“I’m here to see His Grace.”
“Oh,” Sweeney said, the amount he’d had to drink slowing his words. “He’s—” Sweeney looked around as if he’d been in charge of the duke and had misplaced him. He looked up to Ned, confusion on his face. “He’s here. I don’t know where.”
“Stay on the horse,” Ned said to Mrs. Estep, and he hopped down.
“Wait, this is a big horse,” she said. “You can’t leave me here on top of him.”
“You will be fine. He’s a lamb. Aren’t you, Hippocrates?” The response was a heavy sigh and cocked leg as Hippocrates demonstrated he understood he was to stand and take care of Mrs. Estep. That being settled, Ned walked up to the door, stepping over the two men in front of it, and rapped smartly.
A wigged servant in Winderton colors answered. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m here to see His Grace. Send him out.”
His eyebrows lifted all the way to his wig. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Send out the duke. Oh, never mind.” Ned backed off the step, avoiding the two men and stood where he could see the upper-floor windows. He called in his loudest voice, “Winderton, come out here.”
“Sir, you can’t do that,” the servant said.
“I am doing that,” Ned answered, opening his arms to show he had no tricks before raising his voice. “Winderton.”
The servant shut the door.
The racket caused the men on the step to rouse themselves. Sweeney stood to the side, gaping like an idiot. Ned picked up a stone and threw it at one of the windows. “Come out, Winderton. Come out here, you coward.”
In truth, it would have been impossible for Ned to make the duke do his bidding. Except the word coward awakened the others to the duke’s defense.
“His Grace is not a coward,” Dawson mumbled.
“Then have him come out here.”
To Ned’s surprise, Dawson scrambled to his feet and went inside the house.
Mrs. Estep spoke, her voice almost urgent. “Mr. Thurlowe, have you gone mad?”
“No more mad than a woman who stands in the road tossing eggs at me.”
She made an impatient sound. “You’ve proven your point. Let us leave.”
“No, I haven’t proven my point yet.”
“Except I believe you.”
“I’m not here because of you,” he answered. And that was true. This was a reckoning. If Winderton was allowed to continue with his nonsense, Mrs. Estep would bear the brunt of most of it. And that made him unreasonably angry. Nor was he doing this just to bring the duke in line. He wanted them all to be brought to heel. “Winderton.”
The door opened.
The Duke of Winderton came out. He was in shirtsleeves, breeches, and boots. His hair went every which way as if he’d just been awakened. He hadn’t been shaved and his eyes were bloodshot. Dawson fell out behind him.
“Thurlowe, what are you doing here at this hour?”
“Challenging you.”
“What?” Now the duke was waking up. “You are being a fool, Thurlowe.” He turned to reenter the house.
“No, I’m stopping a fool. What happened last night to Mrs. Estep was not right.”
The duke paused. “Last night—? Ah, yes. Last night. Did Gemma enjoy our surprise?”
Dawson and Sweeney smirked.
“Come here and ask her,” Ned challenged.
The duke looked up sharply, finally noticing Mrs. Estep on Hippocrates. “Sorry, I don’t need to.” The duke would have closed his door, but Ned blocked his movement by slamming his hand on the wood.
“You are a coward, Your Grace, and a fool. It is a terrible combination. You can’t do whatever you want around here. Maidenshop is not London and you are not that entitled. Bad behavior has consequences. There was a time when I respected you. But you are changing, growing more selfish. I’m here to knock some sense into you.”
“You would knock me, Doctor? I doubt if you could.”
“Let us see.”
“Mr. Thurlowe, please,” Mrs. Estep said. “He admitted they put the chickens in my place. I believe you now.”
Except this wasn’t about her.
Ned had paid a terrible disservice to the Logical Men’s Society when, in his eagerness to see his lectures a success, he had recruited these men. They had turned the high standards of the Society into rubbish. No one respected the group anymore, including Ned.
Well, he was going to correct his mistake and the only way to do it was to show Dawson and the others that he was stronger than Winderton in every way.
“Go home, Doctor,” the duke said. All benevolence had left his expression.
“Not until I accomplish what I came to do.”
“Pistols at dawn?” There was a sneer in the duke’s voice—although Ned doubted he’d ever dueled. At least the old Winderton, the one before he’d gone off to London who had been somewhat naïve and very earnest, would not have.
Ned named his terms. “No, bare fists. Right here. Right now.”
The others’ eyes widened. This was language they understood. Behind the duke, in the doorway, Ned noticed movement. The servants were listening.
Winderton frowned. His lips started to curve as if he was going to say no, until he seemed to realize what was at stake.
“Well?” Ned prodded.
“We shall.” Winderton acted surprised he was saying it. “Right here, right now. Are there rules?”
“Do we need them?”
“I suppose not.”
“Very well.” Ned walked back to his horse.
“Mr. Thurlowe,” Mrs. Estep pleaded, but he wasn’t interested in what she had to say. He removed his jacket and laid it on the saddle behind her.
He turned around—and that is when he realized that Winderton had followed him. The duke hit him hard right in the mouth. He fell back against Hippocrates, who was not happy.
“Right here, right now, eh?” the duke taunted.
Thankfully, the horse hadn’t budged far. He looked at Ned as if to say, Go on with it.
And so he did. The duke’s punch had caused him to bite his tongue. He could taste blood. He’d tasted it before. Ned had learned his fighting skills fending off bullies who would corner him in school. Boys knew no other way to sort out their differences, and he should have anticipated the duke’s attack because there had been no rules then, either.
However, the others, even Dawson, shouted their disapproval. They had some decency in them when they had to think for themselves.
Ned came back, ducking his head and barreling into Winderton, who was about his size. They were evenly matched. It also became apparent that Winderton had had his share of schoolroom brawls. Ned got in two good facers before the duke walloped him against the side of the head.
For what seemed like ages, they battled. Ned felt himself tire and yet the stakes were too high—especially for Mrs. Estep—to let Winderton win. The lads would make her life miserable.
And perhaps that is what gave him the advantage. Winderton was younger and actually stronger. However, Ned had purpose. He was also more cunning. He used his understanding of the human body to ensure his every blow was a powerful one.
Furthermore, he hadn’t been drinking all night, and eventually, that was what won him the day. But not before he took a beating.