Page 76 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

At least she wasn’t dead, thank God.

He turned his attention back to the man groaning on the floor. Nash opened the door, grasped Kersey by the seat of his breeches and the back of his shirt, and threw him out into the corridor, where he slammed into a table across the hall. An ornate vase of flowers crashed to the floor, showering the earl with water, glass, and pink blooms.

Nash grabbed Kersey’s shirt again and dragged the man toward the staircase. Much as he’d love to kill him, he’d probably swing for it, even though the rakehell deserved it more than anyone currently in Newgate. Poised at the top of the staircase, Nash pushed Kersey down the stairs. Before he’d rolled halfway down, a crowd of men had gathered at the end of the stairs. By the time Kersey hit the floor, the ladies had joined them. Nash followed him down.

“What’s going on, Wrotham?” Lord Brack peered at Lord Kersey’s blood-streaked face.

“Oh, dear Lord.” Lady John, Georgie, and the rest of the ladies crowded around. “What has happened to Lord Kersey?”

“Jane, shall I send for Mr. Putnam?” Georgie offered, backing away, her face pale.

“Is he conscious?” Fanny asked.

Brack shook the downed man’s shoulder and Kersey groaned. “He’s alive, at least. Give me a hand, Rob.” Brack and St. Just lifted Kersey, whose head lolled and knees buckled. “Why have you beaten him to a pulp, Wrotham?”

“Lord Kersey . . .” Nash paused, unsure what lie to tell. He certainly couldn’t tell the truth. “Let us say, Lord Kersey insulted me in a manner I will take from no man. As dueling is no longer in fashion, I sought satisfaction another way. Fisk.”

The butler appeared magically. “Yes, my lord?”

“Have Lord Kersey’s carriage brought around. Inform his man that his lordship has decided to return to London and needs his things packed forthwith.” Nash flexed his hand, his knuckles suddenly smarting.

“Yes, my lord.” Fisk motioned to a footman and headed up stairs.

Keeping an eye on Kersey, who seemed to be coming around, Nash sidled over to Jane. “Can you send Rose to Charlotte? She is in need of assistance.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. “Is that what this is about?” She turned toward Kersey, and Nash had to grab her arm to keep her from flying at him.

“We don’t want to bring Charlotte’s name into this,” he whispered to her. “Think of some excuse to go upstairs, other than to look in on her, then send her maid to her.”

“I can go see about Maria. She was distraught earlier—”

“Alan!” The shrill voice of Maria Wickley pierced the hall.

Nash jerked his gaze to the staircase, where the little widow was running down the steps, clad in a blue dressing gown, her dark plait bouncing on her shoulder.

She ran to Kersey and threw her arms around him. “Alan, who did this to you?”

Kersey groaned, his eyes and nose now puffy and turning dark. “Rutam.”

Mrs. Wickley whirled toward him, hands on hips, fire in her eyes. “How dare you lay hands on him? He is an earl, a peer. You had no right to touch him.”

“Mrs. Wickley—”

“Don’t you dare speak to me. Get away from him.” She started toward Nash, hand drawn back.

Nash could only stare at her. It was like being attacked by a hummingbird.

Jane grabbed her just before she swung at Nash, pulling her away from the group of onlookers. “Maria, dear, what are you doing? Here, come with me—”

“No. I must tend to Alan.” She jerked her arm out of Jane’s hand and ran back to Kersey’s side. She looked into his face, tentatively touched beneath his eye.

He flinched and she jumped, then burst into tears.

Jane went forward. “Here, my dear.” She thrust a handkerchief into Maria’s hand. “Let me send for some water. Bring him into the small reception room while we await the carriage.” She led the way, her arm around Maria’s shoulders, Kersey following assisted by Brack and St. Just.

While the others were distracted, Nash took the opportunity to run back up the stairs. He stopped a maid in the process of turning down beds and sent for Rose. He wanted to go to Charlotte himself, to make sure she was well, or as well as possible given the scene he’d interrupted, but he’d probably just make matters worse. He dragged his mind back to the business at hand and returned downstairs.

Kersey and Maria were again in the foyer, the front door open.