lovell looked at the towel and tossed it over his shoulder. “So there are people from all walks of life here.”
“Yes.” He walked around him. “Lesson three. Never let down your guard.”
Bryn struck again, sending him back down to the floor.
Chapter Nine
“Rosamunde, come into my study.”
Her father’s command reached her with ease as she took slow steps across the first floor on her way to the sitting room. She pivoted and changed direction to his domain.
The door sat cracked, and even though he’d summoned her, she still knocked.
“Enter.”
The warmth from his fire immediately sank into her bones. It was warmer in here than in the sitting room.
No wonder he spends so much time in here.
One of the maids picked up a tray and with a small bob walked to the door and slipped out. Interesting how her cap sat wrong and the back of her dress was mussed.
Ignoring that, she focused on her father. He’d aged a lot since announcing she was basically being sold into marriage, but her heart had since hardened to the man she used to dote upon.
“Yes, Father?”
He waved her to a seat and she settled with ease, posture straight and ankles hooked. At least I can pretend to be the daughter he wants.
“You know you’re helping out the family with this marriage, and that’s your role.”
She blinked but didn’t speak. Watching Bryn and Falcon, she’d realized that both men utilized the tactic, that it got people to speak things they may not have wanted to admit.
“Your sisters, even though they are older, deserve one more Season.”
While I don’t deserve anything.
“I mean, you’ve had one and let’s face it, Rosamunde, you didn’t get any bites.”
Neither did they but I don’t hear you complaining about them.
He shifted in his chair, discomfort obvious. Again, she didn’t care. The man she’d called father was being so callous to her and her future to sell her off to a man she didn’t know and hadn’t met.