“No, no, Henry. You can’t. You mustn’t.”
His face softened for a moment. “I wish only to talk. Stay here.”
Henry tore out of the room, eating up the hallway with an angry march. It took a moment for Tilly to catch up.
Henry strode by the largest library, then stopped, turning around to storm into the room. Roger spun from his spot beside the fireplace in time for Henry to march up and grab him by the shirt and shove him against the wall.
“You don’t get to touch her like that,” he snarled. “And you won’t ever again, understand?”
Roger laughed, glancing over Henry’s shoulder to study Tilly. “I was right. Leave you alone for two days and you’ve lifted your skirts for this man?”
Tilly closed her eyes, shame washing over her. She never should have fetched Henry; she should have never spent time with him. And yet not doing so wasn’t possible.
“You have no business with her anymore.” Henry shoved Roger back against the wall one more time, none too gently.
Roger laughed, urging Henry on.
“Soon, all of London will know what a whore you are, Tilly Brennan.”
Henry reached back and punched Roger.
“Bloody hell,” Roger grumbled, stumbling back a step.
“Shut your mouth, Haskett.”
Tilly rushed forward, grabbing Henry’s shirt to drag him back. There was no need for him to be involved in this trouble. It would do no good.
But it was no use. Roger ducked around her, shoving her away with his arm and grabbed Henry’s shirt. They both landed with a thud.
“What’s going on here?” the duke asked, rushing into the room and closing the door behind him. “I don’t want any trouble…”
He paused as soon as he saw her. “Miss Brennan!”
Roger and Henry continued to wrestle on the ground like a pair of snarling dogs until the duke broke them apart.
“Enough!”
The room fell silent.
“I don’t know what has happened, but we will all sort it out… like gentlemen,” the duke said, stabbing a finger into Roger’s chest. “And Miss Brennan, I will ring for a maid to bring you back to your rooms and help you.”
“No, I can see myself back, please.”
Henry threw out his hand, waving at the door, desperation burning in his dark eyes. “No, she can’t leave.”
It felt as if the air was caught in her lungs, and she was drowning. She didn’t wish to make a scene, and she certainly didn’t wish to upset Henry.
The duke approached Henry, studying him for a moment. “I will see that she is safe—”
“You can’t take her away…”
“I’m not,” the duke replied coolly. “Only, you and I have matters to discuss. I assure you, Miss Brennan will be taken care of, and we can see her after we are done talking.”
A maid entered, fetching Tilly.
“Annie, can you also ask Mr. Greenwald to meet me in my office with the document?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Tilly glanced over her shoulder as she stepped outside the room. Henry, bloody and panting for breath, pacing as if he were a caged lion. Desperate to touch her. And she understood.
She understood all of it, and she didn’t wish to be parted from him either.
Henry followed Mr. Haskett and the duke to the duke’s office, his body still vibrating with anger. Why did he ever think of leaving her alone with him?
Once inside, the duke closed the door and stood before Henry and Mr. Haskett, crossing his arms.
“I need to know what happened. And I need the truth. I don’t tolerate this kind of behavior from house guests, and a woman was injured.”
Mr. Haskett turned his head and spit on the carpet. The duke’s jaw ticked.
“I think I’m beginning to understand. Mr. Haskett, what happened?”
Henry worried his lip and rocked on the side of his boot soles, balancing, trying to tip his world back into focus. Only ten minutes prior, Tilly had stood before him, blood covering her face and sobbing. He never wished to see it again.
And the man responsible stood beside him. An arrogant arse. He was lucky to still be breathing.
