Free Sarah's Duke: and Ellie's Gentleman (The heir and the spare, book 1) by Georgiana Louis

shy. She was a vicar’s daughter for God’s sake, she would never survive in his world. He left the room with a lame excuse and a bow.
    Before he called for his carriage, he managed to coax Patrick Millington into a corner in the study, alone.
    “Millington, I know what happened at Lady Charlotte’s ball,” he opened with, not willing to beat around the proverbial bush.
    Millington’s handsome face coloured unhealthily.
    “We went for a walk in the garden. She misunderstood my intentions and she attacked me.” He blustered.
    “She attacked you?” Oliver willed his clenched fists to relax.  “Is that why her dress was ripped and her back was bleeding from being scratched?” He asked through his teeth.
    He could feel his temper slipping free of his control. He never lost his temper, never. But the memories of that night were coming in hard and fast, and he was wondering who would actually miss Patrick Millington if he went missing? He had enough money, he could make sure Patrick Millington stayed gone.
    Millington could obviously see the battle Oliver was waging. Oliver watched him going through his answers before he opened his mouth.
    “As I said, she misunderstood my intentions and became terrified.” He said slowly, gauging Oliver’s reaction.
    He smiled grimly.
    “Well then, perhaps it would be wise to leave her alone?” Oliver gave Millington a stare that belied all the power the Lincoln name had behind it.
    Millington’s eyes flashed rebelliously and he opened his mouth to say something obstinate but Oliver didn’t want to hear it. Instead of waiting for him to speak, Oliver ploughed his fist into Millington’s stomach with as much force as he could muster at short range.
    Patrick Millington gasped like a landed fish and fell down onto his arse, clutching his belly.
    “Or I will ruin you.” Pleasure radiated through Oliver’s body as he looked at the man that would have raped Sarah, on the floor, gasping for air. With one more ducal glance at his fallen nemesis he let himself out of the study and out of Sarah’s life.

 
    Four
    Oliver managed to avoid all ton events for two weeks after that. He visited his club every day and he met his friends at night. He did everything he could to make it appear as though nothing was wrong. He had no interest in any of the high priced brothels he had usually frequented and even less in finding a permanent mistress. Both situations repulsed him and he was ignoring the reason for that.
    He was sitting at his club with a drink in hand when Rupert swaggered in.
    “Lyre!” his old friend greeted him, blue eyes bright and shrewd, glowing beneath almost black brows.
    Oliver smiled up at his friend, letting his usual facade of indifference wash away. He loved that Rupert never greeted him with his new title.
    “Rupert, how are you doing this uninteresting Wednesday?” Oliver pushed out a chair in clear invitation for his friend to join him.
    Rupert grinned and called over a footman to order a whiskey.
    “I have been catching up on the latest gossip. It looks as though another of our school friends is doing the pretty. We just can’t keep our heads out of that noose it seems.” Rupert shook his head in resignation of the fate that awaited them all. Rupert would have to marry and produce an heir, he was just putting off the task as long as possible, bedding every married woman in sight.
    “Oh, who?” Oliver asked, interested for once.
    “Jamie McTavish, and he’s set to marry one of our ladies.”
    Oliver’s sat up and moved forward in his chair. This was news indeed.
    “You jest, man? He’s lowered himself to marry an Englishwoman? I’m shocked.”
    The footman set down a crystal decanter and Oliver poured a whiskey for himself and Rupert.
    Jamie McTavish was a good man, Scottish by blood and birth. His parents had sent him to London for schooling and the boys had teased him mercilessly for his accent. The Scot had put his fist through a few English faces