try to stop what happened next. He raised his arms open-handed and took the angry father’s hard right hook to his jaw. Brodie stumbled back, catching himself against the doorframe.
“Where the bloody hell is my daughter?” Hunt threw another punch, and Brodie knew this one would blacken his eye. After a few more hits, Ashton and Brock dragged Hunt away from him.
Blood dripped down Brodie’s chin, and his bottom lip stung. His whole face was a mass of pain as he got back to his feet. The old man was surprisingly strong. He would be lucky to see out of even one eye tomorrow.
“Brodie, where’s the lass?” his older brother demanded.
“Inside. She is safe and well. As is her sister.”
“What?” Hunt shouted. “Portia’s here too? How the devil—?”
“Easy, man,” Brodie said. “Your younger daughter only just arrived. She said she left her aunt in Brighton and traveled here alone. She thought she could rescue Lydia from me. She nearly killed me with a pistol.”
“Where are they? I demand to see them at once.” Hunt shoved past Brodie, who allowed him to storm the castle, as it were.
“Lydia! Portia!” Hunt called out as the door closed behind him.
Brodie sighed and winced. Ashton and Brock watched him solemnly.
“Christ, Brodie, do you have any idea of the trouble you’ve caused?” said his brother. “You’ll be fortunate if Hunt doesn’t challenge you to a duel.”
“That doesna bother me.” In truth, it did bother him, but after such a beating part of him would not mind shooting the old man in the leg just to even the score.
“It bloody well bothers me,” Ashton growled. “Hunt has just married Lucien Russell’s mother, which makes him practically family to me. If you kill him, it would not only break Lady Rochester’s heart, it would enrage Lucien. And believe me, you do not want that man coming for your blood. And since Brock is married to Joanna, you are my family, which means some small part of my own honor demands I defend you against one of my dearest friends. Do you see the dilemma we all face?”
Brodie nodded, but deep down he no longer cared. The day he had dreaded had finally come. He was losing Lydia. As he entered the castle’s grand hall, he found Hunt talking to his two daughters. He fiercely embraced them both, and then he berated Portia for leaving Brighton.
“You could have died!” Hunt exclaimed.
“Yes, I know, but . . .” Portia sighed dramatically and then gasped. “Papa, are you wearing a wedding band?”
Brodie felt strangely like an outsider in his own home as Hunt told his daughters about how he had married Jane Russell over an anvil.
“Oh, that’s famous!” Portia exclaimed. “How romantic! I only wish we had been there. Right, Lydia?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry we missed it, Papa.”
Lydia caught Brodie’s eye, and her excited smile faded as she noticed his battered condition.
“Brodie!” She pulled free of her father’s hand and rushed over to him, trying to touch his face.
Brodie caught her hands and gently held her at bay.
“Papa, did you do this?” Lydia demanded.
“I did. And I plan to do more once I see you and Portia safely away from here.”
“No,” Lydia said as she turned to look at her father. She was as beautiful as she was defiant in that moment. “You will not harm him ever again.”
“There is a matter of honor that must be settled, not just for me, but for Mr. Kincade as well. I have wronged him, just as he has wronged me. And to each of us I’m sure the other’s sin seems the greater. Isn’t that right, Kincade?”
The proud Scot in him was prepared to meet Hunt on the field of honor. The odds that one of them would die were great. He was an excellent shot, and while he could fire into the air, he had no guarantee that Hunt would do the same. If he could shoot as well as he punched, the odds that Hunt would kill him were high.
The problem lay with Lydia. No matter who lived and who died, Lydia would be heartbroken and would in time grow to resent the survivor. For everyone’s sake, he had to be a coward. He had to turn his back and walk away.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Hunt, but I have no honor. Take your daughters and go.”
Brodie turned on his heel and left. As he stepped into the brilliant late afternoon sunlight, a dark violent storm ravaged his heart from within.