Page 56 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

“Winston?” Stratford squawked. “What the hell do you think you’re doing fighting?”

She ignored him as she and her opponent began to circle, and then Philips lunged at her unusually fast. Winston slipped under his arm and kicked at his knee.

Philips howled, and she danced back on the balls of her feet.

Behind her, the wagering grew fierce, but Philips was on his guard now and came at her directly. He got one brawny arm about her waist and dragged her kicking into his embrace. She fought to prevent him getting an arm about her throat, but he won that battle in the end.

He was no gentleman. He meant to choke her to win.

“Little worm,” he hissed into her ear. “You’ll see who’s the real man now.”

The noise of the crowd grew dim, and the cheering faded as her heartbeat grew louder and louder.

While she still had wits, while she still had air in her lungs, she lifted both knees up high to her chin, and then threw them down with as much force as she could muster. The momentum of her toppling weight brought them both down to the ground, but she’d succeeded in loosening Philips’ grip on her throat. She dragged in a lungful of air and rolled to her feet again.

Philips was the one who came up spitting earth, and that made her smile. “Who’s the real man now,” she taunted. “Does anyone know why Philips can be found in the kitchens before everyone else wakes so often? Does anyone besides me think he’s looking a little portly lately?”

Philips’ face turned a deep shade of red and he lowered his chin, eyes narrowing on her. Win wouldn’t say anything to embarrass Cook, but someone was known to be stealing food from the kitchen, and she had thrown the blame squarely on Philips.

“Enough. Enough!” Father cried, unwisely stepping in front of her.

However, Philips had already lunged forward. He could not stop his forward momentum and crashed into Father’s back, sending the older man flying into Win and the ground.

She squirmed under their entwined limbs in the deafening silence that followed, and then the duke shouted out, rushing forward to flip her father onto his back and repeatedly calling to him.

But there was no response.

Dazed and unsure of what to do, Winston did not resist the hands that drew her back into the crowd and held her there to watch from a distance. She stared down at her father’s still body—and feared she’d done another terrible thing to him.

But then he spluttered and groaned, clutching at the duke’s arm. “Edwin.”

Win backed farther away as her replacement went to kneel beside her father, laughing instead of offering him any comforting words.

A well-dressed man rushed to kneel at Father’s other side. He grabbed his wrist, checked his eyes, and then started asking a dozen questions, the answers Winston could barely hear.

She felt the pressure of a hand upon her shoulder and looked up. Stratford looked grim as he returned her gaze and squeezed her shoulder even tighter. He reached for her face then, turning it toward him. “You’ll need that looked at.”

Win pushed his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“We’ll discuss this matter later,” he warned quietly.

Cook rushed over and got between them. “Excuse me, my lord,” she muttered. She slapped a raw filet of beef onto Win’s face hard enough to make her cry out.

“You were magnificent,” Mrs. Derry whispered.

“Indeed,” Stratford muttered. “Right up until someone got hurt.” He turned on his heel and stalked away.

“Oh dear. I fear you might have lost his good opinion.”

“Never mind that. It’s you I worry about now. You must say something about him.” She looked over her shoulder to see Philips glowering in her direction. “He’s an animal and unfit for a lady’s company.”

“He is indeed,” Mrs. Derry agreed, linking her arm through Winston’s, and throwing a haughty glance at Philips. “The kind I shall never trust again near my kitchen.”

Winston allowed herself to be dragged to the kitchen, pushed into a chair, and offered ale. She drank it, hoping the pain might lessen if she drank enough of it quickly. A few of the kitchen maids came in, looking at Winston with great curiosity and admiration. Mrs. Derry scolded them for gawking and sent them off to start preparations for breakfast.

“How is the older man?” Winston asked. “Do you think he is hurt very badly?”

“More dazed than anything, I suspect,” Mrs. Derry murmured, turning the meat over so the cooler side was on Winston’s cheek. “Lord Nash will treat him, never you worry.”