Chapter Eighteen

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"I can see this is a family matter."

Julian had never taken Compridge for a coward. But perhaps it was for the best that the earl gathered their party and left. It would not do to have witnesses for this meeting. Especially those prone to gossip as Morian and the "ladies" were.

"You'd best find your rest, Thomas," Julian said after the others noisily left. He suddenly felt sober, which was a blessing. He needed his wits about him. "I'll tend to this matter."

Bowing, Thomas quit the room. Julian doubted his butler was happy to be sent to bed like a naughty child. However, he didn't care to have the servant observe him throwing a peer of the realm out on his arse. It would earn him a sniff and a look of disappointment from Thomas.

Turning toward said "exalted peer," Julian entered the room and shut the door behind him. "Mind telling me why you've invaded my home?"

The gentleman put down his book and came to stand toe-to-toe. "Mind telling me what you've done with my sister?" he shot back.

The blow came out of nowhere. It glanced off Julian's cheek. Had he not seen it coming in that split second before he turned his head, it would have likely bloodied his nose.

Julian squared off with Charles Chadwick, the new bloody Marquess of Bodham. He hadn't realized he needed a round of fisticuffs until his face was struck. Now, it seemed like just the thing; especially with this individual, his one-time friend turned Judas.

Shedding his jacket and vest, Julian rolled up his shirt sleeves. Then, he sneered. "I'm certain you meant to ask after my wife." So clarifying, he thrust a jab that was side-stepped.

Charles lunged and threw another punch at his face. Julian blocked it with one hand and hit his brother-in-law in the solar plexus with the other. The air rushed out of the Marquess in a very satisfying way.

"Don't forget, I spent six years in the King's service," Julian reminded his foe. They began to circle one another. "I wasn't sipping tea and eating crumpets." Seeing an opening, he took advantage. A quick jab fell solidly on his opponent's eye socket. "Unlike you," he taunted as he went back to a ready stance.

"Ow!" Charles complained as he put his hand up to his eye. "That bloody well hurt!"

The exclamation reminded Julian of Charity and their last night together. It fired his anger for it was this man's underhanded tactics that'd brought them together in the first place. Then again, this man's meddling had separated them. Perhaps for good.

A quick succession of blows, again to the solar plexus, followed as Julian vented his wrath. It all, his entire adult life, had been dictated by this man and his machinations.

Bodham fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Instinct was screaming at Julian to finish him off, but he reined it in with an iron will. This was still his wife's brother. They'd never reconcile if he did her brother irreparable harm. Or worse, killed him.

Charles leaned forward, one hand bracing himself to keep from falling face-first onto the parquet floor. The other clutched his stomach as he caught his breath. "Christ's bollocks! What the devil got into you?" he practically wheezed.

Julian left the man to recover or cast up his accounts. Whichever it was to be, he had to walk away from Charles. Striding to a side table, he poured himself a hefty dose of brandy and noticed his shaking hand. The urge to go back and finish what the other man had begun rode him. After taking a few, healthy swallows, he refilled his glass, then another. He brought the second one over to Bodham. His brother-in-law was now sitting in an undignified slump on the floor, back leaning against a chair.

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