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What did one do with a freshly married, drunken earl? Belle understood why Rory stayed away from her gaming hell and brothel. She didn’t want to start any rumors about him visiting her girls. She had yet to meet Lady Dallis, but her friends said that she had a heart of gold. Since Belle couldn’t take him upstairs, even to her own private chambers, Rory left her with a dilemma. The man was beyond stinking drunk. Throughout the long evening he spilled his troubles. One after another into her ear. It was dangerous, the stories concerning his father. Well, it would be to anybody else, but Belle already knew the sad tale. It was a secret she'd promised to hold and never release. For it wasn’t her secret to tell. If Belle was younger and Rory not married, she would have taken him to her bed. With his hair disheveled and his clothes in disarray, he painted an adorable picture. Rory reclined in a chair, wearing only his shirt and trousers. His words slurred as he muttered his love for Dallis. Her old heart strings tugged at unrequited love.
Rory had informed Belle this evening that he would no longer fight. She understood. While Belle would miss the profits from his handsome face, he couldn’t hide busted knuckles from a wife. Before long Lady Dallis would inquire to his injuries. From the sound of it, the poor fool had enough troubles after his row with his wife this afternoon. Belle needed to send word to Sheffield and Wilde to collect him and return Rory home to his lovely bride.
Belle rose to instruct Ned to deliver a message just as Bruno and Magnus forced their way into the bar. She only opened the bar to the gentry, not for the hired fighters. When they spotted Rory drunk, they punched their fists into their other hand. Devious smiles lit their faces at their foe from the ring being drunk off his ass. Belle spotted trouble and called for Ned and her other guards, but they couldn’t reach Rory in time.
Brutus grabbed Rory from behind, pinning his arms behind his back, and swung him around to face Magnus. The brute punched Rory in the stomach, doubling him over, but Brutus kept him standing so that he had to take the abuse Magnus threw his way. They belted punch after punch across his face. After Magnus delivered his blows, Brutus took his turn. He knocked Rory over a group of chairs, sending him flying against the wall. Brutus lifted him like a sack of flour and tossed him to Magnus, who threw him back against the wall. The whole time Rory never punched them back. He was too drunk to walk, let alone lift his arms to punch. Ned and the guards grabbed the men before they did any more damage. Belle instructed Ned to kick them out with orders to never return. Her word would spread by tomorrow and they would never find another fighting gig again. Rory wasn’t a powerful man, but his friends were.
With one look at Rory, Belle’s heart broke. The man was already on his last rope, now he had it pulled around his throat. The only good thing was that with him unconscious, Rory held no clue what befell him. Blood dripped from his nose, his lip was slit wide open and his eyes were already turning purple. How would Belle explain this mess to his wife? Well, she wouldn’t have to—Sheffield still owed her a few favors.
When Sheffield and Wilde walked in, that was how they found him. Beaten, bruised, and sleeping off a hangover on Belle’s bar room floor. She'd covered him in a blanket and watched as he slept. When her two friends arrived to escort him home, Belle described the scene. Sheffield had started laughing when he spotted Rory sprawled out drunk. His snores echoing around them. Wilde frowned at Sheffield’s humor. He understood why Sheffield laughed, but he still felt sympathy for Rory.
“How priceless. The big brute has fallen,” Sheffield said.
“For shame, Sheffield. Magnus and Brutus ambushed him. The man has enough troubles. How will you explain this to his wife?” asked Belle.
“I won’t. Rory put himself in this mess and he will be the one to clean it up. We each had to grovel for our wife’s hand for forgiveness before we married. At least he already has the ring on Dallis’s finger and doesn’t run the risk of her not forgiving him.”
“You are heartless, my friend,” Wilde muttered.
“But correct. Am I not?”
“Correct as always,” Wilde agreed.
“Well, at least clean him up before you dump him off at home,” Belle ordered.
“Thank you, Belle. Dallis is most worried about him. I made her a promise that I would bring him home once I found him.”
“I have sent out a warning on the street about the two brutes who beat him. They are no longer welcome in my establishment. If you can spread the word, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Consider it done.”
“Grab his legs, Sheffield,” Wilde said, lifting Rory’s arms.