THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

                        CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Granville gazed after Eleanor’s retreating figure as she stumbled back into the ballroom.

    When she was finally in his power, as he vowed she would be soon, he would take her savagely, as she deserved. She would mock him no more.

    His look was feverish as he contemplated his revenge on her. 

    ‘Granville!’

    Granville was jolted out of his erotic fantasy at the sound of his name uttered with such force. He whirled around and stared upward.

    A man was standing half-way down the staircase above him. He was heavily built with the face of a pugilist. Granville would know Lord Langdon anywhere.

    ‘Granville, I would have a word with you.’

    Lord Langdon came down the remaining stairs and walked towards him with cat-like grace despite his bulkiness.

    Granville was reminded that Langdon was a devoted sponsor of the sport of bare-knuckle boxing and in his earlier years had been an avid participant.

    ‘Lord Langdon,’ Granville began, wondering if the other man had heard his words to Eleanor Wellesley. ‘I am at your service.’

    ‘Damn your eyes!’ Lord Langdon snarled. ‘The only service I want from you is that you stay away from Sophie Vallentine.’

    ‘Lord Langdon, you are mistaken...’

    ‘Don’t take me for a fool! She was at your house this morning. She remained there too long.’

    ‘It was not what you think,’ Granville protested.

    ‘I warn you Granville, do not get in my way,’ Lord Langdon said gutturally. ‘I value Sophie Vallentine above all other women. She is mine by rights.’

    Granville could not think what those rights might be, but it was obvious by the dangerous gleam in the other man’s eyes that he was hopelessly obsessed with Sophie and beyond reason.

    ‘Sophie and I are merely friends,’ Granville said soothingly. ‘She means nothing to me.’

    ‘You lie!’ Lord Langdon spat out the words and his face was becoming blotched with red. Granville saw him clench his fists and was alarmed that  the man intended to turn violent.

    ‘It is Warburton that you should be talking to, not me,’ Granville said hastily. ‘I know that Sophie favours him.’

    ‘Merely a passing fancy of hers. Warburton will be dealt with in due course,’ Lord Langdon said threateningly. ‘Meanwhile, I have you to deal with here and now.’

    Granville took a step back.

    ‘I pray you, sir, do not make a scene. I want no scandal attached to my name.’

    Lord Langdon regarded him closely and Granville was painfully aware that he was examining the scar. Instinctively, he put up a hand to mask it.

    ‘I warrant you did not get that in a bar brawl,’ Lord Langdon said contemptuously. ‘Not your style, eh? But it is my style, Granville. Either you give your solemn vow now that you will dissociate yourself from Sophie Vallentine entirely or you may find yourself half dead in an alleyway some night soon.’

    ‘This is outrageous!’ Granville spluttered. ‘Am I to be threatened as though I were a drink-sodden knave?’

    Lord Langdon’s lips twisted in a sneer. ‘You are not even a gentleman. I judge you to be from low beginnings.’