Page 443 of Wicked Highland Heroes

He looked at Henry.

“That isn’t Lindsay’s room,” Henry said.

“But it was Jo’s voice.”

Nicholas turned and flung open the door. He took in Josephine bent close to her lover as she straddled him on the couch, the bodice of her dress pushed down to her waist. She bolted upright. Her breasts, pushed high by her corset, nearly spilled over the top of her chemise. She yanked her dress up over her breasts and his gaze caught on the pearls around her neck. The day her father gave her the pearls was the day Nicholas realized he loved her...the day he decided to defy both their families and marry her. Seven years ago.

Anger and hurt twisted through Nicholas. John Robert Abercrombie, the Seventh Marquess of Beaumond, lay on the couch, trousers laid open. Josephine’s dress was hitched up to reveal white, silk stockings held in place by white garters trimmed in lace.

He took four steps to the couch, seized Josephine’s arm and yanked her to her feet. Then turned his stare onto the marquess. “My sister wasn’t enough? You must have everything that belongs to me?” It hadn’t been just his sister, but she’d been the final straw, and the one that had mattered most to him…until now.

Beaumond rose and began tucking his shirt into his pants. “I didn’t take anything, as you can see.”

“We will meet tomorrow at dawn,” Nicholas said.

Josephine’s gasp was cut off by Beaumond’s snort of disdain. “I do not duel.” He fastened his pants.

“That is your misfortune,” Nicholas said. “Tomorrow morning, you will wish you had more practice.”

Josephine grabbed his arm. “Stop being stubborn, Nicholas.”

“Quiet, Jo,” he ordered.

The marquess smoothed back his hair. “I have no intention of dueling, and you would be wise to get the notion out of your head. If you got off a lucky shot that killed me, you would hang.”

“Luck will have nothing to do with it,” Nicholas said.

“Skill or luck, I won’t be there. Dueling went out of fashion years ago.”

“Fashion be damned,” Nicholas snapped.

The marquess started toward the door.

“You will be there Beaumond, or I’ll drag you out of bed and beat you.”

He stopped and turned. “I am sorry, Grayson, but even if I were predisposed to dueling, it wouldn’t be over a piece of muslin.”

Nicholas lunged and drove a fist into the marquess’ belly. Josephine cried out as Beaumond doubled over with a loud groan. Nick seized his lapel and propelled him toward Henry, who stood in the doorway. Henry caught the man and steadied him on his feet.

“See his lordship to his room, please, Henry, and be good enough to send the proper notices to his seconds.” With that, Nicholas slammed the door shut and faced Josephine.

* * *

Josephine took a step backwards before catching herself. Facing Nicholas alone was far more frightening than being caught half naked with his rival. He seized her free wrist, his fingers like manacles, and she gave a startled cry. He stared for a long moment, the dark rage now mingled with a sadness she too often saw in his brown eyes these days. Pain twisted her heart, but she kept her gaze emotionless.

He released her. “Do you hate me so much, Jo?”

His question shocked her—then she realized this reaction was exactly what she’d wanted. She still clutched her bodice in an effort at modesty and started to turn aside to slip her arms back into the sleeves, then stopped. What better way to remind him of her infidelity than to remain half naked?

Josephine gave a careless laugh. “A man can take as many lovers as he likes, and we women are to accept it, but when a woman wants the same privilege, you men take it personally. Once we are married, what’s to stop you from taking a mistress?”

“Shouldn’t I commit the crime before you make me pay for it?” he said.

“I saw you dance with Rebecca Evans the other night at Lady Graham’s soiree. For all I know, you’re already guilty.”

The hurt in his eyes deepened. “You know better than that.”

She lifted her chin. “Do I?”