With Love in Their Corner (The Boxers of Brook Street #1)

Chapter Seven

June 23, 1817

Worchester, Surrey

L ewis frowned as he surveyed the large clearing of grass where the bout would take place. Since bare-knuckle boxing, especially for profit, was illegal within the bounds of London proper, most bouts took place in surrounding areas. The sites were often farm fields, or clearings—even better—for sometimes thousands of spectators would assemble. Since it had only taken a couple of hours to travel from London to the area where the bout was being held, there had been little to no fatigue from sitting in the coach, and they’d taken the closed one in the event that it rained during their comings or goings. The only thing that had made the trip palatable was the fact Cecilia had been among their numbers. Throughout the trip, conversation was lively, and he’d found himself chuckling more than once, and much of that was due to her. Between jokes and scandalous stories his brothers regaled her with, his brothers kept up a steady stream of conversation with her in which he’d discovered she adored the roasted sugared nuts found at Covent Gardens in the evening, that she felt responsible for guiding her brother through life in lieu of their dead mother, and that she envied her father in that he’d travelled on a ship on the seas.

And he was even more fascinated with her than he’d been before.

Now, as Duncan came abreast of him, Lewis shook himself from his thoughts, for they would do him no good right before the bout.

“Looks to be a decent crowd,” he said to his brother as a couple of men—no doubt sponsors of the event—were walking a space of the clearing and driving posts into the ground. It would be where they wrapped ropes about them to cordon off the area and designate it as a ring of sorts.

“Indeed,” Duncan said with a nod as he glanced about. “Perhaps a few hundred. Not bad, and if the wagering is fierce, all the better.” He frowned at Lewis. “How do you feel?”

“Well enough.” He refused to let on to the fact that he currently suffered from nerves and apprehension. What if his shoulder or knee decided to give out during this bout? And he certainly didn’t wish to make a fool of himself with Cecilia watching. “It is nothing I can’t muddle through. Do you know who my opponent will be today?”

His brother shrugged. “I haven’t been told. The boxer slated for the event backed out at the last moment due to having his clock cleaned at a tavern two nights prior, but I’ll talk with the organizer and find out who the replacement is as well as start working the crowd.”

“Thank you.” Once Duncan left him, he sought out Alexander, who’d promised to keep Cecilia within his sight, at least until the bout began, for Alex was his knee man. When he caught his eye, Lewis moved toward them both. “Lia, if you find all of this too overwhelming, no one would fault you for wishing to remain in the coach.”

She shook her head. “I am made of sterner stuff, Your Lordship. A bit of blood or violence won’t shock me, especially after what I have already survived,” she added in a low voice. “Besides, I’m curious. Once I watch a boxing match, I will perhaps understand better how to move my own body.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded, for he couldn’t let his concern for her safety circumvent his concentration on the upcoming bout. “It should begin soon, so stay close and don’t do anything to call attention to who you are beneath the disguise.” Though he could immediately identify her as a woman, he hoped no one else looked too closely. Bringing home the prize purse was far too important than acting the nodcock about a woman.

With a glance at Alexander, who shrugged, Cecilia moved toward Lewis and then laid a hand briefly on his arm. Reaction shot up that limb to the elbow. “Be careful. Your brother has told me of your injuries and that any sort of hard hit to either of those areas could bring you down.” The concern in the blue pools of her eyes arrested him. “I am looking forward to seeing what you’re made of. I know you’ll prove impressive.”

For whatever reason, those words had his confidence soaring. “Thank you. I’ll do my level best.” Then, with a nod, he moved off to join Duncan where he talked with an official. It wouldn’t be long now.

*

The energy from the gathered crowd fed into Lewis’ nerves, and that made him anxious to get on with the fight. Would Cecilia find his form pleasing, his footwork impressive, his punches thrilling?

Why the devil do I care?

He damn well knew why, but he’d be dead before he admitted he was beginning to fall beneath the woman’s spell, especially when all she’d been was her authentic self who only wished to learn how to fight so she could take back her life. But he’d promised his brother that he would escort her out into society.

To what purpose?

That remained to be seen.

“Woolgathering will see you trounced out there,” Alexander chided, and the sound of his voice brought Lewis back to the present. “You should be thinking about the fight.” A hint of censure rang in his tone. “From what I’ve been given to understand, Oliver Ulstead won’t go down easily.”

“Agreed.”

“Gossip says he’s a viscount’s son.”

“Well, we all have to belong to someone, don’t we?” Lewis shook his head to clear his thoughts. Cecilia had no place in his mind when there were other more important things in his immediate future, like winning this prize purse. He stripped to the waist and handed his clothes to his brother, who would serve as his knee man during the bout. Basically, that meant Alex would offer him his knee like a footstool to provide a modicum of rest between rounds. “I’m focused.”

“Glad to hear it.” Alexander looked at him with narrowed eyes. “How many times have you been with Miss Dawson as you were yesterday?” he asked in a whisper, for Cecilia waited near one of the corner posts, looking for all the world like a woman in boy’s clothing.

God, please keep her safe.

“That time only,” he said a little too quickly. “Plus, one other kiss,” he admitted without glancing her way. Those bloody kisses had changed everything, yet he hadn’t given her anything in return. What sort of a man refused to talk about himself when she’d willingly shared with him so much about her life and past?

“Why do I not believe you?” Alex questioned with speculation in his eyes. “And why the devil choose her? You’re an earl for Christ’s sake. You could have your pick of any woman in the beau monde .”

Why indeed. “She’s different.” With Lia, there were no games, no flirting. A man knew where he stood with her, and she wasn’t afraid to put him in his place. Of course, she’d never said she wished for a courtship… “I suppose it’s because she needs someone.”

Suddenly, he wanted to be her champion, to show her that not all men were scoundrels and bounders. And, dash it all, he wished to become her teacher in other things beyond the sparring field.

If she’d let him regardless of what his brothers or mother would think.

Then a shrill whistle blast pierced the air and scattered his wayward thoughts.

“Damn. He hadn’t been aware his opponent or the judge had entered the ring.

A short, stout man stood in the middle of the boxing square and held up a hand. “We’re about to begin.” When the noise from the crowd died down somewhat, he continued, “Today’s match is between crowd favorite Lewis Stapleton, or you may know him as the Earl of Lethbridge.” A roar erupted from the men assembled as spectators. “And his rival, the man who’s trounced more than his fair share of boxers, Mr. Oliver Ulstead.” Another cheer rose from the crowd.

When Lewis happened to glance over his shoulder at Cecilia, he frowned for all the blood had drained from her face and her gaze was fixed upon the man at the opposite side of the boxing ring, standing in his own corner.

“Lia, is something amiss?”

“Yes.” She nodded as she focused on his face. “That man was my fiancé. I thought… I assumed he’d gone away from England…”

The man who had beaten her on a regular basis. The viscount’s son. Well, damn.

There was no time to ponder what this meant, but he wanted to clean the man’s clock. “I…”

“Put your head in the game, man,” Alexander hissed in a whisper as he shoved at Lewis’ shoulder.

“Right.” He briefly touched Cecilia’s hand before scanning the crowd of men who shouted their approval and support. “I’ll get you the justice you should have had from him years ago,” he promised her in a low voice.

A wash of tears filled her eyes, but she nodded as Duncan came over to stand at her side. “I’ll stay close to Lord Frampton.” Clearly, Duncan had told her what his title was, since it had been his right at birth to make one for himself as an earl’s son.

“He’ll look after you, but I have to go.” After exchanging looks with Alex, Lewis moved toward the judge in the center of the roped off ring.

Mr. Ulstead also loped toward the judge—a barrel-chested man with full eyebrows and a tall, proud bearing. His mop of black hair was tousled and curled slightly, but the man resembled a bear and would no doubt wield the same power of that animal.

“This fight will go quickly, Lethbridge,” Ulstead growled. He flashed a grin of premature victory. “Gossip holds that you’re aging and weak.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lewis flexed his hands, then lifted his arms above his head and performed a few stretches. As he stared into the face of the man who’d love nothing more than to beat him into the sweet-smelling meadow grass, he knew a profound urge to bust up his opponent’s handsome face for what he’d done to Lia.

And for all the ills she probably hadn’t told him about. That needed to change. Regardless of whether he wanted to pursue a courtship with her, he owed her his full attention and a sharing of the man he truly was behind the guise of the earl or the boxing instructor. Renewed energy flowed through Lewis’ veins, and he assumed his first position, fists at the ready, body taut and balanced. “May the best man win, Ulstead.”

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 three seconds. Go!”

Lewis and his opponent circled each other, prowled through the meadow grass of the eight-foot roped off area. Two judges waited in opposite corners. How best to bring the brute down? It was a difficult order, but he’d find a way. Anticipation rode his spine, prompting him into movement. He threw the first punch. It connected solidly with Ulstead’s cheek without much effect.

“Is that the best you’ve got, Lethbridge?” The other man grinned as he struck out a powerful fist.

Lewis danced away, much to the crowd’s roar of approval. “I’m just getting started.” He swung a fist, but the bigger man easily dodged the punch.

“Time to go down.” Ulstead struck with a fast uppercut to Lewis’ chin that jarred his teeth together.

Pain exploded through his face, but he held his ground and returned the volley. Then they were into the thick of the first round as blows rained and fists pummeled, landing on solid flesh in rhythmic intervals. One of his punches had Ulstead staggering backward, but the man didn’t fall. Neither did Lewis when retaliation occurred.

Minutes ticked by that seemed like hours. His left shoulder protested, and his breath grew labored before the round was finally called.

Grateful for the brief reprieve, Lewis trudged to his corner, as did Ulstead. “I might have underestimated Ulstead’s tenacity.” Of course, he had the stamina of an abuser. He perched upon Alexander’s knee while Cecilia watched from outside the ring with wide eyes.

“Stop whining.” Duncan handed Lewis a ladle full of cool water from an oaken bucket. “You’re trailing him; you need to move your feet faster.”

“Indeed.” Lewis wiped sweat from his brow with a rag. After taking a deep sip from the ladle, he handed it back to his brother.

“It’s nothing you haven’t faced before.” Alexander rubbed down the muscles in Lewis’ shoulders. His left one ached liked the devil. “Keep going and wear him down. Your footwork never fails.”

“I trust my skill.” Yet if he gave himself permission, he’d take down the other man and pummel him into the dirt for what he did to Cecilia.

Another whistle blast announced the start of round two, and Lewis returned to the middle of the ring to face off with his opponent once more.

“I’ve had about enough of you, Lethbridge,” Ulstead growled out. “Step aside and let us younger boxers have our reign.”

“I’d rather die,” he tossed back.

“I can arrange that.”

“Like hell.” Movement and a flash of bright color at one side of the ring caught his eye. Daring to peek, Lewis gasped even as his pulse kicked up. Cecilia, shrouded in her black cloak and male clothing, had moved along the ropes for a better view, concern etched on her face. How could anyone not see that she was a woman?

A hard uppercut to his jaw had him staggering back several steps. The crowd roared and as one entity surged forward. Quite fickle in their support, it seemed, but then, people liked to see blood. Pain exploded through his head, but he kept his feet. This was why having a woman in his life was an exceedingly bad idea. Too much distraction, especially her. Putting Lia firmly from his mind, Lewis lunged toward his opponent with a grunt. He landed quick jabs to Ulstead’s gut and cheek.

The man reeled and retreated before gathering himself and charging at Lewis to exchange blows.

Again and again, he drilled his fists into the bigger man’s body, but the boxer wouldn’t fall.

Ulstead got off a few good punches of his own, and the determination Lewis had always been known for kept him on his feet, though winded and hurting.

“I’m going to put you down for what you did to Cecilia,” Lewis taunted, even though he wanted to cry out from the pain in his shoulder.

Surprise flickered in the other man’s eyes. “How the hell do you know her?”

“You don’t deserve to know that.” And he delivered a swift right hook to the other man’s cheek that sent the other man spinning about. Though he staggered, he didn’t fall.

Then the round was once again called without a clear victor.

Lewis stumbled back to his corner, dropping heavily onto Alexander’s bent knee, panting. He rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand. “I went too far,” he admitted in a whisper.

“What the devil ails you?” Alexander hissed, as Duncan plied him with water. “You’re all over the place out there.”

“I know, and I goaded him verbally to catch him off guard.”

“Well, stop that and put him down.”

“I’m trying, but he’s more powerful.” Lewis stood, glancing at Cecilia, who stood behind his corner. When their gazes connected, she offered a tremulous smile. Heated sensation went through him, followed by a blossom of hope that lifted his flagging spirits, but when her notice went back to his opponent and fear jumped into her eyes, he vowed to make certain Ulstead knew he wasn’t welcome in London.

“Damn it, Lewis, get your head out of your arse,” Alexander hissed, and gave him a push, which refocused his wandering thoughts.

“Right.”

The judge blew his whistle again. The next round was imminent.

“It’s dangerous to have your concentration split.” Alexander slapped his shoulder. The sting of pain brought Lewis back to the task at hand. “Go.” He shoved him, and it propelled him to the center of the ring for round three.

Ulstead came out swinging, literally. Lewis was caught up in a whirlwind of blows that left him reeling. When one of the bigger man’s fists drilled into his left shoulder, pain swamped him, had him doubled up with pain. Another blow gave him a bloody nose and the sickening crunch of cartilage. There was no hint of gentlemanly fighting here. The bout had become rough and tumble street fighting.

And he welcomed it.

Lewis took a deep breath and retaliated using a quick double uppercut, one with each fist despite the pain in his shoulder, and then followed those with a blow to the man’s temple.

But Ulstead didn’t go down.

From seemingly a long distance, Cecilia’s cry of encouragement sank into his brain, discerned somehow over the roar and cheers from the crowd. His heart squeezed to know she continued to support him even when he wasn’t making his best showing. Alexander yelled for him to keep moving.

Footwork as well as strategic punches would win the day; they always did. He could do this. Above all, he couldn’t let the distraction of Cecilia take him out. Straightening his spine, he blew out a breath and once more faced his opponent. Stupidly, he wanted to appear a hero in Cecilia’s eyes to elevate his status, make her think he was more than what he was.

Perhaps to restore his faith in his own existence. I have to be more than merely an earl with a nearly empty title.

“Give up already, Lethbridge. I’m twice the boxer you are.” Ulstead snarled and snapped his teeth as he circled. “And you haven’t aged well.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Every movement he made brought spikes of pain to different places in his body, but he entered the fray once more.

“Stubborn arse.” Ulstead came on like the brute he was. He had strength on his side. “Your time as London’s darling is at an end. You aren’t the fighter your father was.”

“I never tried to be.” The words dented his confidence. Lewis defended the best he could, but it was as if he were fighting a hurricane and being battered from all sides. Though he rallied a few times, punch after punch was exchanged, and Ulstead barely slowed his assault.

As the match wore on, round followed round, and Lewis endurance wavered. His stamina waned. Blood dripped down his face and onto his chest. He couldn’t remember how many wounds he’d sustained. Pain screamed through his left shoulder; his right knee felt far too weak. When would it give out? Sweat streaked into his eyes, stinging, and blurring his vision. His muscles burned from overuse. Countless bouts before this, he’d bested his opponent in under three rounds. Never had he worked so hard for a victory. His body ached, but he defended himself, for it was all he could do.

For Cecilia.

Too deep on the defensive, he couldn’t regain his strength. Damn, I’m in trouble. “Enough,” he called and hoped his voice held.

“Pathetic, Lethbridge,” Ulstead said with a snarl. “Your father would be disappointed.” Then the round-ending blow came without the bigger man acknowledging his concession like a gentleman. “You’re done, and don’t you ever attempt to threaten me again. Miss Dawson was too weak a woman for me.” His opponent kicked Lewis’ bad knee, and as pain went through his leg, he slammed a ham-fist into Lewis’ stomach that lifted him off his feet and sent him flying over the grass.

He landed hard on his back with a knee on fire, and bent while gasping for air. Unfortunately, he had no strength to regain his footing even though his mind screamed at him to stand.

“Shit.” As if he were disconnected from himself, he laid there while life continued around him. The judge came near with the doctor, and he counted down from ten while Lewis didn’t move in the sweet meadow grasses, wheezing and mentally cataloging his injuries. Sometimes, a man had to take the loss, but he didn’t have to like it.

At least I’m not dead.

The crowd roared as Ulstead was declared the winner. At the start, Lewis had been the favorite, unless one counted the betting books at various clubs. Now, he’d fallen from grace, and what a bitter tumble it was. To the man who’d allegedly took out his frustrations on a woman.

I’m sorry, Papa.

“Lewis!” The wild concern in Cecilia’s cry stabbed through his chest.

Lewis sat up in time to catch the other man’s bloody grin, and he nodded. “Good show, Ulstead. You bested me soundly.” The fight had been a much-needed challenge and changed the way he thought of himself. Perhaps he wasn’t the prize fighter he’d thought, and because he’d lost the prize purse, he was even less of a catch than even his mother would admit.

What the devil do I do now?

As a few of the more rabid fans of the sport swarmed Ulstead’s corner, Lewis struggled to his feet and returned to his. Once there, he accepted a towel from Alexander. He hated to face a potential lecture from his brother, but there was nothing for it. He’d been an embarrassment out there.

“That wasn’t your best performance,” Alexander murmured, but instead of the disappointment in the other man’s eyes, there was speculation and a bit of worry.

“I know.” Over Alexander’s shoulder, his gaze connected with Cecilia’s. Shock reflected on her face. Her blue eyes were wide and round and held way too many questions, but nowhere could he discern disgust. That only gave him a modicum of relief.

“You were distracted.”

“I know .” Lewis wiped at the blood and sweat on his face and head. “My shoulder is done for.” To say nothing about his knee. Then he drew the towel over his chest. “It won’t happen again.”

Alex snorted. “You’ll be dead with another time in the ring.”

“You had him routed at one point,” Duncan added, “but like Alex, I think you had other things on your mind.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged, and when his muscles screamed a protest, he groaned.

“I don’t know what to say, but at this rate, you’ll go bankrupt soon.” Alex tossed Lewis his clothing. “Get dressed. No sense lingering about. Your fans have deserted you.”

“I don’t need your censure right now.” After another pass of the rag over his face, Lewis threw it into the empty water bucket with the others.

“No, but we will talk soon.” Instead of chastising him further, Alexander asked, “Do you require medical assistance?”

“Nothing is broken, save my nose and my pride.” He yanked on his garments. “I’m in no mood for company.”

“Too bad, because we are all riding back to Town together. You can sulk in the coach.” Alexander flicked his gaze around the immediate area. “I’ll leave you alone for a few moments before we leave. Come, Duncan.”

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Subtle, brother.”

“Perhaps you’ll have more skill at courtship than at boxing.” Alexander glanced at Duncan, who shrugged and retrieved the bucket. “If you’re so tied up in knots now, I can’t imagine what you’ll be like given another few weeks.”

“It’s not… I’m not… There isn’t…” He stopped talking, for his brothers weren’t listening. They exited the ring at the opposite side.

Eventually, the crowd thinned. Ulstead held court with a small knot of supporters at the far end of the meadow. Bastards who withheld their appreciation when things went bad. With a sigh and a tight chest, Lewis ducked under the rope and approached Cecilia. What was there to say? He’d failed.

Spectacularly.

“You were wonderful out there,” Cecilia said in a soft voice. Her gaze roved over his chest, and she bit her lower lip slightly as she stared. Awareness tingled through him. “I had no idea watching a boxing match would be so heart-pounding, so exciting, so real.”

Bloody, bloody hell.

“It is, uh, raw. I’ll give you that.” He yanked a linen shirt over his head, shoved his arms into the sleeves, and then smoothed the garment over his torso. Damn, but his shoulder ached. The admiration sparkling in her eyes nearly saw him undone. What he wouldn’t give to kiss her right now, to take refuge in those eyes. “Thank you, but I lost.”

“That doesn’t matter, because you survived. Isn’t that the most important lesson?”

“Not when I was depending on that prize purse.”

She pressed her lips together and peered around him. “While I’d hoped you would have beat that man , seeing you pound your fists into him was quite satisfying.” Slight hero worship reflected in her eyes. “I rather enjoyed both watching you and hoping he might come away with a broken bone or two.”

“Ah.” Unable to help himself, Lewis chuckled, and then groaned because it hurt too much. “I’ve no doubt given him a few bruised ribs. Sorry I couldn’t do better.”

“What you did was quite enough.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I am proud of you.”

As his chest tightened, Lewis fought off the emotion rising in his throat. “Thank you. That means so much.” The words were choked and said in a low voice. “I’m glad you were here.” If there weren’t so damned many people about, he might have taken her into his arms and kissed her. “I like having my brothers with me, but each time I glimpsed you, my spirits rose.” Not enough to win, apparently.

A blush stained her cheeks. “Do stop, Lethbridge. Of course I would support you. Why wouldn’t I come out for my boxing instructor?”

Was that all he wanted to be to her? It required more thought, and much more talking to her… about himself. “Come. We should head back to London so I can lick my wounds in private.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed about, but I would caution you to rest the arm and perhaps put a salve on the knee.”

It was rather nice to have someone fuss over him. “As long as I’m not stiff and confined to my bed tomorrow, instead of a lesson tomorrow, I will take you driving. As per my promise to Alexander.” After today, after seeing the man who’d beat her take absolutely no responsibility for what he’d done, Lewis wanted the right to protect her from everyone else.

A genuine smile was his reward, and it was worth every blow he’d received today. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Oddly, so would he.