Chapter Seventeen
A meadow in Hertfordshire
Site of the illegal boxing match
I f Cecilia thought her nerves were strung too tight at the ball, that was nothing compared to the unease she felt now as she exited the closed carriage.
Since there had been no time to go home and retrieve the clothing she’d previously worn as a disguise, the countess had let her borrow a cloak, for that austere lady absolutely refused to leave the privacy of the vehicle. Cecilia had agreed with alacrity, for there was no way she would be confined or hidden away, not when Lewis’ future might hang in the balance.
With the hood up and the frog fastenings secured, the garment went all the way to the ground, for the countess was a few inches taller than her, but she didn’t care that the hem dragged through the grass. Her father walked on one side of her while Lord Frampton occupied her other side. As they approached the swelling crowd in the clearing, the urge to retch grew strong.
“There’s quite a crowd,” she murmured to her father, while keeping one eye on the ground to make certain she didn’t step into horse excrement or a hole.
He nodded. “Boxing is a lucrative sport.” With his gray greatcoat, beaver felt top hat, and black muffler, he was as nondescript as she in the black cloak with its hood in place.
“What is wrong with these men that they willfully pay hard-earned coin to watch other men beat each other, sometimes senseless? Why is this considered entertainment?”
It was her father who answered. “Since ancient times, people have thronged to the primal attraction of seeing one of their fellows beaten or killed. I have no idea why it inflames so many, or why that curiosity exists to see one of their own suffer.” He shrugged as they pushed their way through the crowds. “Humanity is and always will be perverse and bloodthirsty, especially when in concentrated groups. This leads them into trouble at times.”
Lord Frampton snorted. “Perhaps humans have never gotten over their cave-dweller instincts, and as long as it’s not them being pummeled, it’s acceptable.” He glanced at her. “Be glad we don’t live in the time of the gladiators; Lewis could be out there fighting lions or bears.”
“You are all horrible,” she hissed in a fierce whisper.
“Perhaps we are, but then, women still manage to love us anyway,” her father jested back at her, to the amusement of the earl’s brother. “And in truth, much of it happens because of the women we love.”
“Do shut up,” she bit off, not in the mood for frivolity when she was so worried about Lewis.
“I sometimes think you have more courage than any of us, Ceci,” he replied, as they fought against the crush in the attempt to move closer to a roped off area which served as the boxing ring.
“It also takes a fair amount of courage to decline such a nodcock invitation.” If her response was a touch more waspish than she’d intended, so be it. “I will be certain to give Lewis a dressing down about this when this ridiculous bout ends.”
Lord Frampton turned to her, temporarily halting her forward momentum. “He is doing this for you, Miss Dawson. You don’t need to agree with it, but men like Lewis? They will defend the people they love until there is nothing left to give. Whether he’s fighting for your honor, your protection, or to fill the family coffers, he will give it his all because he cares. At least show him the respect he deserves because there are precious few men who will do even that these days.”
The censure in his voice humbled her. Then his words sank into her brain. Lewis loves me? “You’re right.” She nodded. “Thank you for the reminder, but just know I’m frightened for him.”
The man nodded. “We all are. Now, let us discern his corner and go support him.”
Further conversation proved near impossible with the sheer volume of shouts and calls from the spectators. To say nothing of last-minute wagers being made. By and large, men made up the gathering, though there were a few ladies present. She had her doubts as to whether they were part of the ton . Yet she couldn’t help wondering if some women had chosen to come in disguise. Cecilia blocked most of the noise out, for her attention lay focused on the men inside the makeshift square. Lewis occupied one corner, along with Mr. Derrickson, as well as Lord Wexley, who stood talking to his brother, no doubt putting him in the proper mindset.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, and shamelessly continued to stare.
Lewis had stripped to the waist, of course, for too many clothes restricted movement. Clad only in a pair of black silk evening breeches, every inch of his torso was on display. From a flat abdomen with defined muscles that still retained bruises from his last bout, to the spattering of brown hair on his chest, to the impressive width of his shoulders, he was a fine specimen of male perfection, and she well remembered how that honed body slid against hers in heat and passion.
He did a quick series of stretches that showed him to every advantage while she continued to gawk. Had his legs always been so taut and powerful? His backside so tight? Of course they had, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to tug him away from what would surely be folly and have her wicked way with him. What had the man done to her that she would harbor such naughty thoughts? Dear God, I want to lick spilled champagne from that belly… Heat blazed in her cheeks, but she couldn’t look away.
“He is certainly most impressive.”
“Get hold of yourself, Miss Dawson,” Lord Frampton whispered into her ear. “Though Lewis is the most fortunate of men if he can arouse your admiration.” Amusement rang in his tone.
“Do shut up.” But her admonishment sounded a trifle breathless and ineffectual. When Lewis scanned the crowd and his gaze met hers, a thrill lanced down her spine. It echoed in her core as a throb of desperate need. He flashed a grin but the emotions in his eyes were too difficult to read. Butterflies erupted in her belly. “Oh, my goodness, I think I’m in a spot of bother.”
“You are just now realizing this?” Her father nudged her ribs with an elbow. “I’ll wager the rest of us have seen that in you already.”
There was nothing to say, for it was true. She’d fallen in love with the boxer, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it. Then her gaze jogged to Mr. Derrickson, and since he’d been staring at her anyway, when their gazes collided, another round of cold fear twisted down her spine, especially as he narrowed his eyes.
Just as surely as she realized she loved Lewis quite desperately, she knew Mr. Derrickson wouldn’t show compassion toward him during the fight. In fact, he would keep going until the earl was nearly dead.
A short, rotund man stepped into the roped off area. As he beckoned to both fighters, the roar of the crowd hushed. “Today’s match is between Lewis Stapleton, the Earl of Lethbridge, and London’s local favorite champion, Mr. Thomas Derrickson. No doubt this match will prove exciting with two such headline makers.” The man beamed at the audience, which cheered and strained forward. “May the best man win.” He then rang a brass handbell and slowly backed away from the combatants.
Another man she assumed was a doctor stood off to one side, outside the ring, with two men who would serve as referees.
Lewis and Mr. Derrickson circled each other, their bare feet making no sound on the grassy clearing. Cecilia moved closer to the rope as she tried to keep her gaze on the earl. Then, Lewis made the first move with a brilliant punch to the man’s left cheek. The bigger man dodged and darted away, but quickly spun and tagged him with a right hook that snapped Lewis head backward.
“Oh, no!” She held onto Lord Frampton’s arm as tightly as he would allow.
“It’s early in the round. Don’t worry.” The soothing tones did nothing to relieve her anxiety.
“How can I bear to watch the rest of the fight when I fear for this round?”
Her father patted her shoulder. “Hope for the best, my girl.”
Over and over the boxers parried and punched, danced away, then came back with impressive form. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in her ears, and each time Lewis received a hit, she gasped, but she couldn’t help but admire the flow of his body and the power he held. Yes, she’d watched him fight before, but there was something different about this time, perhaps because she looked at him through a veil of newly realized feelings.
Mr. Derrickson charged Lewis with a shoulder into his chest, and as he attempted to regain his balance, the bigger man treated him to a solid punch to the chin that had Lewis landing hard on his back, gasping for breath.
“No!” Cecilia strained forward, but Lord Frampton grabbed onto her arm. “We have to help.” Her heartbeat accelerated, racing through a horribly tight chest. “I have to go to him.”
“We don’t and we won’t.” A frown pulled down the corners of his lips. “This is a public boxing match where women are generally not welcome. Have some decorum. The last thing we want is for Lewis to feel embarrassed or prove distracted.”
“Of course.” She shook off the man’s hold and pushed her way to the ropes as Lewis staggered to his corner. Lord Wexley sat with one knee outthrust for Lewis to perch upon.
“Damn it, Lewis, you must concentrate, or you’ll lose in the next round.” His brother lifted a ladle of water to the earl’s lips in the absence of a water boy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying.” He pushed away the ladle after having a sip. “He is strong and has rage on his side.”
“Then you need to summon yours,” Lord Wexley said with a frown. “You usually put down an opponent with efficiency. We cannot afford another loss.”
Dear heavens, this isn’t the way to motivate him! Cecilia couldn’t stand it any longer. “Lewis.” When he glanced at her, pleasure lit his hazel eyes. “Please be careful. Focus and don’t think about everything that is weighing you down.”
“Fisticuffs aren’t dangerous.” He grinned. “I can manage.”
She snorted in an effort to cover her concern. “Show me what you’re made of and stop dawdling. I want you in one piece after this bout.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Such a managing baggage you’ve become.” He winked, and heat invaded her cheeks.
The handbell rang again, signaling the start of the second round, so Lewis left his corner. Both Stapleton brothers stared at her.
“I’m concerned for the earl’s safety.”
Lord Wexley grinned as he looked her up and down. “You are quite bold Miss Dawson, and I applaud that, but there is scandal in the offing since you’ve come out here to watch a bout without a disguise.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Yes, well, when your brother goes haring off to do something like the proper nodcock he is, someone with sense must come along to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”
Her father chuckled. “Don’t get her dander up, Lord Frampton. She can prove rather tenacious.”
Surprised laughter came from the viscount. “Damn. Does Lewis know the depth of your regard?”
Before she could answer, the handbell rang once more. Cecilia diverted her attention to the ring and frowned when she spied Mr. Derrickson on his back with Lewis grinning at the roaring crowd.
“Well, drat. You’ve made me miss his triumph.” When she glanced at the earl, he winced as he rubbed his left shoulder.
“My apologies.” Amusement threaded through Lord Wexley’s rejoinder, but he exchanged a speaking glance with his brother. “To be fair, it is only the end of round two.”
She released a sound of frustration. “Oh, you Stapleton boys are so aggravating at times!”
All three men chuckled at her outburst.
Why are men so annoying?
Round three began as soon as Mr. Derrickson gained his feet. Apparently neither fighter wished for a break.
The footwork, as well as darting and dodging, brought Mr. Derrickson closer to her location at the rope.
“I’ll put down the fecking earl soon enough, and that means you’ll belong to me by default.”
She blew out a breath. “I am not an object to be owned, but regardless, Lethbridge will prevail.”
“Not unless I end him permanently.”
As fear played icy fingers down her spine, she glued her attention to the fight. Though Mr. Derrickson came back strong, Lewis held his ground. As each punch was exchanged, the roar of the crowd intensified. People strained forward around the roped off area. Some called out encouragement to their preferred boxer.
“Damn it, Lewis, it’s step, step, upper cut and then a roundhouse kick,” Lord Wexley yelled from the corner. “Just like Papa taught!”
Cecilia gawked when Lewis responded with a crude hand gesture, much to the amusement of the nearest spectators. How fascinating men were at times. Because of that, he took a punch to his stomach, and as she pressed her knuckles to her mouth, went so far as to bite down on one, he returned the favor, jabbing Mr. Derrickson in a shoulder and then delivering a blow that had the other man spinning about.
Then one of the things she’d most feared happened.
With a roar, Mr. Derrickson charged at the earl with fists flying. He delivered a one-two punch into Lewis’ jaw and his left shoulder. Then, he either suspected that the earl was favoring that shoulder or he knew of the previous injury, for he delivered another punch to that area, and when that didn’t fell the earl, he rammed his shoulder into Lewis’.
Though she heard the earl’s cry of pain, she felt that pain deep in her soul. There was no way to further explain it, but her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, no.” She strained against the rope to better see as Lewis fell to the ground. “Why does his arm hang at such an unnatural angle?”
Lord Wexley huffed. “It’s been dislocated.”
The youngest brother growled. “Why the hell did the referees not flag that? Clearly, it was an illegal charge.”
The rotund judge began a countdown.
“Lewis, get up!” she yelled to the earl.
Finally, oh finally, he pushed himself to his feet. The crowd cheered.
He shook his head, but the pain on his face nearly broke her heart. As he once more circled his opponent, Cecilia clutched at Lord Frampton’s arm. To be fair, he did the same to her as they both watched, frozen as Lewis delivered a few punches with his good fist.
“He’s far too off balance without the use of his left arm,” Lord Frampton whispered.
Lord Wexley nodded. “I agree, but he’ll need to adapt, else he’ll be put down.”
“Come on, Lewis, just dig deep. It’s almost over,” she said beneath her breath as her gaze remained fixed on the earl.
Streaks of blood decorated his chest. Sweat poured down the sides of his face and neck. Pain lay etched through his expression, but he kept his feet, delivering punch after punch to Mr. Derrickson, and the last one made the greatest impression.
The bigger man staggered. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. Blood oozed from his nose, which Lewis had broken. Sweat made his chest and arms shiny. Clearly winded and heaving for breath, it was obvious he was nearly knackered.
And that made him reckless.
“Go down, Lethbridge,” Mr. Derrickson snarled, as he circled the earl.
“You first, you bastard.”
“She’s mine.”
“Only if I’m dead.”
“That’s my goal.” Then the big man swung wide, stumbling as if he were drunk. Perhaps the repeated blows to his head had addled him.
Lewis easily avoided the punch, and his footwork was still impressive even though his left arm hung at an awkward and no doubt painful angle. With a cry of rage, he responded with an uppercut to the jaw that landed Mr. Derrickson onto his back.
The crowd roared.
Mr. Derrickson lay on the grass, his chest heaving as the judge and referee hurried over to his side. While some spectators yelled at him to get up, the big man lifted an arm and let it flop to the grass.
Seconds went by as everyone waited.
Cecilia could hardly breathe.
Then, the rotund little man finally rang the handbell once more. “The winner of this bout is the Earl of Lethbridge!”
Roars went through the crowd as Lewis was declared the victor.
*
Lewis tried to regulate his breathing as he peered down at the fallen form of Mr. Derrickson. Pain screamed through his left arm and shoulder. If he wasn’t careful, he’d cast up his accounts right there in the ring, but all his concentration went into keeping his feet, and as the crowd yelled its approval for his victory, he scanned the ropes for a glimpse of Cecilia.
Oh, dear God.
She had come under the rope, quickly followed by Duncan, but she didn’t stop there, and what was more, she was still clad in her ballgown covered by a cloak. When he assumed she would fly to his side, she didn’t. Instead, with a cry of what he guessed was rage, she streamed past him to throw herself upon the still-down Mr. Derrickson. Without a care for her beautiful dress, she straddled the fallen man and then proceeded to beat him with her fists.
“What the hell is happening?” he asked of both Alex and Duncan as they reached his location. “Did you know she would do this?”
“Of course not,” Duncan said as he frowned at Cecilia. “Perhaps she’s gone insane.”
“No, listen,” Alex urged them both as they continued to watch her. “She’s berating him.”
The crowd gasped and strained. Of course gossip would fly and their names would no doubt be in the papers by evening tomorrow. However, there was nothing for it.
“Bloody hell, but she’s a marvel.” In significant pain and with his shoulder throbbing, he held his arm steady with his right hand, then left his brothers. “Cecilia, enough.” When he reached her, he tried to pull her off the bigger man.
She, of course, ignored him in favor of landing her fists into Mr. Derrickson’s cheeks and chin. “Do not think to molest me any longer because I am not for you.” Punch, smack! “When a woman doesn’t want your attention and tells you, she means it.”
“Cecilia, he is not worth the continued scandal.” Even now, so many men leered as her skirting crept up her legs to her knees.
She blew out a breath while the hood of her cloak fell backward, giving everyone present a view of her face. “If you ever attempt to block my path when I’m at my father’s office, I will pitch you into the harbor.” Then she followed the threat by driving a knee into Mr. Derrickson’s groin before allowing Lewis to pull her into a standing position.
“You have made your point, sweeting,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “He won’t soon forget this night.” Even now, the other man groaned and remained on the ground.
Blinking, she gazed up at him as if seeing him for the first time since she’d entered the boxing ring. “Oh, Lewis!” Tears fell copiously to her cheeks, and even though he was sweaty and bloody, she flung herself into his arms—well, arm, as it were—and hugged him close. “I’m so glad you weren’t killed.”
“Of course I wasn’t. It was merely a boxing match.” Despite the intense pain, he drew her out of the ring and beneath the ropes as his brothers accompanied them. “But I won, didn’t I?”
“Barely.” She shook her head. “We were all concerned for you. My father came, as well as your mother.”
“What?” With a glance around, he realized the captain stood nearby, looking on with amused indulgence while his brothers both nodded. “Mama is here?” He couldn’t wrap his brain around the concept. “She despises boxing.”
“She does,” Duncan said with a chuckle. “But she stayed back with the coach. We should probably tell her that you haven’t been dispatched to your death.”
“Yes, of course.” He gritted his teeth against the waves of pain moving through his body from all fronts. “There is something I must do first, and it can’t wait.” Awkwardly, and quite painfully, he dropped to his good knee while his other one screamed at him to rest. “Cecilia, darling, humor me,” he said in a halting voice as he took her hand in his good one.
“Please don’t do this here,” she asked in a whisper. “It isn’t necessary, and you need to see the doctor.”
“I don’t wish to waste any more time, for I realized during that fight exactly what I wanted for my future.” He gazed up at her, met her cornflower blue eyes and felt the same calm he always did when in her company. “When you walked into my boxing salon nearly two weeks ago, I knew you would change my life, but I didn’t know just how much.”
“Oh, I…” Her words trailed off as a faint blush stained her cheeks.
“Please, sweeting, let me do this.” Ignoring the pain and fighting off the darkness hovering at the edges of his vision, Lewis continued. “Over the course of our relationship, we have grown close. You have shown me a different way to see things, have quietly led me to greater heights with your determination and resolve. I admire the hell out of you, Lia, and I can’t imagine going forward into the remainder of my life without you with me every step of the way.”
“How lovely. You believed in me when no other man wished to help me defend myself. That immediately makes you different from them.” The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow. “What are you trying to ask of me?”
“Just this.” With a glance at his brothers, who both gave nods of encouragement, he sighed. “Please marry me, Cecilia. Make me the happiest of men by wedding me and being my countess. Together, we have so much potential.”
“I…” The blush in her cheeks deepened, and they’d accumulated a rather large crowd around them. “Do you think I am strong enough to withstand everything the beau monde might throw at me as a countess? As a woman who has no connections or a title?”
“Sweeting, there isn’t a woman stronger, and I am constantly amazed by you.”
“But…” She pressed her trembling lips together. “I have been led astray by men before, have been horribly treated because of that.”
“You have, and I would chase down every one of them and beat them bloody for you. However, I would rather use that time to convince you how much I love you. Yes, it sounds ridiculous and fanciful for such a quick time frame, but then I’m convinced that love doesn’t play by any set of rules.”
A tiny giggle escaped her, and she wiped at the tears on her cheeks with her free hand. “No, it doesn’t, but love doesn’t lie, and it is just one thing that sets you apart from everyone else.”
“If it makes a difference, there is a parure of jewelry I have in mind for you. When I don’t look and feel like death, I shall give it to you.”
She laughed. “Oh Lewis, I need nothing except you.”
Happiness bubbled up in his tight chest. “If you accept my hand, you’ll be a countess so you’ll receive much more than that. And you deserve every bit of it. Let me pamper you, Lia. Let me have the right to protect you, to keep you from every bad thing in life, to love you without restriction, because I’m quite mad for you already.”
“As I have said many times before. You are a good man, Lewis, so is it any wonder why I love you? Why I couldn’t help but fall for you?” She shook her head. “But know this. I don’t want you to fight my battles for me. I want to fight them with you, with us supporting each other, because we are equals.”
Both of his brothers looked on with expressions of expectation.
Lewis nodded. “Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
“Yes. Oh, Lewis, yes, I will marry you, and your mother will need to square with that, because I simply won’t accept more disrespect. From anyone.”
The crowd around them cheered.
Immediately, Duncan went into the mass, working the men and taking wagers on when the wedding would take place. He told them they could also bet at the clubs.
“God, he has no scruples, does he?” Lewis whispered, as he scrambled painfully to his feet.
Alex snorted. “Don’t blame him. His skills lie in finding investors and alternative forms of funding because he is charming and charismatic.” He slapped a hand to Lewis’ good shoulder. “I’m glad for you. Cecilia is a force to reckon with.”
“That she is.” He didn’t care much about scandal, for they were already steeped neck-deep into gossip. What was one more snippet? As Alex followed Duncan through the crowd, Lewis wrapped his good arm around Cecilia. He claimed her lips to cat calls and whoops of approval. Then he rested his forehead against hers. “If you don’t mind, escort me over to the doctor so he can pop my shoulder back into place, and if I pass out, have Alex bring over a bucket of water to pour over my head. I believe my strength is nearly done.”
“After this, I want you in bed for at least a couple of weeks. Your body needs to rest.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “No arguments. Let me be the strong one for a few moments. I have had loads of practice.”
Oddly enough, he submitted meekly to her dominance in that moment. It was rather wonderful knowing someone cared enough to take control for a time. While she slipped an arm about his waist and guided him across the grass to where the doctor waited, he couldn’t help his grin. Never had he thought that opening a boxing salon would have led him to a wife and a future, but then, fate was fickle indeed.
And he couldn’t be more thrilled with the results.