The Gentleman comes for Tea:

The door was ajar by the time Thomas reached it. He'd come unannounced, again, taking upon himself the liberties of a claimed suitor. But he paused before entering the small tea-room he knew Cecilia would be in; voices drifted under the door and seeped through the empty space to his ears, which pricked with the familiarity of the sounds.

      "My, what a tease you are, good sir!" her voice was higher than usual; there was a dropping feeling in his stomach.
      Thomas knew he shouldn't, but the temptation to stay concealed a moment longer was too strong. His efforts were quickly rewarded as he heard the low, rumbling sounds of masculine laughter tumbling out the door. All his muscles tensed as he paused to hear the man softly whispering something that sounded dangerously close to 'sweet nothings'. He was suddenly filled with rage for this impudent blackguard flirting with his Cecilia--and when he knew her to be obliged to him, too! For indeed, what sort of a man would stoop to such subterfuge? Thomas would not allow it; not when the stakes were so high. Not when he was in danger of losing his Lia.
       With furious vehemency, he shoved the door nearly out of its frame and strode into the room. "So," he cried, closing in on his prey, on Cecilia's unwarranted suitor, "it has come to this, has it? Well, know this; I'll not stand for it any longer! Just what were you aiming for--to steal her out from under me? And then what? Dump her on her head when someone more exciting comes along? I should hope not, for such is not the way of a gentleman as you so unfoundedly presume to be. And you," he turned on Cecilia, "what were you thinking to entertain this scoundrel?
      "Do you not know what sort of man he is--that he would take advantage of you, squander your goodness?" Thomas paused, knowing his words had  not come out as thoroughly as he'd wished, but not able to go on for the look of sheer fright on Cecilia's face.
       Clearing his throat, the intruder (whom Thomas believed to be a certain Mr. Pritchard) interjected his own sentiment, "Now look here, old chap, you seem to have been quite misinformed."
       Thomas spun to face the man, infused with anger, appalled by his forward manner. "No, you look here, old chap," he spat the repetition and continued as calmly as he was able without strangling the man, "I think it's high time you left. And if you refuse, I shall not be adverse to forcibly removing you from the premises myself." If the threat had not convinced the man, the look he shot him certainly could not be misunderstood, and Mr. Pritchard slowly left, all the while glaring a look of vengeance at Thomas Roudington.