Hard & Fast is a regency novella of 30,000 words and is published in “SPEAK ITS NAME“, a three-author, three-novella anthology, by Linden Bay Romance on 1st June 2008 with fellow authors Lee Rowan and Charlie Cochrane) (ebook and then print)

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The door opened and I stood pacing and stood at ease, with what I hoped was a not unattractive expression of interest on my face.

“It’s all right, Chaloner,” said Heyward as the door closed behind him, “you don’t need waste the faux moon calf on me.” He limped across the room and sat down, waving for me to do the same. Perching on the edge of seat I gave him attention. He was dressed in sombre colours as he had before, his only concession to dandy-ism were a few fobs; one holding a seal, and several others with stones the names of which I knew not. He was giving me the careful scrutiny I was affording him and neither of us, by the scowl which was adorning his features at least, was happy about it.

“I think we can be blunt about matters, Chaloner,” he said at last. “You want to marry my cousin, and I think that all of England knows it by now. Correct?”

Embarrassed at his frankness I stood and moved back to the fireplace to give myself a moment to consider. When I turned again to face him, he was standing also; his expression dark.

I swallowed the irritation I was beginning to find normal in his presence, an irrational need to shake him like a terrier would a rat, and took a deep breath, affecting boredom. “Shall we then consider that we have already greeted each other like civilised men, Heyward. I have spoken, perhaps about the weather, the unseasonal chill and gloom of the season which should already be full of flowers and is not. You, I’m sure, have acquaintance in Bath and have relayed an amusing story of something that happened last season. We shall talk for awhile about horses, perhaps you’ll,” I looked scathingly at his infirmity, “ask me about the war, and I shall gloss modestly over any heroism I may have done. Eventually, over our second sherry,” I looked down at my empty hand and gave a look of mock surprise, “we might, with some delicacy, move to more tender subjects.”

I thought he was going to explode, and for a moment I wondered if I had gone too far. That thought lasted no more than a second; for if he was already persuaded to take against me, it was better that we knew where we stood. I was no dissembler; I could not solicit his good regard if he was determined not to give it, but I was going to find out why or be expelled in the attempt of it.

“For whatever reason you have for taking against me without making my acquaintance, Heyward, I wish you would explain it, for I am tired of being frowned at as if I were some quiz.”

He moved closer, and to my surprise his expression was mild, almost curious. I wondered how many times he had been in this position - for I was now certain it was the fact he thought I was no more than a trophy hunter, and from a certain perspective, I was - even if I had only just discovered that fact for myself.

He was very close to me by the fireplace, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. He looked a little flushed as if he had been drinking but there was no scent of it that I could discern. He reached out and I thought for a moment that he was going to touch me. At the idea of it my heart leapt in surprise and I felt a strange and not unpleasant warmth in my loins, which shook me to the core. Immediately afterwards I had that sensation of violence again; there was nothing I wanted more but to hold him by the shoulders and shake him until he lost that smug expression. However he did not encourage me to manslaughter; all he did was to pull the bell-pull, which I was blocking. A servant arrived, poured some Tokay and left. He raised his glass to me. “I think first blood then, goes to you.”