Like a flame to a barn full of straw, anger sparked to life in Matthew’s chest. “My wife dances with no one but me.” He didn’t care if the whole world thought him controlling and possessive.
Boden sneered. “Thankfully, the lady appears to have a mind of her own. When she discovers you cavorting with one of your guests, perhaps she might seek a distraction. As a man who appreciates the finer things in life, I would happily oblige.”
A growl rumbled in the back of Matthew’s throat. One more word from the smug bastard and fists would be flying. “Lay a finger on my wife, and I’ll call you out. If I were you, I’d have a care. I’m at my most nimble at dawn.”
“I can vouch for that,” Miss Pearce added.
“You might have a different view once I’ve taken your wager and left you penniless.” Boden tugged at his fancy cuffs and brushed a hand through his mop of dark hair. “And when I call in your vowels, what will you do then? Desperate men often have no choice but to sell the things most precious to them.”
What the blazes was Boden suggesting? “You mean there is something I possess that you wish to buy?”
“Precisely. Of course we could forgo the card game, and I could return your vowel as payment. That way we both benefit. And it will give you an opportunity to spend time with your friend Miss Pearce.”
Lucinda inclined her head. “How generous of you to think of me, my lord,” she said though her tone held a hint of contempt.
Bile bubbled in Matthew’s gut. Surely Boden was not speaking of Priscilla. “I have no inclination to spend time with Miss Pearce, but I’ll hear your offer all the same.”
Boden gave a dandified wave. “Running an establishment like this, no doubt you’re party to many business transactions. As a member, I would pay an extortionate sum to spend one night with your wife.”
Darkness descended.
Faster than a man could blink, Matthew grabbed the snooty lord by his cravat and yanked it hard. “You arrogant bastard. I’ll see you in hell if you so much as look at my wife in the wrong way.”
Arms flailing, Boden coughed and spluttered, his eyes bulging from shock rather than lack of air. With claw-like fingers, he tried to release Matthew’s grip but to no avail.
With the strength of ten men, Matthew was determined to hold on. “Know that I do not take kindly to threats.”
“Let him go,” Lucinda whispered, pulling at his hand too. “People are staring.”
“Do you think I give a damn what these people think?”
A lady cleared her throat. “This is not the time or place to air one’s grievances.” The calm, familiar voice caught Matthew’s attention. Priscilla stepped into the fold and placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “Release Lord Boden before he chokes to death.”
Matthew ground his teeth and stared down his nose at Boden. “Disrespect my wife again, and I’ll kill you.”
Judging by the collective gasp, it seemed he’d made his point.
With a disdainful snort, Matthew released Boden’s silk cravat and brushed his hands to convey his contempt. Still, his fists throbbed with the need to punch his aquiline nose until flat.
“Assumptions were made based on the nature of our business. I’m certain Lord Boden did not mean to offend,” Priscilla said. “If he did, that would make him extremely foolish, and he does not strike me as a man who wants people to think him a fool.”
Boden sucked in a breath, straightened his attire and after a few groans and grumbles resumed a dignified air. “Forgive me.” He turned to Priscilla and bowed gracefully although his greedy gaze devoured her. “I meant no disrespect. On the contrary, I am a man who admires perfection in all things. Any insult was aimed at your husband, and him alone.”
As the anger clouding Matthew’s vision slowly dissipated, he turned to Priscilla. Dressed in a sapphire-blue gown with an enticingly low-cut bodice, she looked magnificent. His eyes weren’t the only ones drawn to the jewelled brooch nestled between the curve of her breasts.
“I’m afraid your compliment is unfounded, my lord,” Priscilla replied, and Boden was forced to look at her face. “You see, like my husband, I am far from perfect. Indeed, I fear we share the same unpredictability when threatened. I am just as likely to display unladylike bouts of violence and anger at the mere thought of another woman laying a hand on him.” Priscilla’s coy gaze swept over Lucinda. “Ah, Miss Pearce, good evening. I would apologise for my husband’s aggressive display, but I assume you’re accustomed to ungentlemanly behaviour.”
Lucinda smiled weakly. “And why would you assume that?”
With an indolent wave, Priscilla gestured to the crowd. “One does not attend parties such as these when possessed with delicate sensibilities.”
“Is that why you’re rarely in attendance?” Lucinda lifted her chin. “Do our amorous activities offend you?”
Sickened by the depths of their depravity and ashamed of his association, Matthew contemplated throwing everyone out.
“No, your activities do not offend me,” Priscilla replied. “But while passion is a thing to be celebrated, I prefer to honour my vows and focus my energy on one person as opposed to many.” She placed her hand in the crook of Matthew’s arm. “Now, if you will excuse us. I find I’m in need of air.”
Priscilla drew him out onto the terrace. Due to the early hour, the garden was deserted. The ladies were busy playing coquette, the gentlemen acting the lothario although there was nothing deceptive about their goals to seduce.