Free The Duke's Reform by Fenella J Miller Page A

‘No-one treats me with disrespect. Be very
sure every house in Town will hear of this.’
          Two gentlemen
were hovering behind their friend. The shorter one, he misremembered his name,
stepped forward.
     'It's a disgrace, Rochester.
Sir John did no more than exchange pleasantries with your wife and she struck
him down with a candlestick. He will demand substantial reparation for this
outrage.'
          Without
hesitation Alexander grabbed the speaker by his cravat, lifting him bodily and
shaking him like a rat. 'If my wife was obliged to strike Farnham then it can
be for only one reason. He made improper advances.' He tossed the man aside and
he fell like an empty coat to the boards.
          The second man
instantly dodged behind the chair in which the bastard sat. Alexander wanted to
throttle Farnham. He loomed over the seated man and Farnham flinched. Isobel
would never encourage a gentleman to take liberties; she kept herself apart
from his friends and hated every moment he forced her to act as his hostess.
          Farnham shrank
against the chair back. Alexander decided he wasn't worth the trouble. 'You
    and your associates will depart from here
immediately. If I discover you when I rise tomorrow I shan't hesitate to kill
you.'
    As he left the room he heard Farnham
call after him. ‘You will pay for this, Rochester. I never forget a slight.’
          Alexander
ignored the comment. The man was of no account. The matter here was dealt with,
but there were still his other guests. Before he entered the grand
drawing-room, he needed more brandy to steady his nerves. He detoured to his study,
his private sanctum into which no one ventured without invitation. He was
shocked to find his hands were trembling— another drink should settle him down.
           This
incident would take more than diplomacy to defuse. His anger turned towards
Isobel. Hadn't he warned her that this kind of behaviour was unacceptable, would not be tolerated or excused a second time? Whatever the
provocation, the family name was sacrosanct, it must never be besmirched.
Striking a man with a candlestick in front of his guests was going to send
ripples throughout the ton . The people he'd gathered around him would
not hesitate to gossip about what had happened.
     He stepped into the
drawing-room and viewed the assembly through narrowed eyes. There was not a
person among them he would wish to call a friend—they were sycophants and
hangers on. Some, like him, aristocrats, but others merely on the fringe of
Society, there to lap up what largesse he was prepared to throw their way. He
shook his head and regretted it, almost losing his balance. He cared not what
this assortment of scroungers thought about his family. They could all depart
the following morning. The shooting party was over. His icy stare sent
shockwaves around the chamber and gradually the chatter stopped and every head
turned his way.
           'I regret
that you were obliged to witness the unfortunate incident. Farnham has been
dealt with. You’ll understand I am obliged to ask you all to leave at first
light tomorrow morning.'
          Turning his back
on the silent group he stalked out. He would not demean himself by asking for
their discretion knowing the incident would be all over Town whatever he said.
Over the years his intimate friends had dropped him. He was married to a barren
wife. But the one thing he could rely on, was
the family name. Tonight Isobel had bought it into disrepute and this could not
go unpunished. He returned to the study to allow his guests to retire for the
night. Whilst he waited he finished a decanter of brandy.
           The house
wasn’t silent until after midnight. Time for a reckoning. He could not blame his wife for being childless. The least she could do was
behave with decorum. He paused, heartsick and lonely. Even in his befuddled
state he understood the fault was not hers—but his. He was a pitiful