Embarrassment and worry for Bianca scratched and fought for the uppermost level of his concerns. He could focus on one aspect for only so long before another clawed its way to the top. Why had he kissed her so publicly? Such an act was against his nature, her reputation, and all manner of propriety. Why had he let himself feel competitive? What had he hoped to prove? And what had happened to Bianca after he’d been thrown to the floor by that ridiculous buffoon? The punch had left Mathew’s head spinning, and blood poured from his nose, saturating his shirt and sending half a dozen women into hysterics. He’d been helped to his feet and shuffled off to a room where a kindly man attended to him while he coughed and choked on his own blood. The town physician was summoned and cracked his broken nose back into place, at which point Mathew lost consciousness. Someone collected him, helped him to his carriage, gave him something for the pain, and put him to bed. He’d awoken to a fog of dissipating memory and the lingering rush of emotion.
