Page 34 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

B arbara glanced at the clock. It was almost time for Charles to arrive.

He was due to take her to a cockfight today; he had promised to call for her at ten. She had told him that this desire of hers to witness a blood sport was to win a wager. She had bet a woman’s stomach for blood sport was equally as strong as any man’s.

A ridiculous wager. But just the sort of thing people did.

She could not rid herself of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Xavier would never speak to her again, once he heard about today’s escapade. Something in her chest squeezed the breath from her lungs. It hurt more than she cared to admit.

The only good part was that after this Father would have to cast her off. Wouldn’t he?

While she had not yet heard from Charles, she had absolutely no doubt he would keep his promise.

He always had.

Even on that fatal day when Helmut had been killed in a duel. Charles had told her about her husband’s folly and taken her to the site of the duel in hopes of putting a stop to it.

They had been too late.

The men had been duelling with rapiers. When Helmut caught sight of her, he had been furious, and in his temper had left himself open to his opponent.

The rapier had pierced his heart.

As his infidelity had pierced hers.

But she hadn’t wanted him to die. It had been quite awful. For everyone. Especially Charles.

Dressed and ready, she waited in the drawing room, hoping her needlework would settle her nerves, but her fingers shook so much she couldn’t thread her needle.

Finally, the butler announced Charles, who strode in looking distinguished in a flower-embroidered waistcoat and navy blue coat. The serious expression on his face boded ill.

She gestured for him to sit on the sofa and gripped her hands in her lap. She took a deep breath. ‘I am ready to leave whenever you say.’

He frowned. ‘I am not saying you do not look beautiful, because you do, but that attire would not do at all. You would stand out like a cat in a kennel.’

Exactly as she had planned.

He leaned back against the cushion. ‘It is as well we cannot go.’

‘What?’

‘I am sorry, my dear, but there is no cockfighting today. Or tomorrow. Not until Saturday.’

Today was only Thursday. ‘Why not?’

‘It is a sport of the common classes who are working. Not until Saturday afternoon do they spend time on such pastimes.’

How stupid not to realise that. She rose and went to the window, trying to hide her disappointment. She looked down into the street at people hurrying along beneath umbrellas.

Grey and rainy. Again. Fitting, given the way she felt.

Now what was she going to do? Dance naked down Bond Street? In the rain?

Something like that and they would put her in Bedlam. Not what she wanted.

‘Nothing this evening?’

‘No. And besides, we are going to Lady Wells’s ball this evening. You promised you would go with me.’

Since Charles had told her he was also invited, she had decided it would be the perfect way to make her escape following a scandalous appearance at a cockfight. Now it seemed all her plans had gone awry.

‘Two days to wait is not such a long time,’ he said, clearly trying to ease her disappointment.

If there was any way of knowing that her father would be out of town until after Saturday, she might take the chance.

It was too risky. She shook her head. ‘I will lose the wager.’

‘Unless…’ He hesitated .

‘Unless what?’ She sat down beside him on the couch. ‘What have you thought of?’

‘Did it have to be cockfighting? You said a male blood sport.’

‘I did.’

‘Pugilism is a male sport. Boxing. It is quite bloody and violent.’

She clasped her hands in her lap. Boxing. ‘There is a boxing match?’

‘Not a match. Sparring.’

At her blank look he added, ‘Practice. Gentlemen practise boxing every day at Jackson’s saloon.’

‘Oh, practice. Like fencing.’

‘Nothing like fencing. Well, perhaps a little. It is not an actual match, but the men do hit each other. More often than not there are bruises. And sometimes a bloody nose or two.’

‘Do ladies attend this practice?’

‘I have never seen any. I would think it is far too violent for the fairer sex. At least, those who are ladies.’

It sounded perfect. ‘And when do these practices take place?’

‘All the time.’

‘You mean we could go now?’

‘We could. Do you think it will satisfy the requirements of your wager?’

‘I believe it will. Let us go.’

‘Are you sure? I think you will not enjoy it.’

She gave him a bright smile, while inside she felt a little nauseous. ‘I am sure.’

‘You will need a hat and a veil. We would not wish anyone to recognise you.’

She smiled inwardly. ‘Naturally. I will fetch my hat and coat at once.’

Xavier tried to focus on his opponent in the ring. Thinking about Barbara’s refusal of his offer and what to do about it kept spoiling his concentration.

He had to find a way to prove to her that she was making a mistake by turning him down.

Because he wanted her as his wife? Was want even a strong enough word?

He had the feeling that if she did not marry him, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

And that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

Oh, Lord, what a mess. He seemed to be going around in circles. Anger rose like a hot tide.

Thwack! A blow from his opponent to his head made his ears ring. He refused to feel the pain. He danced back and looked for an opening.

Focus.

He landed a flush hit to his sparring partner’s chin that rocked Pimm back on his heels and earned Xavier a glare of anger.

Xavier reined in his temper. Boxing was a science not a brawl.

They closed in a flurry of fists.

A stir among some of the patrons watching him spar caught his attention. He glanced in that direction. A woman ?

A glancing punch to his ribs made him wince and knocked the breath from his body. His sparring partner shook his head at him. ‘Keep your guard up, Your Grace.’

For a second, his brain did not believe what his eyes had seen.

Not just any woman. Barbara.

He took a blow to the stomach and went down to his knees. Pimm landed a blow to the side of his head. The room darkened.

Above all the other voices, he heard her cry of shock.

Someone shouted. ‘Bloody hell. The black widow.’ There were whistles and cat calls.

Xavier shook his head to clear his vision.

The trainer leaped forward and started the count.

Breathing hard, Xavier waited until the count nine and got to his feet.

There was blood dripping on his chest from his nose. Anger welled up in his chest in a hot tide.

His sparring partner put up his hands and backed away. ‘No more, Your Grace.’

The trainer, Able, a wily old pugilist long retired, climbed the ropes. ‘It is over,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll be having no temper tantrums, Your Grace.’

His anger had nothing to do with boxing and everything to do with Barbara, who stood wide-eyed among the sporting men at the edge of the ring, a hand covering her mouth. Most of the men were looking her way, either in surprise or with vulgar leers.

‘I apologise, Able. I was distracted.’

Able’s eyes followed the direction of his glance. ‘Women.’ He spat out a curse. ‘Who brought her in?’

Charles. He was already pulling her by the arm, trying to drag her away. Didn’t he realise the damage bringing her into Jackson’s would do to her reputation? Xavier was going to have strong words with the fellow. Very strong words.

As his temper subsided to dull rage, the pain from his bruised and battered body made itself known.

He accepted that pain as his due for his own lack of skill. But there was another pain in his chest he didn’t recognise. A tightening around his heart that was somehow more painful that any of the blows from his opponent’s fists.

Put there by the horror he had seen in her expression. Horror at seeing what sort of man he really was. The brute.

How could any woman understand that the only thing that kept him from being the brute he could be if he lost control was the give and take of blows he received in the ring?

Even he didn’t understand it.

He wiped his face on the towel Able handed to him and made his way to the changing room, where he allowed Able to minister to his cuts and bruises. He hardly noticed the sting of the ointment applied to a cut on his cheek.

‘Careless, Your Grace. Very careless. If I didn’t know better, I would say you had never set a foot in the ring before. Mr Jackson, he’s gonna ban you again. Good thing Pimm kept his head after that nasty hit to the jaw.’

‘Tell him I apologise.’ He pulled a few guineas from his pocket. ‘Hopefully this will make it right.’

‘Ah. It might do at that. Though I think that hit to your ribs gave him considerable satisfaction.’ Able chuckled.

Devil take it. The thought of Barbara watching all of that made him shudder.

By the time he was cleaned up and dressed, there was no sign of Barbara and the Count, but the gossip hadn’t ceased.

Julian, who had not been there earlier, approached him. ‘Did I hear aright? The Countess came to watch you box? What the devil were you thinking to invite her here?’

He glared at his friend and clenched his fist. Then slowly released his fingers. Control was everything.

He’d already let his control slip once today. It wasn’t going to happen again.

‘She was here?’ He hoped he sounded as dismissive as he intended. ‘Not at my invitation.’

‘Once this gets out, she won’t be accepted anywhere.’

He inhaled a deep breath and enjoyed the sting of pain. ‘No.’

Julian looked puzzled. ‘Don’t you care?’

Of course he cared. Deeply. Far more than he should, given that he had already decided that she was not the wife for him.

And yet…

He pushed the thought aside. He needed to get to the bottom of why the blasted Count would knowingly ruin her. Because he must have known it would.

‘No. I don’t care.’

Julian’s eyebrows shot up. ‘And here was me thinking you had finally met your match.’

‘Why the hell would you say that?’

‘Because she is the only female you have ever looked at with any kind of interest and the only one who seemed to stand up to you.’

She was. She had been. And she was the only female he had actually wanted to offer for, if he told himself the truth.

If only she hadn’t had such a scheming unpleasant father and a tendency to do things that put her beyond the pale.

How could she not know that attending an all-male preserve such as this was just as scandalous and trying to enter a gentleman’s club in St James?

He stilled.

Barbara was no fool. Was it possible she had known what she was doing all along? That she intended to ruin herself utterly?

Why on earth would she do such a thing?

Because she thought to make sure Xavier wouldn’t marry her? Would she go so far?

He recalled the things he had demanded with a wince.

‘Sorry, Your Grace. ’

‘No, no. Not you. A thought.’ A terrible realisation.

He needed to talk to her and see what he could do to make things right.