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She came toward him while he donned the gloves. “I didn’t know you used those to fight.”

“I don’t. These padded mittens are for sparring matches, mostly with clients who wish to learn how to box. Occasionally a bout will call for them, but it’s bare-knuckle boxing for a reason.”

“To apply impact.”

“Yes.” As he nodded, he beckoned her closer with a mitten-covered hand. “Today, however, it’s to protect your knuckles, for you’ll punch your fists into my palms.” Then he winked. “A bit more difficult to do in skirting, I would imagine, but I’ll wager you can manage.”

Lydia snorted. “Tell me what to do.”

“Very well. Stand in front of me with your legs a shoulder’s length apart, knees slightly bent and raise your hands while curling them into fists.”

Quickly, she followed instructions. “Is there a particular way to hold the fist that you Stapleton boys swear by?”

“No, just rest your thumb over your fingers instead of keeping it to the side of your fist. Everything needs to stay tight.” When she did that, he nodded. “Boxers lead with their first two knuckles—the big ones—so aim with those knuckles and that is where your first will go.”

“Right.” This was very different than the defense she’d learned in the Japanese style. “Now what?”

The viscount raised his hands, palms toward her. “Punch my hands. Drill your fists into the middle, and use whatever force you wish. Nothing you do will cause me pain.”

“You seem in enough of that already; you’ve winced three times since I’ve arrived.” Then she moved and slammed her right fist into his left palm. The power that went through her body surprised her. “Oh!”

Wexley chuckled. “Ah, you didn’t know you could feel that way, hmm?”

“I did not.” When fighting through jujitsu, power came from using her brain and anticipating her opponent’s actions, then using her own strength against the attacker. This was quite different. Power came from using fists as weapons.

“Keep going.” He wriggled his mittens.

This time she drilled her left fist into his right palm. A thrill coupled with an odd rush of calm went through her. “By the way, you may refer to me as Lydia if you wish.”

“A pretty name.” The viscount grinned when she continued to rotate her fists into his palms. “I’m Alexander.”

Somehow the name fit the look. She paused in punching his hands. “I come from a long line of healers. Currently, I want to be a doctor, but I am unable to be formally called that even after passing my exams due to one terrible fact.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a woman.”

He stared at her, but she couldn’t read his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“That is the lot of a woman in this world, but that doesn’t mean I can’t continue to fight against it.” And she slammed a fist into his once more.

Dear heavens, this feels amazing!

“Yesterday you said I didn’t kiss as well as your fiancé. Are you engaged then?”

“Thankfully, not any longer.” How to explain to him without making herself look bad in the process? “It was a bit of a misunderstanding, really.”

His eyebrow rose again. “One that landed you a fiancé?”

Heat went into her cheeks. “I’ll give you some background and you can decide.

” As she talked, she continued to drive her fists into his palms. “My mother was a Scottish healer; she knew all the lore and history of countless trees, shrubs, herbs, flowers, roots, grasses. Throughout my life, she provided the people around her with teas, poultices, salves, and all manner of things that would heal.”

“That sounds helpful, and she must be where you got your hair,” he said with another wink.

“It was.” In that moment, she missed her mother, quite acutely. “Mama believed the gods gave us in the ground and sky what we need to heal. She was gifted but couldn’t perform surgeries or set bones. That vexed her, obviously, but she knew when she should ask for help.”

Punch, punch.

“When she married my father, who is an English doctor, they worked together for many years to heal all sorts of people. I admired the commitment and dedication of them both. How could I not want to become a doctor myself?”

“You have quite the legacy to live up to. I empathize with you on that. However, none of that explains the ex-fiancé.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Punch, punch.

“Out with it, Miss Tetford… er rather Lydia.”

“Right.” She paused in sparring, then blew out a breath. “A couple of years ago, my mother had some health issues. Pneumonia, and she died from complications with that.”

“Ah, so she wanted you engaged before she left this mortal coil, to have your future secured.”

“Yes.” She frowned as she nodded. “Even though she knew of my wishes to become a doctor instead of falling into the trap of domestic duties, which is how men control women.” When she shifted her gaze from his mitten-covered hands to his eyes, she caught her breath to find an intensity there she hadn’t seen before.

“My father presented three candidates. I was forced to have dinner with them, meet them at routs and other social events when all I wanted to do was study my textbooks and finish the clandestine course work Papa had set out for me.”

Punch.

“Only one man was compatible?”

“What can I say? I was na?ve, and he was the lesser of the evils.” Lydia shrugged. “Colin is a big Scotsman who has holdings near Edinburgh, which is opposite his blacksmith persona. He came into a bit of an inheritance and was considered a catch, so the match was made.”

“What happened to make him a former fiancé?”

“Oh, a number of things, I suppose, which is too bad, for he was a decent enough lover.” Why did she tell the viscount that?

It didn’t reflect well on her no matter how one looked at the story.

When his eyes rounded with surprise, heat went through her cheeks.

“I am not a skittish miss, you see, and I don’t back down from a challenge. ”

“So I am coming to see.”

“In any event, Colin has a bit of a temper. After all the charm and pretty words he fed me, he didn’t take kindly to a fiancée wanting to be a doctor instead of an adoring wife and the mother of all the brats he wanted to have. Said he refused to have a wife of higher social standing than he.”

Punch, punch!

“Clearly, you had no choice except to break the engagement.”

“Exactly. That is not the life I want for myself.”

“Being a wife and a mother isn’t for everyone.” He put the tip of one mitten beneath her chin and raised her head until their gazes connected. “There is no shame in that, Lydia.”

The sound of her name in his voice sent an odd shiver of need down her spine. “I know, but society frowns upon women having dreams.”

“Society can hang,” he said, with enough conviction in his tone that she suspected he was often on the other side of proper more times than not.

“My father is a professor at the University of Edinburgh, but he was asked to be a guest lecturer at Cambridge for the coming term. So, not long ago, we moved to London where he has a few private clients that I help with. He rented a townhouse, and my brother Ian works with injured veterans in Town.” She shrugged.

“I said goodbye to Colin at Christmastide last year, told him we weren’t compatible, that he could keep the dowry, and I would take the blame and whatever scandal followed.

” The heat of annoyance went through her chest. “He was livid, because he thought he’d have a well-heeled doctor for a father-in-law. ”

“As well as a way into English society, to say nothing of a pretty yet spirited wife who would bear him many sons?”

“Yes.” How could he possibly put together a story so close to the truth?

“I refuse to marry a man who wants to control every aspect of my life, right down to what I will wear or what I will do with my time. I might be a woman, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have dreams and goals for myself that run at cross purposes to everyone else’s. ”

Once more, the viscount raised his hands. “No need to convince me. I can hear the conviction in your voice, but it also sounds as if you are hanging onto deep emotions you need to let out.”

“Perhaps.” She punched one of his hands. “I, uh… I don’t have many friends to talk with or ones that I trust.” With a huff, she blew back an escaped curl that fell over her forehead. “Besides, I excel at being in control. I’ll be fine.”

Punch, punch.

Yet how long could she continue being in said control without feeling as if she were shattering from everything?

The engagement, the verbal abuse she’d taken from Colin, the scandal and bruising of her reputation from breaking the engagement, the disappointment from her father, not staying true to the promise to her mother, the thrill from studying and passing exams, the excitement gained from working on live patients at her father’s clinic?

Perhaps Alexander was more attuned to her mood or the slight vulnerability or perhaps she had given him an unconscious invitation in her eyes, but whatever the catalyst was, he caught her hands in his mitten-covered ones, gently maneuvered them to the small of her back and held them there, and finally, he claimed her lips with his.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened as she stared into his, but when he didn’t pull away, when he moved over her mouth with a determination and an intensity that gave her pause, a shuddering sigh escaped her, and she relaxed her body until he released her hands.

This kiss was much better than yesterday’s.

He was gentle but firm in his approach, and it sparked something deep inside her she’d thought she’d evicted long ago.

It gave her a taste of an inner strength she admired, as did the band of his arms around her, and for one fleeting second, she knew a powerful urge to surrender to this man, let him hold her and shoulder some of the burden she struggled beneath, if only to allow her to breathe.

All too soon, the kiss was over, and the viscount pulled away.

When he released her, he didn’t sully the embrace with an apology, which she appreciated.

In fact, he grinned, which prompted a grin from her.

“Well, I have clients waiting and shouldn’t linger here much longer, else Duncan will come bursting in.

” With his teeth, he tugged at the laces of the mittens until he was able to wrench them from his hands.

“Oh, of course. I need to get on with my day regardless.” Shaking the confusion and bemusement from her mind, Lydia retrieved her spencer and then shoved her arms into the sleeves. “Uh…”

“Yes?” There was a twinkle in his eyes she didn’t quite trust, but largely wanted to explore.

“I… I wouldn’t mind continuing boxing lessons. After all, what can one truly learn from a first one? Besides, it’s a good way of working off restless energy and helping to clear my thoughts.”

“Excellent.” Pleasure lined his face. “Come back to the salon whenever you’d like, or I can come to you if you’d rather not court scandal by coming here.

Just send a note ’round. However, if you wish to have lessons here, they’ll need to be before or after working hours, and you’ll need to enter by way of the discreet entrance. ”

She nodded. “Thank you. I shall let you know what I decide.” Then, still with her brain in a state of confusion, Lydia hurried across the office floor and out the door to the narrow landing beyond.

Only after she’d gained the alley did she remember that she’d left her bonnet on the desk in the office.