Drexel’s lip curled with satisfaction.
The arrogance poured off of him.
The man thought that he had won, that he had cornered Jack.
But Drexel was mistaken if he believed James would allow someone to do that to her.
Jack was a capable person. Capable of defending herself, but the rudimentary rules of society did not allow her to, and so he was going to have to do it for her.
Because the idea of Drexel putting his hands on her infuriated him. Not because she belonged to James, but because he knew Jack did not wish it, and there was no polite way for her to say no in this circumstance without causing a scene.
Drexel struck him as the vengeful sort, someone who, if denied, would have no compunction retiring to the gilded crowds, whispering of James touching her locks.
There was only one thing to do.
Drexel all but grinned at them, a mocking, superior sort of stare that was rather surprising given the fact that he was not a duke’s equal.
But the man had been a soldier, and he knew how to make war.
Apparently, he was not prepared for the fact that James might outrank him.
“I do believe the next dance is a waltz,” Drexel drawled, extending his hand to Jack. “You danced it so well with His Grace, and I found that I could not deny myself the pleasure.”
“Pleasure?” James echoed, gently moving Jack aside. “Let me explain what gives me pleasure.”
Without further warning, he seized Drexel by the lapels and dragged him into the shrubberies beside the path.
Jack let out a peep of shock at the sudden launch of Drexel into the bushes.
James hauled the man farther into the small boxed hedgerows, which kept them hidden from prying eyes.
He found himself appreciative of those who had arranged for clandestine meetings. This was not what they had been intended for, but they would suffice.
He thrust Drexel against the thick hedge. He grimaced as branches stabbed into his back.
Drexel attempted to swing at him, but before he could, James pulled his fist back and then let fly.
His knuckles cracked against Drexel’s jaw. The man was so stunned by the sudden onslaught when James had appeared so cool but moments ago that he did not offer any significant defense.
Then, collecting himself, Drexel brought his own arms down swiftly over James’s forearms.
The blow was hard enough that James released his hold and stepped back.
The two circled each other for a moment, and he realized that this was a parody of a boxer’s ring and nothing like it, for there would be no Queensbury rules here.
Drexel darted and attempted to get in a blow, but James was having none of it. This was not a polite match. This was a warning, and so he grabbed Drexel’s shoulders and brought his knee up into the man’s groin.
Drexel let out a shocked cry at the low blow. James was not above low blows when they were warranted. Only fools stuck to the rules when the safety of someone they cared about was at stake.
Drexel let out a hiss of pain, doubling over. “You’ve had her, haven’t you?” he gritted out.
James sucked in a breath, disgust coursing through him. “I should kill you here on the spot, but I don’t wish to upset the lady.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the sight of blood,” Jacqueline piped up before adding more sagely,“but he is not worth it, Stone.”
But Jack was.
His admiration for her deepened. The moment was horrifying, and yet her reply was so pithy, so perfect, that he felt his heart soar at it.