“My blood, for instance?” Lethbridge gave a little laugh. “You will have to fight for both.”
The Earl moved forward. “This should afford us both gratification. You have a charming taste in revenge, but you have failed, Lethbridge.”
“Failed?” said Lethbridge, and looked significantly at the brooch in his hand.
“If your object was to drag my name in the mud, why, certainly!” said Rule. “My wife remains my wife. Presently you shall tell me by what means you forced her to enter your house.”
Lethbridge raised his brows. “And what makes you so sure that I had any need to employ force, my lord?”
“Merely my knowledge of her,” replied the Earl. “You have a vast deal of explaining to do, you see.”
“I don’t boast of my conquests, Rule,” Lethbridge said softly, and saw the Earl’s hand clench involuntarily. “I shall explain nothing.”
“That we shall see,” said Rule. He pushed the table down to one end of the room, against the wall, and blew out the candles on it, leaving only the pendent chandelier in the centre of the room to light them.
Lethbridge thrust the chairs back, picking up his sword from one of them, and drawing it from the scabbard. “My God, how I have waited for this,” he said suddenly. “I am glad Crosby went to you.” He put the sword down again, and began to take off his coat.
The Earl made no reply, but set about his own preparations, pulling off his top-boots, unbuckling his sword-belt, rolling up his deeply ruffled shirt-sleeves.