Page 14

Stapleton Boxing Salon

Mayfair, London

W hy the devil am I here with ledgers as my only company?

It was a Saturday night, and in the days before Lewis had married or before they’d opened the boxing salon, he and his brothers would prowl through society events in the evenings with no particular intent in mind except to discover which of the ladies might grace their beds once the clock struck midnight.

But tonight, he was in the office of the salon, totaling columns of numbers in the candlelight with shadows creeping in at the edges of the golden illumination because he’d had too many distractions.

And he was only passable at the task of accounting, while Duncan was probably off doing wicked things to one of the many women he’d managed to charm this week.

Lucky bastard.

As the carriage style clock on the edge of the desk softly chimed the nine o’clock hour, Alexander paused with his pencil lead barely touching the paper.

One of the biggest distractions he’d wrestled with this week was Lydia Tetford.

Yesterday, after that kiss on the stairs outside the office, he honestly thought he might not survive the hour let alone a boxing lesson with her.

As it had turned out, with his brother there along with his wife, nothing else of a carnal nature happened, and that left him frustrated.

And all he could think about was how much he wanted her.

God, the whole thing is impossible.

After tossing the pencil onto the open ledger, he shoved his hands into his hair.

How had he had the unfortunate luck to find himself semi-involved with a woman who wanted no part in courtship and eventually marriage?

It didn’t matter that she challenged him on every level, nor did it matter that he craved spending time with her, for she walked a line between surrender and domination.

How damned arousing was that? But if he chased after her and eventually somehow convinced her to let him bed her, what was the point of that?

Yes, a tryst sounded appealing in the short term, but did he want that or was he truly hoping to chase something more?

Do shut up, Wexley. You haven’t the funding to offer a woman a decent future, so the point is quite moot.

There was that, of course. And someone of Lydia’s caliber would never fall for a man like him, especially when she knew of his precarious perch financially.

What if I’m not looking for love? If he couldn’t pursue her with marriage in mind, did he dare offer something else without risking offending the hell out of her?

The whole thing was a bothersome coil.

When the public door to the salon swung open, Alexander’s head came up.

He looked through the windows out onto the salon floor with a frown as a man stood in the middle of the space with confusion written on his face.

With a growl of annoyance, Alexander stood up from the desk, made his way through the office, and then entered the salon itself.

“May I help you?”

“Ah, yes.” The younger man came toward him with an envelope in his gloved hand. “I first went by The Albany looking for a Lord Wexley, but he wasn’t there, so the sender of the missive told me to try the Stapleton Boxing Salon.”

His frown deepened. “You are searching for me?”

“Are you Lord Wexley?”

“Yes.

“Then this is for you.” He offered an ivory envelope. “It was given to me with instructions to deliver it posthaste.”

Who the devil would have sent this? Knots of worry pulled in his gut as he accepted the envelope. “Do you wait for a reply?”

“I don’t. The woman who sent it said that hopefully you would come ahead of a message.”

Intriguing and somewhat concerning. “Ah. Thank you.” Alexander dropped a few coins into the man’s hand. “Enjoy the remainder of your night.” Once the courier left the salon, he ripped open the envelope.”

The missive was short and to the point, just like the writer—Lydia.

A,

Something untoward has happened. My father is attending a rout sponsored by a man high on the instep with the league of London physicians, and I currently don’t know where my brother is, for he isn’t attending to patients at his clinic, so I’m turning to you.

Not to put a fine point on it, I was attacked by Colin, my former fiancé.

He tried to win me back by mauling me while telling me that he didn’t accept my refusal to marry him.

He has been belligerent about that before, but only in letters.

Now it has escalated into physical badgering.

I managed to get away from him with a few well-timed kicks, but I’m frightened and suffering from reaction.

Both of which have never happened to me before.

Please come when convenient, but even if it is not, I would like you to call all the same, for I don’t want to be alone.

L

Alexander stared at the letter as first shock went through his system followed by hot anger.

What the devil? She’s been attacked?

Then his protective instincts kicked in.

I’m going to pummel the man into the ground.

He didn’t think, he just jumped into action.

She needed him, and he would be there for her.

Swiftly locking the door, he darted back into the office.

Barely slowing down to grab his hat and gloves from the desktop, he blew out the candle, went out the rear door, cursed out the key when he fumbled in the process of locking the mechanism.

Finally, he pelted down the narrow wooden stairs at a reckless pace.

With his pulse pounding in his ears, he ran down the pavement for a block or two until he found a cab for hire.

It was faster than summoning one of Lewis’ vehicles from his mews.

On the short ride over to Grosvenor Square—and thank God the driver knew where Dr. Tetford and his daughter resided, since it wasn’t something Alexander had discussed with her—his mind spun in a hundred different directions. What sort of man stalked a former fiancée and then went on to attack her?

Oh, he would pay, and dearly.

By the time he arrived at No. 16, he itched for a fight, if only to relieve the feelings of restlessness zipping through his veins. His rap on the door was immediately answered by a butler who showed signs of anxiety and worry.

“Please, follow me, Lord Wexley. Miss Tetford is in the rear parlor,” the older man said as he led Alexander along the corridor. “The servants are all very concerned for her; she arrived in an alarming state.”

“I can well imagine. When did she come home?”

“Nearly an hour ago.”

“Right.” He nodded. Shadows crept along the walls as he passed framed paintings depicting calming countrysides and seascapes. Obviously, the staff was preparing to put the household to sleep. “Has Miss Tetford ordered tea? If not, I’d like to do that before you retire for the night.”

“Oh, yes, my lord, perhaps ten minutes past. However, she has asked to be left alone except to receive you. I trust you will protect her until her father returns?”

“I will.” Alexander again nodded, for he was anxious to see her with his own eyes. “Perhaps leaving her be is best until I can get her calmed down. I would ask that you respect those wishes and if we have need, we will ring for you or a maid.”

“Of course, Lord Wexley. Here we are.”

“Thank you.” As soon as Alexander entered the parlor, the butler closed the door. Immediately, his gaze went to her. “Lydia?”

Dear God.

“Alexander.” She stood peering at a curio cabinet across the room but turned when he said her name.

Her hair looked a mess and bits of it had escaped the pins.

For whatever reason, her bonnet hung on her back; perhaps she was in such a state she hadn’t removed it even though she’d taken off the spencer, for it was on the floor in a heap.

One sleeve of her jonquil-colored dress was torn, and the skirting had been smudged with dirt.

She glanced at him with wild eyes, the green depths reflecting fear and confusion in the dim illumination of the one candle burning in a holder that had been set on a low table next to a tea service on a silver tray.

“I’m so glad you came. I didn’t want to be alone and had no idea who else to ask.” With that, she flew across the room and surprisingly threw herself into his arms.

With gladness, he wrapped them around her. “How do you fare?” he asked in a soft whisper as he held her. It seemed the right thing to do.

“I am quite out of sorts,” came her reply that sounded laden with tears.

That was something he hadn’t witnessed from her before.

When he tried to pull away, she wouldn’t let him and held onto him all the tighter.

He patted her back, encouraged her head onto his shoulder and hoped he’d indicated with those actions that he wouldn’t leave her.

“Tell me what happened. Where were you when Colin found you?”

“I had finished my rounds at Ian’s clinic—he’s my brother—and decided I wanted to do a bit of shopping after since his place is close to that district.”

He nodded. “That sounds like a lovely way to spend an hour.” While he spoke, he ran a hand up and down her spine in the hopes of soothing her.

“I thought so too, for there is a new fan I’d quite like to have, but before I could enter the shop, I was hailed, and when I turned to see who it was, I saw Colin. It was too late to bolt, and in my shock, I’m afraid I just froze.”

“Understandable.”

She kept her arms tucked between them, resting on his chest, and he rather enjoyed the warmth of her.

The scent of lavender teased his nose the longer he held her.

“I told him in no uncertain terms that I didn’t wish to see him or even talk to him, but he was having none of it.

When he reached out for my arm, I dodged him the first time and edged my way down the pavement, but he came after me.

” A few sniffles followed, yet she didn’t raise her head.

“He’s quite the bounder.”