Fortune's Dragon by Meara Platt

Author:Meara Platt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Regency
Publisher: Meara Platt
Published: 2019-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

A LIGHT MIST fell, turning the path slick as Caleb rode to Boscombe Manor in time for supper with Faith and her uncle. He knew Lord Hawley and the Marquis of Crichton would be there as well and was not looking forward to the confrontation. As though an omen, even the sea had turned turbulent, the waves crashing down with pounding force upon the rocky barrier that protected the regimental tents.

Well, he and his men had enjoyed several days of sunshine and calm waters. They were in good enough spirits to manage one impending storm.

He stabled Pharaoh himself and saw other fine horses in the Boscombe stalls, no doubt those of Hawley and the marquis. His presence at the dinner table would only make matters worse, but after the fortune teller’s warning, he had no intention of leaving Faith unprotected. Of course, Lord Boscombe would give his life for his adored niece, but he was an old man and not in good health. Caleb had no intention of allowing Lord Boscombe to shoulder the burden of protecting her alone.

He also knew that Faith would stand up for herself. But as clever as she was, a slight and slender girl of eighteen years was no match for two noblemen determined to cause trouble. He only hoped the Marquis of Crichton was not as foolish as his nephew.

“Good evening, Fleming,” he said as the trusted butler opened the door to him.

“Good evening, General Brayden. Glad you’ve arrived,” he muttered, casting him a wincing smile. “Lady Faith just told Lord Hawley she will not marry him. He isn’t taking it very well.”

“I’ll make certain he behaves himself.” Although his presence would likely ignite Hawley’s anger rather than calm it. But he preferred to have the anger directed at himself and not Faith.

He walked into the drawing room and had no chance to greet his host before Hawley lunged at him. “You! You did this to her!” Hawley took an ineffectual swing at him and then another.

Caleb easily ducked both attempts and did not counter with a punch he knew would knock the man out cold. When Hawley swung at him again, Caleb grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back to immobilize him. But he was still careful not to twist too hard and break the reckless fool’s arm. Not that he cared about Hawley, but he knew it would distress Faith.

He glanced at her and saw that her face was ashen.

Lord Boscombe stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and looking fiercely protective.

Caleb spared a glance at the marquis, surprised to find him frowning at his nephew and not at them. “Lord Crichton,” he said while holding an enraged Hawley in his iron grip, “I’ll release your nephew when he calms down. I understand his anger toward me, which is the only reason he is still conscious and not nursing a bruise to his jaw the size of a cabbage. But he’s had his moment and it is time for him to behave.

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