“Just because you have beat me several times in the past does not mean I am destined to lose to you forever.”
“Speak to me when you have actually won something,” Silas stated, his voice cold as he reached for Scar’s reins.
“Do not stand there and act as though it is your efforts that have granted you your success. You’re nothing more than a privileged little tot who has had everything handed to him all his life. When it comes down to it, you would not stand a chance against me. And you know it.”
It felt as though a line had been crossed, and Agnes stepped back, watching with bated breath what would happen next.
Chapter Seven
Silas was used to Lewis making a nuisance of himself regularly.
In fact, one could say he was accustomed to it. It had long since become quite clear that the other man would never show him any form of respect, and he usually did not care about their conversations because, most of the time, he could deal with it swiftly.
But he was not prepared to do this today, much less at the very moment he was arguing with Agnes over an issue that had the same general subject. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate Lewis’s insolence.
He knew it had long since become a habit to want the things Silas had, his never-ending greed nudging him to try to make claims over the things he felt would give him an advantage, and it did not come as a surprise that he wanted to buy Scar.
The issue lay in the fact that he was being his usual self in front of Agnes – who already had several bones to pick with Silas, and he would not be surprised if she took his side. He even almost expected her to do just that.
However, she seemed intent on watching, for once not making things difficult for him, and he was not sure if he appreciated her silence or was weary of it, lest she turn around the next moment to attack him in revenge.
“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am privileged and spoiled. Stating that will not distract from the fact that you still will not have your way. I am not going to sell my horse. So, go home, Hamilton.”
“Tch,” Lewis hissed, clearly irritated that his ploy to push Silas wasn’t working. “Perhaps you should have admitted as much when grandfather was alive. Then he wouldn’t have left me as little as he did because I am clearly the better between the both of us.”
“According to whom?” Silas sighed, feeling annoyed with himself for letting this discussion go on for as long as he did. “Who exactly nominated you as the better between us? Just stating that from your lips has as much credibility as the likeliness of me becoming the King anytime in the future. You’re being quite ridiculous, and it is exhausting to deal with. Kindly leave while I’m still being patient with you.”
“Well –” Lewis began, faltering as his gaze darted to the side, and he noticed for the first time since they had started talking that a woman was standing close by. “Oh. Good day, Miss.”
The condescending look on his face turned lecherous, and Silas felt his veins fill with ice. Agnes’ eyes widened as the attention shifted to her, and she stepped back uncertainly.
“Oh, don’t be scared. I’m not – ignore the words I exchanged with this fellow. We’ve known each other for ages, so this sort of banter is quite a norm for us both. I’m Lewis Stanton, the Marquess of Hamilton. And who might you be, lovely?”
Silas nearly snorted at the idea that Agnes would be scared of him, as he had learned not too long ago just how daring she could be. Lewis was approaching her, and before Silas could consider his next course of action carefully, his arm darted out between them, and he said,
“No, Hamilton. Do not come closer. I have told you several times already there is nothing for you here.”
Lewis leveled him with an angry stare and lifted his chin defiantly.
“I am not concerned with you anymore but with this wonderful maiden. Surely you would not deprive such a precious thing of the honor of being acquainted with a real man? Because if she works for you, she must be disappointed by your awful personality.”
The Duke stepped forward, pushing at the Marquess’ shoulder, making the man take an involuntary step back.
“Watch your tongue, Hamilton. You will treat her with respect because she is not my servant but my betrothed. You may have been given leeway in the past to come here and run your mouth however you liked, but I will not stand for the display of your rakish ways around the future Duchess of Forestwood. I will not tell you again to leave my property.”
A look of irritation crossed Lewis’ face, and he stepped further back, glancing between them.
“As always, you sound so sure of yourself, Silas. But keep in mind that the situation can always change. She is not your wife yet, and engagements can always break – as easily as they have been arranged.” He glared at Silas. “And if she has the misfortune of being betrothed to you, it is only a matter of time before her dissatisfaction with you causes her to leave your side.”
He shifted his attention to Agnes and smiled brightly.
“You are welcome to celebrate my victory with me after the competition, my lady. Your future husband might have a good horse, but because of his duties as a Duke, he won't be able to train the beast enough to ensure he will win.”
Silas expected Agnes to maintain the silence she had kept from the beginning of this unnecessary interaction and was greatly surprised when she pressed against him, wrapping an arm around his and speaking in a sweet tone,
“That will be unnecessary, my lord, because we are the ones who will be crowned as the victors of the competition.”
Then her other hand ran up his back, bracing against his neck and forcing him to lower his head. His complaint left his mind when her lips brushed against his cheek, and he was left staring at her in shock as she smiled up at him, later turning her triumphant look to Lewis.