Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1)

by Maggie Jagger

Chapter 34

  Consideration had no time for niceties. It was late, almost midnight. He’d ridden a long way to London with his insides still aching from the viscount’s blows. He glared at Molly as she stood framed in the doorway at the back of the house. “Tell me where she is. Where has he taken her?”

  He’d rescue Lizzie from her rapacious husband if it was the last thing he did. For the moment, he meant to follow his father’s advice and not insist on carnal pleasure as soon as he had the lady in his power. But surely she’d return his love when he’d saved her from her brute of a husband.

  From the kitchen door, Molly stared at his fading bruises. “How should I know? Not that it’s any business of yours, Mr. Felmont. Husband and wife are together. Leave well enough alone is my advice.”

  “Tell me where she is. Where has he taken her?” Con crowded her backwards into the kitchen.

  “How should I know?” Molly repeated in an annoyed tone.

  He closed the door and glanced around the room. They were alone. “I am not leaving until I know where that blackguard has taken Lady Felmont. Don’t make me use force.” Not that he had ever used force on a woman, except for the barmaid at the Cock and Bull that one time, just to make her let go.

  “I’d like to see you try, my sweet boy,” Molly sneered, using his father’s words.

  Con grabbed her by an arm and squeezed carefully so as not to leave a bruise.

  Her answering fist in his stomach took him entirely by surprise. He knew women fought, had seen them punch with some science in matches fought half-naked. To be on the receiving end of a surprisingly strong arm, took his breath away.

  He shook her like a terrier with a rat. “Where are they?”

  Some minutes later, Angel Anston stood at the top of the steps leading into the kitchen, to find Molly gasping for breath, trying to stuff a long Felmont nose into the coal scuttle as she wrestled with a man on the floor in front of the hearth.

  The gentleman resisted her efforts with vigor, somewhat at a disadvantage due to what seemed like an injury to his ballocks. When the man’s head disappeared under Molly’s skirts in another of her attempts to smother him or break his Felmont neck, Angel decided to stop it.

  He coughed.

  His belly did not encourage him to try that again. Instead, he tipped over a bucket of slops kept under the scrubbed table. The resulting mess drenched the contestants.

  Molly climbed off the gentleman’s shoulders. She glared at Angel as if he were at fault and slammed out the door.

  The Felmont struggled off the flagstones with many groans and gasps. He could not stand upright, only managed to crawl to the settle where he rested to catch his breath and wait for the pain to release him.

  Angel leaned against the table. How did one, with any honor, kill a man who had just lost a fight with a woman?

  He couldn’t do it and felt the loss in his soul. “A noble effort, Felmont. My advice is never to fight with a woman unless you are willing to die for your victory.” His voice sounded feeble. The threat not felt by either of them.

  “Damn near did die!” The man laughed in a good-natured way between gasps of pain.

  Angel would have known him for a Felmont from his sense of humor.

  “Couldn’t punch her. Deuce! Just give me a moment.”

  “Take as many as you need.” It was impossible to stay without joining in the laughter. His belly detested laughter. “Be warned, Dace is tempered in war. He’d kill you, not just try.”

  Angel had lied about Dacey Felmont’s skill with sword and pistol until the youngster had bested him in a very unfair fight. He’d never fought drunk again.

  He went to see how Molly dealt with victory.

  She strode around the area muttering to herself, slashing the darkness with her fist, flapping her skirts. Most of the slops had soaked in or fallen off. She stopped to shout at him. “What are you doing out here? Sit down!”

  He perched on the low windowsill.

  “If I’d gone with my Will, he’d not have died,” she cried.

  “You are not as strong as you want to be, none of us are. Cannonballs, rockets, bullets. They punch back.”

  Molly roared, “I knackered Consideration Felmont!” She stamped through the moonlit puddles not heeding the arcs of silvered water sent up from her clogs.

  “He deserved it,” said Angel.

  “Don’t tell him where they are.”

  “All Felmonts return to Felmont’s Folly, don’t they? Sooner or later, they must return.” He held his belly before he ventured a laugh. “I have always wanted to see it.”