Fat, chapped fingers gripped her shoulder. His head fell forward as he ogled her breasts. Priscilla stepped back, but his grip was firm.
“One kiss, just to see if you like it.” Mullworth puckered his lips which brought relief from his repugnant breath. Both hands settled on her shoulders. “Just one before its time to leave.”
Priscilla struggled to raise her arms. She kicked out, but the man was too drunk to care.
“Come on,” he continued as she turned her head away to avoid his kiss. “Chandler won’t object. The guests' needs always come first.”
“Let me go, Mr Mullworth, or I’ll scream.”
A growl resonated from the back of his throat. “You’ll kiss me, woman, else I shall withdraw my membership.”
“Consider it done.” Matthew’s deep, masculine roar filled the room. “Right after I’ve knocked your damn teeth down your throat. Now, get your filthy hands off my wife.”
Relief coursed through Priscilla’s veins. As soon as Mullworth released her, she sagged to the floor.
Mullworth swung around and raised his hands as a shield. “There’s no need for violence, Chandler.”
“Oh, there’s every need.” Matthew took a step forward. He had the air of the Devil: dark, menacing, utterly terrifying.
Priscilla shuffled back.
“I thought the chit was interested. A fellow can’t help it if he’s misread the sig
ns.”
“Course not.” Matthew crossed the room in a few strides. “Just so there can be no confusion in future, let this act as a reminder.” With a few short, sharp jabs, Matthew punched Mr Mullworth in the stomach. The man’s shrill cries filled the room. He reeled, staggering back a few steps. “And maybe one more in case your memory fails you.” One uppercut to the chin sent Mr Mullworth up into the air, and he landed with a thud.
Priscilla gasped.
Matthew marched to the bedchamber door, turned the key in the lock, yanked it open and stomped out onto the landing. “John,” he shouted over the balustrade. “Come up here and get this good-for-nothing piece of shite out of my home.”
Within seconds, John and Hopkins appeared at her door. Both men entered the room, their frantic gazes focusing on the lifeless lump. The butler’s face turned ashen when he noticed her crouched on the floor.
“Forgive me, madam.” Hopkins inclined his head. “Our task was to protect you, and we have failed.”
“It’s all right, Hopkins. There’s no harm done.” The tremble in her voice said otherwise.
John’s face flushed, and he pursed his lips. “It’s my fault, madam. I left my post.”
Matthew sighed and thrust his hand through his hair. “It is no one’s fault but mine.” He shook his head, though struggled to look at her. “Now, throw this oaf into his carriage. Inform his coachman that if I see him within a hundred yards of my home, there’ll be hell to pay.”
The servants nodded, heaved Mr Mullworth to his feet, took an arm each and carried him out.
Matthew followed them onto the landing. “Find Lawson and Pike. I want everyone out of the house. Check the summerhouse and scour the garden. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be down to help. Follow the procedure we use in case of a fire. That should prevent any arguments.”
The men’s mumbled replies were barely audible through the din below.
Expressing a weary sigh, Matthew returned to the room and closed the door.
For a few seconds he stood there and stared at her, his mouth drawn into a thin, sombre line. What she regarded as sparkling emerald eyes were now the colour of the sea on a dull overcast day.
“I’m sorry.” The words breezed from his lips on a whisper.
Priscilla stood. “You weren’t to know.”
It was as though they were standing on opposite sides of a valley, the space between them vast, growing wider by the minute.
The gaunt, haunted look in his eyes marred his handsome face. “When I saw him in here … when I …”