The Moonstone Marquess (The Moonstone Landing Book 2) by Meara Platt

Author:Meara Platt [Platt, Meara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Cormac grabbed the pistol out of the Earl of Rothmere’s hand as the man crumpled to the floor. “Search him for weapons,” he ordered Melrose, then turned to his two footmen. “Are you all right?”

The men nodded and muttered their effusive thanks.

“Good.” He gave each a pat on the shoulder. “Assist Melrose. Check Lord Rothmere’s boots. Feel along his jacket for a secret pocket. Once you are certain he has no weapons on him, tie him up securely.”

“Must you do that?” Lady Rothmere asked, wringing her hands as she stared at her husband, who was now groaning and attempting to sit up.

“I would have been within my rights to make you a widow,” Cormac snapped back. “What sent him here in a mad rage?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was too overset to listen to his rantings.”

Cormac knelt beside the man. “Rothmere, what the hell were you thinking?” He did not appear to be drunk, so what had put him in a temper?

“You have everything, Burness. Must you steal my wife, too? I will not grant her a divorce. She will never marry you.”

“Dear heaven, where did you hear such utter tripe? I did not steal your wife. Nor do I have any desire to marry her. I did not even know she would be here until she came along with Lord Crawford and his party.”

The earl delicately rubbed his jaw to check whether it was broken.

Well, Cormac had given the man a hard punch, but had been careful not to hit him harder than necessary.

“The scandal is out, so you needn’t deny it.”

“What scandal?” Cormac asked. “I will deny it. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Lord Crawford now stepped forward. “Burness is telling you the truth. It is just a house party. A group of friends getting together to console me over the loss of my brother. There is nothing devious going on here.”

“Someone played you for a fool, Rothmere,” Cormac said. “Who told you this nonsense about me and your wife?”

Lord Rothmere refused to say.

“Must I beat it out of you?” Cormac wouldn’t, of course. But the man did not know this.

“A reliable source.”

Cormac itched to hit this dolt again. “Obviously not reliable. You might have killed innocent people in your outburst. And do not be so stupid as to challenge me to a duel. Even with one arm, I could easily best you. All that would do is make you dead.”

“But my wife—”

“Drinks too much and has shockingly loose morals, but she is quite fond of her status and has no intention of ending your farce of a marriage. No, Lord Rothmere. You are stuck with her until you take your last breath.”

“Really, Burness,” the countess said. “Must you be so crude?”

“I am being the soul of reason. By all rights, your husband should be dead. No one walks into my house and points a pistol at my guests or staff without risking his own life. Your husband is alive now only because I am feeling magnanimous.

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