Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

“ Y ou cheat,” Thomas said dryly as Percy’s mace elegantly drove the black ball into the left far corner pocket.

“I do not,” Percy replied matter-of-factly, stabbing the thicker end of his mace to the floor, so he could lean on it. “I am simply better than you.”

Thomas Quinley, an old associate of Percy’s, grumbled something incoherent into his glass of whiskey. They had started the game as friends, but the more losses Thomas accrued, the less friendly their time together had become.

“You were a sore loser when we were children, and you are a sore loser now, old boy,” Percy teased as a servant came to re-rack the balls.

It was late; several hours passed since he had left Madeleine and her family at her carriage, and he had given up trying to pass the time alone. Upon returning home, he went to his office to return some missives from his steward in Greyhall, but he could not concentrate. Every time he began to pen a single letter to page he found himself lost in some thought or other of Madeleine.

Finally, after sitting stoically at his desk for a better part of the evening, he had given up and taken himself to White’s. Part of him was hoping to run into Cecil, but Percy noted the moment of relief he felt when he found Cecil not to be attendance. Thomas had spotted him quickly though, and he had become a decent distraction from Percy’s incessant thoughts—even if he was starting to become annoying.

“I am not a sore loser,” Thomas scoffed, polishing the tip of his mace. “I just know when a man is taking the easier road.”

Percy’s hand froze for a moment, just as he was tilting his glass of whiskey back to finish it, then he narrowed his eyes as he met Thomas’s and purposely drained what was left in the glass. He then sat it down calmly, picked up his stack, and moved to the top of the table to break the freshly racked balls.

“Are we still speaking of billiard play?” he asked as he leaned down to line up his shot, “or are you a coward with your words as well?”

His eyes flitted to his shot, he took aim, and with a thrust of his fist around his mace, sent the white ball careening into the colored ones. They shot away from one another like wood splintered on a pistol target, and two of the smooth colored balls rolled into pockets.

“Looks like I’m in the lead again,” he murmured with a competitive grin.

“I tried all last summer to court Lady Madeleine,” Thomas bit out, “and she would not give me an inch.”

Though Percy was surprised at the admission, he kept his expression unbothered as he took his next shot, purposely missing. Thomas grinned ruefully at the mistake and quickly, if not clumsily, bent down to line up his shot.

“Are you looking for my condolences?” Percy asked casually. “I have never personally been refused by a woman, but I am aware that it can be a brutal affliction to the ego.”

Thomas sneered up him, losing his focus, and scratched the billiard table with the tip of his mace instead of hitting the cue ball.

“In some places that would be considered an immediate loss,” Percy could not help but quip.

Thomas slammed his mace down onto the billiard player, drawing the attention of a few other gentlemen around them.

“You have been gone for years,” Thomas sneered, “off gallivanting on your whims while the rest of us did our duty and stayed among the ton to protect our society.”

“Protect?” Percy laughed.

“I have worked hard, we—” He waved a hand toward the other gentlemen at White’s. “—have worked to uphold our society, and the reward is to be a good standing wife.”

“And I am stopping that how?” Percy asked.

He could tell by Thomas’ growing anger that he should be acting more seriously, but he was in a peculiar mood and was enjoying goading the angry little baron.

“Madeleine Gillett is one of us,” Thomas insisted, taking a staggering step toward Percy. “She belongs with one of us, not you. Duke or not, you ran from your problems like a scared child.”

“Careful, Tommy,” Percy quipped back, gently laying his mace across the billiard table. It was evident, their game was over. “I almost took that as an insult.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find a lady like Madeleine Gillett?” Thomas asked bitterly, ignoring Percy’s warning. “You have not been here; you do not know what London Ladies have become. She does not simper or chase. She is not arrogant or boastful. She is quiet, demure.”

Not as quiet as you may think, Percy thought to himself, recalling how quick and sharp her tongue could be when it came to banter.

“All admirable traits indeed,” he agreed. “So, this is jealousy then? That you could not woo her after an entire summer whereas it took me less than a week?”

Thomas was growing more agitated by the second, and though Percy knew he should be the bigger man and work toward a resolution, he decided not to. Part of him was yearning for a fight—an outlet for the alarm he felt upon seeing Laura talking to Madeleine in the park.

“She was perfect for me,” Thomas went on bitterly, “One of those fat, ugly girls that happened to grow into something pretty. My Father told me over and over that those were the best. Those were the ones that were most thankful and least inclined to complain.”

Percy’s jaw ticked as rage suddenly ate through his blasé attitude.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

Thomas was now practically swaying on his feet as he swallowed another mouthful of whiskey.

“Bacon face,” he said with a burp, studying the empty glass in his hand. “That’s what Cecil used to call her, yes? Hmm. Her fat seemed to slide somewhere else now that she’s grown, though. Her hips were perfect for bearing my children.”

The uppercut Percy delivered to Thomas’ jaw was not a premeditated strike, but it had the intensity of one as it sent the man sprawling to the floor. His stomach churned violently as if he was about to be ill as he stalked toward the laid-out Thomas. The man had talked of Madeleine as if she were some sort of breeding animal available for auction!

“She will never bear your children,” Percy seethed, seizing Thomas up by the collar. “And if you ever talk of her in such a way again, I will end your family line with you.”

Thomas gripped his hands around Percy’s as a devilish smile spread, showing off bloodstained teeth. Percy’s hit had landed squarely on the man’s jaw, but the force of it had no doubt caused Thomas to bite his own tongue.

“You really think you will be the one to claim her hand?” Thomas asked. He let out a laugh that was so wicked that Percy nearly punched him again for good measure.

“I know about your curse, Your Grace,” Thomas continued, his words thick with venom. “You are more likely to claim her life.”

Percy delivered the second punch, this time with better aim, and the knock to Thomas’ nose put the man out immediately. Percy rose from his kneeling position, straightening his jacket as he did so, and took a wary look around the room. The moment he did, most of the other men quickly looked away while others only stared back and shook their heads.

“Good heavens,” the proprietor’s second hand man stated, walking up to the mess. “What do we have here?”

“You should truly consider having a cutting off point for some of your members, Charlie,” Percy said wryly as he pulled his billfold from his inner jacket pocket. “This one got so riled up, I had to knock him out for his own good.”

He smacked the wad of bills in Charlie’s hands.

“It really does speak poorly on your business when you let them get this out of hand. I would have your men take him outside before he comes to. He’s quite full of vinegar tonight.”

Without waiting for a response, Percy strolled past Charlie, past the room of other gentlemen staring at him, and left. He did not make it far before he heard his name being called in the street, and for a moment, he refused to stop and turn.

“Mercy Percy, I said slow down! God, are you tossed so already?”

Hearing Cecil’s old moniker for him, Percy stopped, let out a wry laugh, and turned to see his friend strolling toward him.

“There we go,” Cecil retorted, tossing his cigar into the street. “Did you not see me just now? I was heading into White’s when you nearly mowed me down to get out.”

“Sorry old friend,” Percy apologized, holding his hand out to shake Cecil’s hand.

“What did you do?” Cecil asked straightaway, grinning knowingly as he accepted the handshake.

“You ask me this as if something could be my fault,” Percy replied sarcastically.

Cecil smirked.

“It usually is,” he countered. “So, what happened?”

Percy nodded to a small alley, and Cecil followed without complaint, pulling out his flask as he did so.

“I was going to have this refilled at White’s, but there’s still some left. Here. From the looks of you, you need a drink.”

Percy took the silver flask his friend offered and upended it into his mouth, draining it of its contents.

“You were fighting,” Cecil noted, busying himself with lighting a thin cigarillo.

He nodded his head toward Percy’s red and scraped knuckles, and Percy flexed them in response, feeling for the first the soreness there.

“Tell me something, Cecil,” Percy encouraged. “What happened to your sister last season?”

The question earned him a raised brow and a questioning look as Cecil drew another drag.

“She came out to society,” Cecil said slowly, then offered a shrug, “and failed at finding a match.”

“Why?” Percy asked quickly.

Cecil flicked his cigarillo, dispelling some of the ash.

“Did not like her choices, I suspect,” he said simply.

“What happened with Thomas Quinley?”

Cecil laughed at that, but it only put Percy more on edge.

“That old cod,” Cecil murmured. “He was more persistent than most. I even tried to persuade her to change her mind about him. She would not go for it, though. I told Bacon Face?—”

“Stop,” Percy growled, the command leaving him before he could put forth any thought. “You will not call her that again.”

Cecil raised his right brow slowly as he blew out another stream of smoke, the hand holding his cigarillo slowly lowering to his side.

“I thought you did not care about her.”

The statement was not said with malice, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Percy recognized that. But… it did not stop the rage inside of him from transforming from a drip, to a full-on stream. He did not care about her. He couldn’t. She would not die because of him.

After taking a moment to gather himself, Percy pulled his mask of indifference back on, and he forced a knowing smile to spread across his lips.

“I care about my reputation,” he replied. “And as my friend, you should understand that me courting someone who is now being publicly humiliated because of a name you coined for her is neither good for me nor your family. It would do you well to remember that when you are throwing around such monikers.”

“Throwing them around?” Cecil retorted defensively, “I would never?—”

“Quinley called her that,” Percy interjected, and Cecil went rigid. “It was funny when we were children, Cecil, but now, it is just deplorable slander—especially since there are now others calling her that. That was why I punched him. It is the principle of the matter, Cecil.”

Agitation was written all over Cecil’s face as he seemed to struggle to find the right words to say.

“You struck him?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Percy nodded.

“Twice for good measure.”

Cecil smirked devilishly.

“Good.”

His smirk formed into a frown as he then looked Percy directly in the eyes.

“You swear to me that it was on principal you did this and not because you have feelings for her.”

“Madeleine and I are not… ‘affectionate’ people,” Percy said though even as he did, he began to doubt if it were true. “Our match is well suited by understanding, not love.”

Cecil nodded.

“Very well. I shall go back to White’s and have a little talk with our friend Quinley. You should go home, Percy.”

The relief that Percy felt as Cecil drew the conversation to an end was unexpected and intense, and though he normally did not do well with orders, he nodded his head in agreement. As they parted, and Percy walked toward his carriage, he began to worry about how much he had said regarding his affection for Madeleine was actually true and if he was putting her in more danger by trying to help.