To Pleasure a Duke (The Husband Hunters Club 3)

Eugenie was jumping out of her skin. “Sinclair,” she hissed, tugging at his hand. “Don’t argue with them. Give them what they want.”

“Some things mean more than money,” he told her coolly, watching the two ruffians.

“Sinclair, please . . .” she began.

Sinclair raised his voice and drowned her out. “You have my money. Now go on your way and leave us alone. And make certain you keep looking over your shoulders, because one day I promise you I will be there.”

His words, or perhaps the threatening tone of his voice, seemed to give them pause, but a moment later they were nudging each other and chuckling, reconstructing their tattered courage.

“Sinclair, please give them what they want.” Eugenie’s voice was urgent.

“No.”

Seeing he meant to make a stand, Seth ordered Georgie to hold the horses, while he and his brother climbed down. They swaggered toward Sinclair, making a show of tensing their arm muscles and squeezing their fists. He realized with a sense of fatalism that they were as keen for physical combat as he.

“How are you in a fight, Your Dukeship?” Seth smirked. “I expect you only fight in them toff places where the gents always win, eh?”

“I am rather good in a fight, if I do say so myself,” Sinclair replied, readying himself for the onslaught. “And no one has ever allowed me to win.”

&nbs

p; “So you say, so you say . . .”

“You may test my words . . . if you dare,” he goaded them.

It had the desired effect. They both rushed him.

The unequal struggle was short and unedifying, but Sinclair got in one good punch to Seth’s jaw and another into his brother’s soft middle. Before he could congratulate himself, he received a blow in return that stretched him out on the ground. He lay there, his head spinning, while the two men, favoring their own hurts, hurriedly tugged off his signet ring and removed his pocket watch.

So much for making a stand.

He could hear shouting and screaming. Feeling the brush of Eugenie’s skirts he realized she was trying to push them away from him. He tried to sit up, but one good shove sent her to the ground beside him. He managed to stretch out a hand and hold her down.

“Stay there. You’ll hurt yourself,” he growled, wincing as the movement sent pain ricocheting through his aching jaw.

She crawled closer to where he lay, wriggling up his shoulders so that his head was resting gently on her lap. Her curls tickled his face. He saw the warning in her green eyes as she leaned over him, and didn’t need the press of her finger against his lips, warning him to silence.

“You’ve killed him!” she wailed. “He’s dead!”

Seth looked startled. There was blood on his lip from Sinclair’s blow. His brother backed toward his horse. “You’ve killed him, Seth,” he said. “That’s hanging, that is.”

Sinclair supposed Eugenie’s plan was to save him from more pain and drive the villains away. He was content to allow her to go ahead, but he tensed his muscles, ready to spring back into the fray if it became necessary.

“What about her?” Seth said, nodding toward Eugenie, who was keening to herself like a banshee. Rather overdoing it in Sinclair’s opinion.

Then Georgie spoke up, something which must have taken a great deal of courage. “The lady’s been kind to me,” he said, shuffling from foot to foot. “I don’t want her hurt, all right? Please, Seth.”

The brothers stood either side of him, nudging each other, working on regaining some of their bravado. “And how are you going to stop us, eh, little brother?”

At that Georgie lifted his head, eyes defiant. “I won’t help you no more. I won’t bring you no more toffs to rob.”

They were no longer laughing.

“Maybe the duke’s man is coming,” Georgie went on, with a conspiratorial glance at Sinclair. “I don’t want to end up in gaol. Do you? Can’t spend our blunt there, can we?”

He must have known his brothers well, because the threat of losing their money did the trick. They both sprang into action. One of them grabbed Georgie by the scruff of his new coat and tossed him up onto Eugenie’s horse. A moment later they were all mounted, with Sinclair’s horse tethered behind them.

Georgie followed as they wheeled around and into the woods, vanishing as quickly as they’d come. The last Sinclair saw of the boy’s face was a pale blur before the trees swallowed him up.