The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

Chapter 10

10

A fter the carriage started away from the manor, Charity cleared her throat and focused her attention upon the woman sitting on the opposite bench. Now that they were alone with their conversation muffled by the trotting horses and the creaks and squeaks of the coach, this was the most opportune time to confront Ester for gossiping. “First of all, I want to thank you for accompanying me once again. Of all the ladies at the manor, you are the only one whom I thought I might be able trust to keep mum.”

“Why thought ?” the lass asked, cocking her head to one side.

Must she spell it out? Confrontations had never been Charity’s strong suit, but if she was to be taken seriously as lady of the manor, she absolutely must not allow such issues to pass without a word. “It has come to my attention that Lady Modesty overheard you telling Miss Hatch that I was engaging in private boxing lessons with Mr. Mansfield.”

Ester clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh dear.”

A- hah , thank heavens the lass hadn’t tried to deny it. Charity affected a stern expression. “Is that all you have to say?”

“I’ll admit I’m the last person who ought to be blathering about a scandal, but I would be remiss if I did not raise a word of caution, my lady.” Ester held up a gloved finger. “What you are doing alone in the arbor with the town’s butcher, regardless of your intentions, is scandalous. If anyone outside of our little group of wayward souls were to find out, I shudder to think of the catastrophe it would bring upon you and your family. And you have the welfare of two younger sisters to consider.”

Of course, Charity knew the risks, which was exactly why she’d met with Mr. Mansfield in private, but that did nothing to excuse Ester’s betrayal. “Verra well, since you are so concerned for my reputation, why did you spread gossip about me to Miss Hatch?”

Ester pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips. “I merely told her that I thought you might be taking boxing lessons, because she pulled me aside and said that she saw you heading out the back of the barn and toward the arbor immediately prior to Mr. Mansfield turning his cart down the groundskeeper’s path. She said it was all but obvious the pair of you were having a rendezvous.” Ester released a huffing sigh. “Believe me, I warned the chit not to tell a soul because you had a very sound reason for needing to learn how to defend yourself.”

Charity clenched her fists atop her midriff. She’d been so careful, yet it seemed the entire household knew about her meetings. She was already too close to being ruined. “Did Miss Hatch ask why?”

“I said it was not incumbent upon me to divulge such information.”

“I see. Do you believe that you prevented her from spreading further gossip?”

“I hope I did. Goodness, my lady, you gave me a place to stay at a time when I had nowhere else to turn. I’d never utter a word to hint at inappropriate behavior on your part.”

“Then I thank you for your discretion.”

“No thanks are needed, though I will caution you yet again. I believe is unwise to continue with your lessons. Mr. Mansfield is a handsome, unmarried man and?—”

“And a completely unsuitable candidate as a suitor for the sister of a duke.”

“Your words, but yes. I do not have to tell you that is how society sees such things.”

Charity pounded her fist on the velvet-covered bench. “Blast society and all that goes with it. I wish I were never born into the MacGalloway family.”

“Truly? From what I’ve seen, it is quite a nice, loving, perhaps even functional family. Do you have any idea how rare such a thing is among the nobility?”

“I grew up in the north of Scotland where there were few opportunities to interact with other noble families. I have no idea how usual or unusual my kin may be. Please enlighten me.”

“Well, take mine, for instance. When she was alive, my mother drank quite heavily. I suppose my father did as well, and truth be told, whenever they were in the same room, they fought like moray eels. After she died of consumption, Papa wore mourning for all of one day—said if the Prince of Wales could pass it off, then so could he.”

“And then he abandoned you as well?”

Ester clasped her hands and nodded stiffly.

“How old were you when your mother passed?”

“Eleven.”

“Same age as Modesty when she lost her father.”

“Poor dear.”

Charity had already laid bare her secrets. It was time to hear Ester’s story as well. “But you’re a woman grown now. I believe it is time you told me what happened. Why did your da spurn you?”

“Because of the same thing we’ve been talking about since we left the manor— scandal .”

Charity had thought as much, but she needed the full story. “At the racetrack?”

“Yes. My affair was not too unlike yours—at least at first. It began innocently enough. At the time I thought myself in love with my riding instructor and…well…now I am a fallen woman. When Papa found out, he banished me.”

“For loving someone…” Charity whispered more to herself than to Ester. But she needed to know it all. “What happened to your beau? Did he not come after you?”

“Papa booted him out as well. Later when I found him in a tavern, he said I had been nothing to him but an amusement.”

Clutching her hands over her heart, Charity gaped. Harry would never be so unfeeling. “The despicable cad. How dare he take advantage of you in such a way?”

“Which is exactly why I’m cautioning you now. You are the eldest daughter of a dukedom. Your family will never allow you to marry a butcher, even if?—”

“Even if he wished to marry me?”

“Even then, my lady.”

Charity pulled aside the curtain and stared out the window at the passing countryside for a time. Why was life so difficult? Why was it taboo for young ladies to have friendships with ordinary men? As the thought passed through the tangled web of emotions boiling inside her, she knew what she and Harry had been doing was a far cry from mere friendship.

She didn’t want it to end, yet by the sinking sensation in her stomach, she knew it must—the whole charade must. She’d been given leave to play at being the lady of the manor only because her brother had thought it would give her sound experience for when it came time to run her own household. Moreover, Mama had made it eminently clear that her post at Huntly was temporary. Worse, considering the fact that Modesty was now aware of Charity’s boxing lessons, she needed to end it.

But how?

At the moment, she had no time to come up with a solution because the carriage rolled to a stop.

“We’ve arrived, my lady,” said Tearlach, opening the door and offering his hand.

“And you will be joining us today.”

He smoothed his white-gloved hands down the lapels of his livery. “Do you not think my presence will draw unwanted attention this time?”

Charity fluffed her black skirts. “No more than two ladies dressed in mourning I suppose.”

“Now we’re two ladies dressed in mourning accompanied by a footman,” said Ester, following. “Such a disguise!”

“Wheesht.”

True, people gave them curious glances after they paid and Tearlach led them inside, but no more so than they’d done at the Brixham warehouse, and now they’d traveled clear around the bay to the wee village of Torquay. No one for miles would have a clue who Charity was, regardless of how she was dressed or who accompanied her.

Except while Tearlach was leading them through the throng of men placing wagers, Dr. Miller stepped into their path. “Lady Charity, what a surprise to see you here.”

Charity nearly dropped her reticule along with her jaw. “Good day, Doctor. We’ve come to lend our support to Brixham’s butcher.”

A man with a journal and a stubby pencil pushed beside them. “A lady did you say?”

“Indeed.” The doctor gestured to Charity with an upturned palm. “Might I introduce Lady Charity MacGalloway, sister of the Duke of Dunscaby.” He gestured to the inquisitive man. “Kevin Hopkins of the Torquay Times.”

Suddenly Charity felt as if her stays were suffocatingly tight. Fancy meeting the doctor who had treated Modesty’s ankle in Torquay. Why the devil wasn’t he at some ailing person’s bedside? And how did he manage to become acquainted with the local newspaper man?

Mr. Hopkins bowed. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, my lady, and quite a surprise, might I add?”

She gave a hasty curtsy. “Mr. Mansfield has been so helpful, supplying meat to the manor.” She opted not to tell the newsman about Harry’s carpentry skills or his heroism. “We couldna sit idle whilst he faced someone as notorious as Alanzo the Terrible.”

“Manor?” the nosy newspaper man asked.

Dr. Miller rocked back on his heels. “Her Ladyship has opened Huntly Manor to?—”

“Excuse me, Doctor, but the reason for our venture is no one’s concern,” Charity said, tugging on Ester’s arm. “Good day.”

“I think what you’re doing for the ladies is commendable,” said Tearlach, offering his hand and helping the two ladies to climb onto the benches.

“Aye, but it is not common knowledge. Lady Northampton made one comment about Huntly Manor opening its doors to ladies who had lost their means of support, and three boarders arrived before I did. Imagine if a newspaper got ahold of such information, we’d have to set up rows of tents on the front lawn.”

“I think you handled the situation well,” said Ester, as together they sat.

“Meeting up with the doctor was unexpected, I’ll say.” Charity flicked open her fan and cooled her face, while stealing a glimpse at Mr. Hopkins. Thank heavens he’d moved on and was talking among a group of men. “My, it is over warm in here.”

And it only grew warmer after the contenders entered the ring.

Alanzo the Terrible was not a handsome man. Not by half. His face was scarred and pock-marked, his nose twisted like a gnarled tree branch. His brows were thick, slashing over black eyes, giving him a villainous mien. He spat and sneered at the audience as he strutted around the circumference of the ring.

When Mr. Mansfield entered, he did not look their way. Neither did he pay Mr. Terrible much notice, while the crowd booed him and hollered shouts of praise for the fearsome-looking miscreant he was about to face. The Butcher just surged toward the ring, his eyes forward, his expression hard.

Charity gripped her fists into tight balls. “I dunna have a good feeling about this.”

The umpire chalked a line through the center of the square, then in a loud, booming voice told each contender that he was supposed to stay on his side whenever there was a break, and it was each principal’s Second’s responsibility to keep the fighter behind the chalked line.

In no time the fight began. Mr. Terrible immediately darted across the floor and kicked Harry between the legs.

The Brixham butcher doubled over, protecting his unmentionables.

“Foul!” shouted nearly everyone in the venue accompanied by a number of colorful expletives.

“Oh dear,” said Ester, turning her head and shielding her eyes.

But as the horrible man pummeled Harry’s face, Charity surged to her feet. “Break, curse it all! Mr. Terrible has violated the rules!”

The umpire shouted something imperceptible, his gestures indicating that each man return to his side.

“He’s a cheater!” Tearlach hollered.

Charity gave the footman a pat on the shoulder. “Next time yell a wee bit louder for the both of us, if you please.”

Tearlach not only increased his volume, he climbed onto the seat and waved his hat through the air. “No wonder ye win, ye bleedin’ scourge. Ye fight like a mangy dog, ye maggot!”

With a slash of the umpire’s hand the fight was on again, but this time Alanzo didn’t attempt to kick—he just swung and swung, while Harry did the same until the men’s faces and bodies were both red with blood. As they tired, they staggered about the stage throwing strikes at each other, neither one doing much to parry the jabs away.

Charity thought the fight might end in a draw until Harry threw an uppercut and sent the cur to his knees.

“Stay down,” Charity whispered behind her fists, while Harry trudged to his side of the ring, the counting of seconds being shouted by the umpire.

Alanzo swiped the blood away from his forehead, lumbered to his feet, and pushed the umpire away.

A dissonant round of boos erupted from the crowd.

“Give him the boot!” Tearlach yelled, throwing his thumb at the door.

But the umpire merely backed away while the contenders collided with another bout. Fists flew. Thuds and grunts resounded above the frenetic crowd. Charity winced with every strike that hit Harry’s body.

By the ninth round, the men grew so tired, their blows were nowhere near as powerful as they were when they started. The pair of them dragged themselves about the ring like a pair of drunken sailors. Harry threw a left. Alanzo ducked, coming up with an uppercut to the chin, hard enough to make The Butcher’s head snap back.

Harry stumbled, flinging his arms wide, his head lolling. But Alanzo didn’t stop. He lunged in throwing a left, then a right with such force, he sent The Butcher toppling over backward.

“No!” Charity shouted, hopping to her feet.

Harry didn’t move as the umpire began his count.

Tearlach cupped his hands around his mouth. “Go back to your side, ye wastrel!”

As the words left the footman’s mouth, Charity realized what the crooked boxer was about to do.

“Go to your Second!” shouted Ester, just as Mr. Terrible’s face reddened with rage and he kicked Mr. Mansfield in the ribs.

Charity’s ears burned as she hefted her skirts and in three leaps arrived on the floor. “Out of my way!” she shouted, shoving her way forward until she reached the ropes.

“You despicable scourge! How dare you kick a man when he’s down?” she ranted, scowling at Mr. Terrible as she stepped through the ropes and dashed to Harry’s side.

Three men were pulling the cheating boxer to his side of the ring, while the umpire grew red in the face, rattling off the rules. Limited as they were, during her lessons, Harry had explained that Broughton’s Rules were very clear that no principal was to strike a fallen man. His Second should have taken Alanzo the Terrible to his side of the square.

Charity paid them no mind as she knelt beside Harry and grasped his hand. “My word, that man is a monster.”

Harry grinned, blood seeping through the cracks in his teeth. “He forfeited by delivering that kick.”

“Aye? He ought to be taken to the closest prison and locked away for the rest of his days.”

Harry grunted as he pushed himself up. “You should not be seen here, my lady.”

Ester reached through the ropes and tugged Charity by the arm. “We must haste away. You’re making a spectacle, my lady.”

She gave the lass a nod, and then turned to Harry. “How will you make it home? Surely you are not well enough to ride a horse.”

Harry threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his Second. “Never mind that. Ricky will collect our winnings and tote me to Brixham. I’ll be set to rights after a few tots of rum and a good sleep.”

“Come, m’lady,” said Tearlach, who held the ropes and offered his hand. “Doctor Miller is here to tend him.”

Reluctantly, Charity stood. “I’ll have Cook send a food basket.”

As her companions pulled her away, Harry nodded, though with his face bloodied and one eye nearly swollen shut, Charity was sure he winked. He even grinned in a grimacing, pained sort of way.