Page 31 of On the Ropes of Scandal (With Love in Their Corner #3)
Later that night
Near Ashford, Surrey
England
“G ood God, look at the crowd,” Duncan whispered to his brothers as he swept a glance about the wildflower field where the bout would be held.
Lewis would serve as his corner man—which meant he wasn’t allowed in the ring—but he would act as support and give advice or discuss strategy during the bout.
Alexander would try to get the crowd to throw their support behind Duncan as well as serve as his knee man, which essentially meant he’d offer his knee between rounds for a rest. Dear Phoebe had volunteered to take care of the water bucket and ladle, offering it up when needed.
“It’s bigger than when I fought two weeks ago. ”
Lewis snorted. His gaze was on the gathering crowd as well.
“Once word got out that you would fight again after your sound defeat two weeks ago, they wanted to gawk and perhaps wager against you.” He shrugged.
“Pay them no mind. This is your chance to have a comeback as well as a victory. Let them wonder and put a hole in their coffers.”
“Thank you.” Illumination from lanterns hung from the ropes that designated the boxing ring gave off cheerful pools of golden light.
“I’m glad the two of you are here, though.
Already, it has a much different feel from last time.
” Countless other lanterns had been strung up in the many trees throughout the area, as well as tall poles erected and secured about the roped-off area so the men in the crowd would be able to watch the fight in the dark.
It gave the area a surreal quality, as if he were on a stage instead of a ring.
Lewis clapped a hand to his shoulder. “We’ve all learned lessons over the past two weeks, I think. Stapletons stick together, no matter what. Papa would have wanted it that way.”
“We never know what life will show us to be thankful for,” Duncan murmured, as he wandered to the corner that had been set aside for him.
Behind the wooden post that had been driven into the ground, Phoebe stood, clad in a long black cloak.
It wouldn’t hide the fact she was a woman, in a ballgown, no less, but it would protect her identity and reputation.
“Thank you, also, for wishing to watch the fight.”
“Where else would I be?” Her eyes glittered in the lantern light.
“The last time you did this in Surrey, you wandered about Cranleigh with no memories. I can’t risk some other woman snapping you up if it happens again.
” Though she smiled and had said that in jest, the note of worry in her voice went straight to his heart.
“That is not going to come to pass. You have my word.” Slowly, he removed his tailcoat and then his waistcoat as both brothers joined him in the corner.
He handed the garments to Alexander. “No matter what occurs in this ring, do not come under the ropes, else I’ll be disqualified, and it will become yet another scandal. Understand?” he asked of his wife.
“Of course.” She nodded, but her overbright gaze remained glued to him as he shed his cuff, collar, and cravat. Those items went into Alexander’s keeping as well. “Be careful.”
“I will.” Finally, Duncan took off his lawn shirt. Once he’d given it to his brother, he began the task of taking off his shoes and then the hosiery. “Did you remember to bring the satchel of clothing I had in the coach?” It was something he’d brought with him when they’d departed for the rout.
“Yes.” She retrieved it from the grass and gave it over to him. “Why did you need it?”
“Well, I’m damn well not going to enter a bout in satin breeches.
They are far too expensive to destroy with such exercise, and will restrict movement.
” So saying, he took off the garment and handed it to her.
He didn’t care much about standing in the nude; there was no place for modesty at a bare-knuckle boxing match.
Yet Phoebe’s gaze travelled down the length of his naked body, and his member twitched with interest. She stepped against the ropes and lowered her voice while his brothers turned politely away. “I’ll never tire of that view, but I suppose you’ll return to me tonight battered and bloodied, hmm?”
“No doubt I will.” After yanking a pair of tan-colored breeches from the satchel, Duncan quickly donned them. “But I will come home to you.”
“I know.” She nodded her thanks when Alexander gave her the pile of Duncan’s clothing. “Your mother is waiting in the coach. She couldn’t bear to witness her youngest son in the ring.”
“Her constitution isn’t as strong as yours, but I’m glad she’s in the immediate area for support.
” His chest tightened. “Mama always says I resemble Papa the most. I’d rather not provide more trauma for her, since Papa died after a fight.
” The crowd cheered because his opponent had entered the ring, along with the men serving as judges and a doctor.
Once more, his gaze went to Phoebe, who had put his folded clothing on top of the satchel, and tucked everything nice and tidy into the corner behind where she stood. “I will make you proud.”
Her smile was a tad watery. “I am already proud of you, Frampton. Just stay alive.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“It’s almost time,” Lewis said in a low voice as he clapped a hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “Remember what Papa taught us. Footwork will win the day.”
Alexander swore under his breath. “But fast fists will ensure it,” he said with a grin. “Bring the man down any way you can. That I learned from Lydia’s guidance.”
“I now wished I’d learned jujitsu like you did.” Duncan flashed a grin at the people he loved most in the world. “Thank you all for coming with me tonight. It means the world.”
Then a shrill whistle blast pierced the air. It was time.
“Good luck,” Phoebe whispered with a fleeting touch of her gloved fingers on his arm.
Heated tingles danced up to his elbow. Damn, it was rather lovely having a wife, someone who truly cared about him. “I’ll need it.” Yet his confidence in his own skill surged to the forefront. Everything his father had taught him rested front and center in his mind.
With a little shove from Lewis, and an encouraging nod from Alexander, Duncan slowly made his way to the center of the boxing ring.
The crowd roared again. He narrowed his eyes on the mountain of a man who was his opponent—Mr. John Burlington.
Built like a barge and standing perhaps a few inches over six feet, he featured a barrel chest, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. Dark brown hair was long and caught back with a leather tied.
A thick mat of matching hair covered his wide chest. Anticipation glittered in his hooded eyes beneath shaggy eyebrows, and there was no doubt in Duncan’s mind this man wished to evict him from this mortal coil.
“Just give up now, Lord Frampton,” his opponent growled as he slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. “I ain’t afraid of your lineage.”
“You should be. Stapletons are difficult to kill.”
“Gentlemen, keep it civil. We don’t want a bloodbath before we even start.” A squat, rotund man stood in the middle of the boxing square and held up a hand. He had the look of a fat bird in evening clothing. “I’m your caller tonight.”
Both Duncan and Burlington nodded.
“Limber up. We’ll begin as soon as our host introduces you.”
When the noise from the crowd died down somewhat, another man stepped into the middle of the boxing ring. The tall man, of indeterminate years and build, held up a hand for silence.
“Tonight’s match is between one of the favorites of the bare-knuckle boxing world, Mr. Duncan Stapleton, or you may know him as Lord Frampton, and one of the best boxing promoters I swear I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
A roar erupted from the men assembled as spectators.
“And his rival, the man who’s beaten countless boxers throughout the southern counties of England, Mr. John Burlington.” Another cheer rose from the crowd. Clearly the man had supporters.
With a frown, Duncan stretched his arms and neck.
It didn’t matter which one of them had more supporters.
He would do what he was capable of and make his wife proud, show her that he was more than capable of earning a living and taking care of her.
When he risked a glance back at his corner, his gaze met Phoebe’s.
She stared back with rounded eyes and her lips set in a hard line in a pale face surrounded by the dark hood of her cloak that blended with the night, but she gave him a nod of encouragement.
Both of his brothers stood with their arms crossed at their chests with stoic expressions, but they were there, and he swore he felt that love.
When he turned his attention back to the two men in the ring, another man had entered the ring to stand next to the caller and the announcer.
Oddly, they resembled the number10, with one being tall and the other squat.
The third back, landing somewhere in the middle of the two, held up a hand for silence.
“I am Mr. Jansen, your judge for the bout this morning.” The man had the look of a London banker, somber in a dark suit with dark hair and hardly a personality.
“The bout will continue until one of these fighters pins his opponent for ten seconds, or one of them manages to knock the other out cold.”
A roar from the crowd followed. Spectators of bare-knuckle fighting were a bloodthirsty bunch, and the more battering or gore presented, the greater the wagering.
Another man stood at the far side of the ring, outside the ropes, with a black bag in hand. No doubt he was the doctor in the event things took on a horrible turn.
Duncan’s opponent again smacked a fist into his other hand. “I heard about your last bout, Frampton. I’ll put you down just like your last rival.” The accent of a southern fisherman clung to the man’s voice.
Hot annoyance surged through his chest. “That was a one-off experience, Burlington. You’ll have so such luck.” He flexed his hands, cracked the knuckles then performed a series of stretches to warm his muscles. It was already quite nippy in the air, and he needed his body loose and limber.
The bigger man snorted. “The wins in my column are greater than yours. There’s talk the Stapleton brothers aren’t as good as they brag these days.”
“We’ll see. A boxer is only as good as the fight he’s currently in.
” Sad but true. Again, he glanced over to his corner where Phoebe was quietly talking with Alexander.
His heart squeezed to know she was there, and she believed in him.
When she looked over his brother’s shoulder at him and smiled, confidence surged through his veins.
“The bout will start in moment,” the judge said.
Another roar from the crowd followed.
When the three men left the boxing ring, Duncan assumed his first position, fists at the ready, body taut and balanced, just like his father had taught him.
“Good luck, Burlington.” After all, no matter who was declared the victor at the end of the bout, he would still be proud of himself merely because he had Phoebe.
The prize purse would be welcome, of course, but loving her?
That was the real prize he’d found on the heels of that bout two weeks ago.
A whistle blast split the air. The judge shouted, “Remember, rounds will continue until one man is put on the ground and unable to stand after ten seconds. Go!”
The crowd roared in anticipation.