"No respect for the dead." His words came out in silent whispers, his teeth clenched.
A small smile tugged on her lips. "Respect is earned in life, my lord. When a man fails to earn respect in life, it cannot suddenly be bestowed on him simply becau...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Race Belington loved his brother.
Mothered by a whore, Race had lived a life different from the one Noah enjoyed. He was forced to go into hiding from a society who scorned and loathed him for his illegitimacy, until Noah showed up at the pub one day, rescuing Race from drunkenness and choosing to share the inheritance left by the dead marquess with him.
Noah was a kind man, and it was Race's love for him that triggered a violent instinct in his chest to protect his brother from the devices of the wench who sought to seduce him and steal from him.
He glared at Lady Atkins, oddly seeing a resemblance with his mother. Perhaps Lady Atkins did not possess his mother's lovely features, but like his mother, she was a whore. He knew women like her; women whose interests laid only in a man's title and pockets. Their desperation for money saw them following despicable courses, caring nought for the damage their shameful ways caused, bringing children into the world who would live the rest of their lives paying the price for their mother's foolishness.
"What is she doing here?" Anger laced every word as he pinned Lady Atkins to the spot with his fiery gaze, nauseated by the memory of the kiss he had witnessed between her and Noah.
"Race... You shouldn't be here." Noah's words were nearly laughable.
Annoyed, Race turned to him. "You shouldn't kiss her!" he half yelled, and Noah hesitated, embarrassment brightening his face. It was clear to Race that Noah had hoped Race hadn't witnessed the kiss.
"What if a servant had walked in on you two?"
Releasing a loud sigh, Noah crossed the room, his heavy boots pounding the wooden floors as he mounted the stairs to where Race stood.
"You shall not humiliate Lady Atkins like this," Noah whispered sharply, clasping Race's shoulder. "If we must discuss this, we shall do so upstairs in my study, alone." He made to turn Race around, but Race shrugged him off.
"Surely, Lady Atkins here must lack shame," he said, loud enough for Lady Atkins to hear. "For it is only a woman devoid of shame who would willingly sought pleasure in the bed of her dead husband's cousin!"
Anger flashed in Noah's eyes. He opened his mouth as if to defend Lady Atkins, but her next words stopped him:
"And it is only a man devoid of proper manners who would insult a woman to her face."
"This is no insult, my lady, I am simply stating a fact."
"And what, might I ask, is this?" She cocked her head, openly mocking him.
He stepped forward, clenching his teeth as he gripped the railing. "You, my lady, are a whore!"
Noah winced sharply beside him, grabbing his wrist to stop him. But Race couldn't stop, not when the woman before him was insistent on challenging him to his face, unblinking and seemingly unaffected by his words.
