Trevor grinned, relishing the idea of putting the man in his place. With his most arrogant expression, he shot Ronnie a glare. “She is my fiancée, man. Did you think I would hide such a jewel in this backward county? We are to London where she will learn how to be a duchess.”
“A duchess!” Ronnie squawked.
Did the man know nothing? “I am grandson to the Duke of Timby.” He barely held back the “you idiot.” It was a second later when he realized that of course Ronnie knew who he was, but apparently, he wanted to be sure everyone else knew the supposed reason Mellie had chosen him over her cousin.
True to the drama in the man’s head, Ronnie’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line. “How could you, Mellie?” he asked in a loud hiss. “How could you betray everything—destiny, love, everything—for a title? You are nothing but a money-grubbing—”
His hurt ankle be damned. Trevor lifted off Mellie and punched Ronnie right in the mouth. The crowd had started to disburse, but at his action, they all halted and turned back. If Ronnie wanted a passion play, then by all means, let them have it.
“I am Trevor Harrison Anaedsley, grandson to the Duke of Timby,” he said in ringing tones. “And after my father, I will be the duke. Miss Melinda Smithson is to be my bride and in good time a duchess. If any man dare insult her again, be assured I shall do more than toss them into the shite. I shall run them through with my sword.” He lifted his gaze and looked all around. “Do you all hear and understand?”
One by one, he saw people dip their chin and nod. A few even said, “Yes, Yer Grace,” as if he had already inherited the title. His last heavy stare was for Ronnie, who had just regained his equilibrium.
With the sun at his back and his fists bunched, it was never more clear the differences between the two. Ronnie was two stone heavier and had a great deal more skill with his fists than Trevor ever guessed. Worse, the skill came not only from size, but from intelligence. He’d wager Ronnie was smarter than the average buffoon and a good deal cagier as well. And from the look of absolute hatred on his face, he wasn’t going to give up Mellie without a fight.
It didn’t matter. Mellie was never, ever going to marry this man. Trevor swore it on everything he held dear.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, his gaze locked on Ronnie’s. “She is my affianced—”
“I understand.” Ronnie’s gaze slid with angry disdain to Mellie. “And I am disgusted.”
Beside him, Mellie sighed. “Ronnie—”
Ever the dramatist, the man spun on his heels and stalked away. Just as well. That left him alone with Mellie as they hobbled their way back to their house. But after a few steps, Trevor realized that his fiancée was indeed bothered by what her cousin said. Her eyes were downcast, and her mouth had tightened into her own straight, quiet line.
“Mellie, what is the matter? Don’t be concerned about Ronnie’s nonsense. I assure you, everyone will think you have done enormously well for yourself.”
She jerked beneath his arm as if she wished to throw him off her but had stopped herself at the last moment. Then she twisted to face him. “That man is my cousin,” she said in an undertone. “And quite possibly my future husband.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I am being practical. There is no assurance that I will find a husband in London, and then what? I will have publicly thrown over Ronnie, and it takes the devil of a long time for him to get over imagined slights. Imagine a lifetime of apologizing.”
“You will find a husband in London,” he said, irritated beyond measure with her anger. She thought nothing of the sacrifice tohisreputation. That he—grandson to the Duke of Timby—had just declared a grand passion for her. He liked her well enough. Lord knows a certain part of her anatomy couldn’t get enough, but she was a cit. A woman from commerce with no pretense to good breeding. His family would have a collective fit when they heard. It might very well put his grandfather in the grave.
He understood that she was not used to this type of manipulation or deviousness. It was awkward enough for him, and he had been swimming in society’s viper-strewn waters all his life. Did she truly not understand?
“You will be sponsored by a ducal family, you will be fêted as my fiancée, you will be society’s newest morsel to be met and entertained. Everyone from the Prince Regent down to the smallest bootblack will be discussing you.”
She looked horrified, which only went to prove how very green she was about society.
He sighed and tried to make it plainer. “Debutantes strive all their lives for just that kind of introduction into society. Women have been known to proffer all sorts of bribes and promises for the reach you will have merely because you are my fiancée. Mellie, don’t you see? It will be the easiest thing in the world to find you a husband.”
“But—”
“Enough!” he snapped. He did his best to keep his voice low despite the way he’d just wrenched his damned ankle again. “If you do not trust me in this, then our endeavor is doomed from the start.”
She blinked a moment, her expression clearly troubled. He waited, his ankle and jaw a throbbing annoyance, but nothing compared to the pain of having his word questioned by a green chit who knew nothing about anything. In the end, though, she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I trust you,” she whispered.
“Good. Then trust this. I swear upon my honor, upon my family name, and upon that stupid sword my grandfather keeps perched above the mantle: I will find you a good husband. A man who is decidedlynotRonnie!”
She looked at him a long time, obviously unaware of what it meant for him to swear by his family’s sword. He was about to curse her for her stupidity when she again dipped her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
“You’re welcome,” he managed, doing his best not to sound surly.
“And now, perhaps we should get you home to a bath.”