“You thought she was Lady Starling, didn’t you?” Peter had the right of it. Would anyone else come to this conclusion or would the rabid lot conclude he’d intentionally ravish an honorable lady against her will? Or would they think she’d been a consenting participant? Good God, that would almost be worse. 

 

“Mistake,” he managed around the blood filling his mouth. 

 

“Big mistake,” Mantis agreed. 

 

“Huge mistake,” Peter added. 

 

Although Chase had barely been moving his feet, apparently they’d been making good time as the three of them rounded the corner to the front of the house just as Greys’ elegant carriage jerked to a halt. The door flew open, revealing the marquess himself, looking surprisingly composed as he gestured for them to climb in. 

 

“Not well done at all, Chaswick.” Greys’ tone dripped with disappointment. 

 

“I’m an ass,” Chase muttered, dabbing at his mouth. 

 

“No one has ever doubted that.” Mantis shoved him from behind. “But tonight you’ve become an ass and a beast.” 

 

“A depraved beast,” Peter, offered helpfully while dragging Chase onto the leather bench. 

 

“Apologize. I need to apologize. Where did they take her?” God in heaven. Chase hadn’t even had a chance to explain to her. “I never would have touched her if I’d known. Oh, hell, this is a mess.” A ham-fisted, codpiece-shattering bloody mess. 

 

“More of a catastrophe,” Peter said. 

 

Chase slid off the bench seat onto his haunches. He couldn’t just abandon her here after that! “I need to apologize to her. I can’t just drive off now—” But before he could push his way out of the carriage, the door slammed in his face. 

 

“Don’t be a fool. They won’t allow you within a hundred feet of her tonight.” Greys’ handkerchief appeared in front of Chase. 

 

He wiped at his eye and then his mouth, spitting blood into it at the same time. 

 

Damn Stone, what the hell was his fist made of anyway? Granite? 

 

“I can’t leave without talking to her.” Chase made to move toward the door again but this time was thrown against the seat by his own momentum when the coach leapt into motion. 

 

“Lady Westerley’s coach just pulled up behind us. Lady Bethany will be whisked away as well.” Greys’ explanation didn’t really help. 

 

“I need to tell her I didn’t mean…” Chase spit more blood into the handkerchief, experiencing the mildest of relief when he didn’t see any teeth. Would serve him right, though. He deserved to lose an entire mouthful. 

 

“Was it as bad as… it seems?” he dared to ask. God in heaven. Had society truly witnessed his hand on Lady Bethany Fitzwilliam’s bare bottom? 

 

Her sweetly rounded, soft, and tender bottom? 

 

Spanking her? Hell’s bells, he’d nearly done so much more— The thought sent white stars spinning in his vision. 

 

Her brother would call him out. He was going to have to duel his best friend.