Page 37

Twenty-Six

The prizefight was taking place in a large brick warehouse near the docks.

The air smelled of old fish and decay, the sort of stench that constantly clung to the Thames.

Despite the fact that she and Simon had no future—she had discussed this ad nauseam with Jenny and they had both concluded it was true—and Eliza had promised him that she wouldn’t go back to Whitechapel, she could not not go to his brawl.

Eliza had left Cora’s home a couple hours earlier.

She had known the fight was tonight, but not the time nor the precise location beyond the fact that it would be in Whitechapel.

Her plan had been to get as close to the area as a hansom would take her and then find her way on foot.

She reasoned that a lot of people would be attending, so it wouldn’t be difficult to find.

Happily, she needn’t have worried. Mr. Dunn had fallen into step behind her not long after she had left to go to the nearest hansom stand. Not content to let the foolishness play out, Eliza had turned to confront him.

“Mr. Dunn, I am both surprised and unsurprised to see you here.”

He had grinned with a hint of sheepishness about himself. “Simon asked me to come because he knew you would likely try to attend the brawl.”

“Then you’ve come to stop me?”

“That was Simon’s intention, but I’ve a mind of my own.”

Her interest piqued, she had asked, “Then what do you intend?”

His smile had widened. “I reckon a man should have the woman he loves at his side on an evening such as this.”

She had been too stunned to do anything but fall in stride beside him as he led her to a hansom. Now they were at the fight together and she was very thankful for his presence.

A lump had lodged itself in her stomach ever since she had seen Simon at the wedding breakfast about a week ago.

It had only increased in intensity as the days wore on.

She feared that Brody would do something underhanded and Simon would have no one there to help him.

Not that she could be much help, but she could at least witness the crime if one were to happen.

This irrational fear had only worsened when Cora and Devonworth had left for Italy a couple of days after the wedding.

They had received a note that Devonworth’s younger brother—Mainwaring’s travel companion—had found himself in trouble with the authorities in Rome and they’d gone to retrieve him.

That only meant that Mainwaring would be returning early.

That meant her wedding to him would happen sooner rather than later.

Both combined was enough to put her off food for days. She simply had to see Simon again and assure herself that he made it through this.

“Stay near to me now, bird.” Mr. Dunn’s rough voice was low enough that it only reached her ears, she hoped. Some of the men near them looked as if they might take it up as a personal challenge.

She tightened her grip on his arm and followed his weaving through the crowd of men, women, and children who were here to watch the fight.

Most of them were honest, hardworking people.

The men were most likely dockworkers and laborers.

The women she imagined worked at the nearby match factory, the shops, and the alleys of Whitechapel.

Children darted through the crowd in packs.

Brody must have men here, too, and the brawler from Devil’s Acre would have brought some.

They would be here to cause mayhem if the possibility presented itself.

Eliza had minded Simon’s warning about her purse and kept a little drawstring pouch in her bodice this time so that it couldn’t be easily nicked.

The brawl hadn’t started yet, but the area around the warehouse was already busy and crawling with people hoping to get inside.

Hawkers worked their way through the crowd selling everything from meat pies to little dolls made from flour sacks that were meant to be the prizefighters.

Their yells, intended to be heard above the din of the crowd, only added to the feeling of chaos.

This wasn’t at all like the fight at Montague Club.

“Do you see him?” she asked the very second they made their way inside.

Mr. Dunn was taller than her, but even he couldn’t see over the people in front of them. He shook his head and said, “Hasn’t come out yet.”

The air held a formidable energy. She assumed it was due to the amount of money wagered on the match. She had found that when fortunes were at stake, people could be unpredictable and given to outrageous things.

The smell in the warehouse was as pungent as that outside.

The fish and earthy decay was replaced by sweating bodies, smoke of various kinds from cigarettes to cigars, and the pungent scent of mold.

The warehouse appeared to be old and dilapidated with crumbling mortar between the bricks.

Brick pillars lined the inside, but one of them had crumbled at some point in the last decade and left a mountain of bricks that several boys stood upon to get a better view.

Wooden crates lined the edges of the large space, piled three and four high.

Some young men and boys had worked their way to the top of those stacks and sat there looking down on them.

One group found sport in spitting down wads of tobacco-browned saliva on unsuspecting victims and would laugh uproariously when the person inevitably yelled in outrage.

Eliza drew closer to Mr. Dunn and directed him away from that side.

He laughed when he saw what was happening and obliged her, making a line past the group ahead of them that had turned to watch the boys on the crates.

This helped them get closer to the front and brought the fighting ring into sight.

Eight metal stakes were planted in between the cobblestones with a double line of rope stretched tight between them to form a square of roughly fifteen feet on each side.

Tall barrels had been set outside each corner and one at the midpoint of each rope section, presumably to keep the crowd back.

A young man stood on one of the corner barrels calling out bets while a man at his side wrote them down.

There was a set of wooden risers on the opposite side from Eliza and Mr. Dunn.

A group of around fifteen men stood there to get a better view.

She recognized Brody immediately. A burning cigar was clamped between his teeth and a conniving grin curved his lips.

She disliked this man immensely. The men surrounding him were likely all on his payroll.

Men who wouldn’t hesitate to do evil deeds.

Men who wouldn’t hesitate to harm Simon, Daisy, or even her if Brody instructed them to.

She didn’t know the odds of any of them recognizing her from their one encounter, but she kept her head down so that they wouldn’t notice her, just in case.

Mr. Dunn also seemed to pull back into the crowd, making sure they were in the third row and not as in the open.

Nerves swirled in her stomach, and not the good kind like when she saw Simon.

This place seemed very dangerous, the tension on the verge of explosion, and she didn’t like that so much of the success or failure of the night was carried on Simon’s shoulders.

What would this crowd do if he lost? What would they do if he won?

There would be no pleasing everyone. What would Brody do if Simon didn’t perform as he wanted? It didn’t bear thinking about.

The warehouse was filled to the breaking point, and she could see shadowy figures outside the windows and spilling through the large open door that indicated there were at least a hundred people outside trying to see what was happening.

The press was very nearly cloying. Sweat trickled down her back and she tugged at the collar of her high-necked dress trying to get some air.

Thankfully, an older man in a suit came out and climbed through the ropes to the middle of the ring.

He held his hands up as if to call for quiet, an impossibility with this crowd.

He looked to be a former fighter himself.

His arms seemed muscled under his coat and his stomach padded with a thick layer of muscle and fat.

His very presence demanded respect, and some did quiet down, though a din still continued from the back.

He inclined his head to Brody, who held up his hand, tipping the cigar in a gesture of goodwill.

From her vantage point, Eliza had a clear view down a dark corridor that led to a back door.

The warehouse wall made up one side of the corridor while a room made up the other.

A man had come in through the back door flanked by two men.

He was shirtless and wore knee breeches and thick hide boots.

He had a swarthy appearance, his skin weather-beaten and tanned, as if he’d been a sailor at some point in his life.

His multicolored hair was cropped short but frizzed at the neck with streaks of gray and blond intermingled with dark.

His full beard was black, and that coupled with his complexion put her in mind of the pirate Blackbeard.

His appearance at the ring was met with a combination of huzzahs and hisses.

Unlike Simon’s last opponent, this man appeared well muscled and as if he knew his way around a fight.

His expression was closed and drawn tight with anger and an innate hostility.

He was focused on winning this brawl and not on fawning for the crowd.

In fact, it appeared that he might want to take on a few of the men who were taunting him.

“That’s Rouse,” Mr. Dunn leaned over and said near her ear.

“Is he the favored?” she asked.

Mr. Dunn shook his head. “No, the Duke is favored, always.”

She smiled in pleasure at that. Of course Simon would be favored. He was good, but he also had an appeal that most other people didn’t, certainly not Rouse.

After a few minutes more, there was movement down the corridor.

Her heart recognized his shadowy form before her eyes had the opportunity to focus in on him.

It fluttered and sped in her chest, slamming itself against her ribs.

Simon emerged and the crowd cheered, a deafening roar that rolled through the warehouse.

He was shirtless like his opponent, but he wore similar breeches and boots, though his were considerably less worn.

The hair on top of his head had been pulled back in a queue again, but a couple of days’ growth of beard covered the lower half of his face.

He was alone. Was that because Brody had decreed that it would be so, or was it because Mr. Dunn was acting as her nursemaid?

She yanked Mr. Dunn’s shoulder and pulled him down. “Go to him,” she yelled to be heard over the excitement.

He only gave a harsh shake of his head, but she could see the concern etched into his features.

The spectators began chanting his name. “Duke, Duke, Duke.”

Simon raised his arms in acknowledgment, and the entire place erupted in anticipation.

It was a palpable thing that filled the air, like the cloud of smoke that hovered over them.

Simon himself looked different than she had ever seen him.

He was fierce and vicious, his face a mask of brutal masculine beauty.

The fight at Montague Club had been a match between gentlemen.

This one was different. This was a brawl between seasoned fighters.

He bounced on the balls of his feet as he approached the ring, a look of grim determination on his face.

She hadn’t realized how very little Simon had been engaged with the other brawl until she saw him now.

He almost appeared a completely different person. Primal and unrefined.

The air had stilled in her lungs. She couldn’t look away from him.

This was who he had been. This was the man he had been when he’d run the streets of Whitechapel.

When he’d fought for Brody. When he’d killed those men.

When he’d watched Mary die. When he’d taken on the responsibility of raising Daisy.

He still was this man. He was also the Simon she knew from Bloomsbury. Somehow they both lived within him.

She loved both sides of him. She loved him.

Air fled her lungs in a whoosh. The blood in her head must have done the same because she stumbled. Mr. Dunn frowned down at her as she caught herself against him.

All this time she had been courting Simon.

All this time she had been falling in love with him.

All this time she had wanted to get caught.

She knew that now. She knew it in a way that made her feel whole and pure.

He was the future that she wanted. Every time she had sneaked out to see him, risking discovery, her reputation, and her betrothal, had been because pursuing Simon had been more important to her.

He’d been more important. He was worth more to her than the dowry from her useless father.

She would tell him so after the fight. She only hoped that he wanted her in the same way.