Tis the Season to Be Sinful by Adrienne Basso

came into the room. But things could turn ugly fast, and he felt compelled to be here if she needed his assistance.
    It had been quite a number of years since Richard had resorted to physical violence, but he certainly hadn’t forgotten how to land a punch square in a man’s jaw. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, Mrs. Wentworth wedged herself between the two men.
    “Gerald and I were discussing the sale of the estate,” she said quietly. “He has a few concerns.”
    “It sounded like more than a few, isn’t that right, Mr. Wentworth?” Richard asked.
    “Lord Hastings,” the earl said through clenched teeth. “That is the proper form of address for a peer of the realm.”
    Richard shrugged. “I’m an American. Titles don’t impress me much.”
    “Well, they should,” the earl replied, bristling with animosity. “They represent an established tradition of honor and integrity.”
    “No disrespect to your traditions, but in my world a man’s worth is judged by his accomplishments, as well as his actions. Character is not measured by birth, but instead by deeds. And I never thought there was anything remotely honorable in bullying a helpless woman.”
    The earl and Mrs. Wentworth stared at him in openmouthed astonishment. Richard crossed his arms over his chest and waited. As he expected, the earl exploded.
    “This is none of your bloody business. And you had best keep your remarks to yourself, especially when you are unaware of all the facts. I can assure you, Mrs. Wentworth is more than capable of inciting a man to violence. Restraining myself takes Herculean efforts.”
    “You must forgive me if I don’t applaud,” Richard drawled.
    The earl’s mouth opened and closed like a caught fish. The aristocracy might enjoy letting people know they firmly believed themselves to be superior in every way, yet it hardly seemed true at the moment. The earl was acting like a fool.
    “As the head of the family, it is my responsibility to set an example of respectability and decorum,” the earl huffed. “Selling you my nephew’s estate is a breech of that covenant and I will not stand for it. Under any circumstances. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
    Richard cut him off with an impatient gesture. “I possess a legal document signed by Mrs. Wentworth and myself that states otherwise. For a man who claims such great concern for his family name, you seem very eager to drag it through the courts.” Richard rocked back on his heels. “And the scandal sheets.”
    “Are you threatening me?” the earl asked, halting his tirade.
    “Merely stating the facts, your lordship, since you seem to like them so much.” Richard glanced out the window and saw how dark it had grown. A storm was on the way—perhaps one to rival the tempest taking place in this very room?
    The earl shot him a look of pure disgust. “I suppose this means you won’t behave like a gentleman and withdraw your offer?”
    “You suppose correctly.”
    “This is far from over, Harper,” the earl said, puffing out his barrel chest. Richard took a long look at him and knew it wasn’t an idle threat.
    “Then I guess I’ll see you in court. Have a pleasant day, Gerald.”
    The familiar use of his first name rankled the earl, as Richard knew it would. Casting him a scowl teeming with resentment and anger, Gerald stalked out of the room, slamming the drawing room door on his way out.
    There was a long moment of quiet until the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. Richard hoped a teeming rain was on the way, one that would give the earl a royal soaking. Perhaps it would cool off his hot head.
    Mrs. Wentworth sighed, then pressed her lips into a thin line. “Well, that was unpleasant.”
    “He did seem rather upset.” Richard trudged to the window and gazed outside, glad to see the rain had started falling. “I gather old Gerald riles easily.”
    “You could say that.”
    Richard brushed a speck of lint off the black sleeve of his jacket.