Crenshaw pushed past him and took Katherine’s arm. “Stop those waterworks.”
His command worked.
“Yes, my lord,” Miss Wilson said. With one unladylike sniffle and a deep breath the tears ended.
“Now go back into the dining room and find your mama. Seat yourself for the next course and I will join you shortly.”
“I think I should excuse myself and put a cold cloth on my face so I do not look as if I have been crying.”
“You may do that, but do not absent yourself for too long.”
She nodded and left, eyes downcast.
“You are a pig, Crenshaw, and the sooner she knows it the better. You cannot imagine I would let her marry you without at least trying to warn her family.”
Crenshaw grabbed Jess by the cravat and pushed him against the wall. “Listen to me, Pennistan. I hold the upper hand here. You are a disgrace to your name and your family. My name is gold and yours is dross. No one will listen to you.”
“Take your hands off me.”
Crenshaw ignored him. With the skill he’d learned in the boxing ring from his brothers, Jess used his hands to force Crenshaw’s grip from his cravat and then punched him with a thoroughness that sent the big man staggering back.
“Crenshaw, the only thing that is saving you from a thrashing now is the number of people who would be shocked by violence at such a gathering.”
Crenshaw stood up, swayed, but raised his arms, ready to continue. Jess heard the sound of running footsteps and swore. This was not an exchange he wanted anyone else to witness.
Apparently Crenshaw felt the same way. He seemed to think better of continuing the fight.
“This is far from over, Pennistan.” The baron made an attempt to straighten his cravat and coat as he walked away from the banquet room. Jess did not care where he was headed as long as it was out of his sight.
Destry emerged from the banquet room, moving quickly. “What happened? Where is Crenshaw?”
“Crenshaw is down the hall wiping his bloody nose. He pushed me one more time and once too far.”
“I wish I’d been here. I would have liked to take a swing at him myself.”
“Thank you, Des.” Jess appreciated the support, even if he was relieved that there had been no witnesses but the footman.
“Des, would you go tell Mrs. Wilson that Lord Crenshaw and her daughter will return shortly, or some other lie? I should kill the bastard and be done with him. It’s what he deserves, but I am going to bed. The last thing I need now is a dance with Beatrice Brent.”
Destry cleared his throat and nodded toward a shadowed part of the corridor.
“Beatrice?” Jess closed his eyes and hoped she had not heard him.
She marched toward the two of them, her hands fisted at her sides, her expression angry and hurt at the same time. Damn it, she had heard every word.
“I will take your message to Mrs. Wilson.” Destry hurried away as though he could not move fast enough. Smart man.
“I heard what you said, that you cannot bear the thought of waltzing with me. Are you determined to make every woman you see tonight cry?”
Jess had no answer for her. He’d used up all his words and most of his civility. He could blame what he did on the anger still roiling through him, or the opposite, his need for something sweet and good, but neither was an excuse.
Jess pushed on a door across the passage from the banquet hall and pulled her through it with him.
Punching the door closed with his foot, he pressed her against it. “You want to know why I dread the thought of dancing with you?”
Now she had no answer for him. Her eyes were big with surprise, and was that a little fear he saw? Good, he thought. Now she was beginning to understand.
Pushing his fingers through the coil of her hair, he felt the luxury of it spill over his hands, the silken length of it one more caress that he took with greedy pleasure.
She closed her eyes. Standing this close he could see the lashes dark against her cheeks. He bent to kiss them and then her mouth, her lips slightly parted and, God help him, welcoming.
No wager he’d ever won had made him feel this powerful. No race he’d ever won had made him feel so elated. No woman he’d ever won had made him feel this complete. All that with no more than