Chapter 88

"Charles! I want a private word with you immediately." The Duchess of Essex tapped her foot and pointed to the door. Charles rose from his chair, and the others at the table looked away in various directions. No one would save him from Emily's wrath, it seemed. Cowards.

He shouldn't have challenged Anne. He realized his mistake now. But if Emily was going to lecture him, he'd not make it easy for her.

"Today, if you please," Emily commanded.

With an exaggerated sigh, Charles followed her into the hallway, where she turned and punched him in the chest with a little balled fist. She moved to strike him again, but Charles blocked the blow with his forearm, acting so instinctively that he didn't even realize he'd moved. The pugilist in him always managed to rise to the surface, it seemed. He grabbed her delicate wrist before she could assault him a third time. He was so annoyed that she'd resorted to striking him that he kept her wrist locked in his grasp.