Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] Read Free Page B

pardon, Your Grace," said the man in a strained voice. "I was taking retribution on this wretch for having ridden off on my horse, which I left quietly hereabouts."
    The duke raised an eyeglass and studied the horse, a large beast as would be necessary for such a large rider. Then he looked at the culprit.
    "If he truly rode that horse into such a state," he said coolly, "I suggest you spare him the beating and promptly hire him as a jockey."
    Sparra imagined a lifetime of being forced to ride enormous horses and tried to choke out an objection. The hand on his collar jerked him into silence.
    At that moment, the doors of the great house opened again and a clear voice said, "What the hell—? Release the boy!"
    Then, in a different tone, drained of all emotion. "Your Grace. I did not expect you."
    The duke turned his eyeglass to look up the stairs, carpeted again in slick golden light. There Sparra's debtor stood against a backdrop of servants and gentlemen, with one petite lady in white beside him. The lady swiftly melted back out of sight. After a breathless moment, the duke let his quizzing glass fall and mounted the steps towards his heir, meticulously followed by his umbrella bearer.
    "Evidently," he said icily. "If that is your fracas, Arden, kindly remove it from the doorstep."
    He then entered his mansion and accepted the ministrations of his servants, forced to switch abruptly from the lighthearted demeanor suitable for the marquess and his friends, to the proper decorum demanded by the duke. The guests discreetly absented themselves from the hall but within minutes singing could be heard from the music room. It was not a particularly respectable song.
    As the duke was divested of his damp outer clothing he merely said, "I will retire to my suite with a light supper. Arden, I wish to see you tomorrow after breakfast."
    "Yes, sir," said the marquess impassively.
    Followed by his valet, the duke ascended the great curving staircase.
    The marquess watched his father for a moment, then looked out at the frozen, rain-soaked tableau, where the urchin was still clutched by the dumbfounded horse owner. With a shrug, he accepted the need to ruin another set of clothes and walked out into the rain as easily as if it were perfect weather.
    "You will release this boy immediately," he said coldly.
    "Oh will I?" sneered the man, misled perhaps by the marquess's dampened finery and the way he had been given orders by the duke. "Well, cockerel, this boy deserves a whipping and he'll get it, and no duke's lackey says otherwise."
    "Lay a stroke on the boy and I'll take you apart," said the marquess calmly. "I stole your horse."
    The man released Sparra, but before the boy could flee he was caught in a grasp just as strong.
    "Don't run away," was all the young nob said, but Sparra obeyed. He wasn't sure if it was fear, exhaustion, or just a trust engendered by that voice, but he did as he was told. He witnessed a grand mill.
    The "young guv" was tall and strong and probably sparred with Jackson, but the "big guv" was a lot heavier and had some science, too. Once he landed a sweeping right which sent the younger man sprawling, but he was up on his feet in a moment and retaliated with a hard fist to the fat stomach.
    By this time half a dozen young sprigs were out in the rain cheering on their friend, and a couple of passersby were giving advice, too. Sparra had never seen such a bunch of drowned swells. It'd be a grand day for the tailors tomorrow, he thought. He hoped the young guv didn't get so bashed up he forgot the dibs.
    No danger of that. It became obvious the young man had just been sparring. Despite the hard blows swung at him, he had only been touched that once. Now he began to show his skill, and in a few moves he destroyed the bigger man's guard and landed him an annihilating left hook which laid him out cold.
    Sparra's debtor surveyed his opponent and rubbed wincingly at his knuckles. "Repellent specimen. I would happily