Epilogue
The dining room, Ambrosia’s Palace, at the King’s Book Club had been emptied of all the tables and chairs. Tommy and his students had constructed a boxing ring in the centre of the room, and people filled the space.
Rory shook out his hand. “How is your hand?” They’d been sitting outside the club under an awning signing autograph cards all morning for passersby, each one for a shilling donation to the various charities being supported by today’s events. Most of the people who wanted one of the little printed Christmas cards with space for the signatures of two Champions weren’t able to afford the entry fee for the fight, and many of them were old boxing fans, rather than King’s Book Club members. He must’ve signed hundreds of cards, reminiscing with so many people, nodding when they said—over and over—how good it was to see both of them together, how much they’d treasure this card, how much they missed their fights, how sorry they were to hear about Johnson.
“Fine. I spend my days writing.” Malcolm dipped his pen into his ink pot again, as if to show that he could keep doing this all day. Rory shook his head indulgently. Over the last few weeks, he’d enjoyed the way they competed with each other as much as they way they caring for each other. They had a little competition today for who could make the most money with their signatures, and the winner would get to determine how they spent the evening. It was silly as most people wanted both signatures, and even so, Rory couldn’t wait to see what Malcolm would ask of him.
“Come on. You need to introduce your fighters now.” Mr Mardin hustled them inside, through to the main dining and Rory hesitated at the doorway. Malcolm pressed his huge hand onto the small of Rory’s back and the touch gave him the confidence to face his demons.
“You’ve got this. We’ve practiced.” They’d spent several days at Tommy’s hotel, slowly easing Rory back into the fighter’s shed so he could deal with today without too many reminders. He swallowed, then looked up. The room was nothing like it had been when Davey Johnson had died; that was an outdoor arena with many drunken men shouting at the ring, and this was indoors. A stunning woman with a gold silk gown was walking around the ring holding a board with their chosen fighter’s names on it. This was a spectacle in a very different style than the worst day of Rory’s life. Even the crowd was different; a much more diverse crowd with people more interested in each other than the sport, and the room smelled like perfumes and champagne and holly, not dirt and beer and sweat. The room reminded him of Christmases at his castle growing up, a little bit of nostalgia wrapped up with the warmth of many bodies crushed indoors, and so completely different to his worst day ever that he knew he could participate.
“I can do this.” He leaned against Malcolm’s hand, still on his spine, and breathed in deeply.
“We can do this.” Malcolm placed his other hand on Rory’s shoulder and the crowd disappeared as he let Malcolm support him. “And once this is done, we can go back to my rooms...”
Rory shivered, in anticipation, then lifted his chin and followed Mr Mardin as he parted the crowd. He ducked under the ropes and stepped into the ring for the first time in years. He hadn’t quite managed this, at Tommy’s, but today with the crowd cheering his name, his old instincts kicked in and he stood up in the ring. He held Malcolm’s hand and raised it high; just like at the end of a match when he’d beaten his opponent. The crowd cheered, and it was exactly like the old days.
The woman holding the boards walked in a circle around them and the crowd exploded with noise. For her? Well, this was the King’s Book Club. Malcolm leaned in closer.
“I think they cheer for Gabby Doll and not us.”
“Yes.” The irony of it made Rory smile. Here they were, two unbeaten champions, and this crowd had only the vaguest clue about what this meant. They were cheering for their favourite performer instead.
“Come, let’s bow for them and then the games can begin.” Malcolm bowed and so did Rory, and they both climbed out of the ring—probably for the last time ever—and took their seats near Tommy. Rory had done the hardest part, and now he could relax. Malcolm took his hand again and leaned close to whisper with his lips brushing against Rory’s ear.
“No one will notice if you need to leave.”
Rory gulped. “Thank you. I don’t need to leave, but I would like to leave with you.”
“Patience, my love. Soon we will have all the time in the world together.”
Rory couldn’t wait. Tomorrow they would travel north to his castle and begin a life lived together. Nobbie and Malcolm had spent much time together in the last few weeks organising the new business, and Rory couldn’t believe his luck that he was going to spend his life with his greatest idol, his own champion, and someone so wonderful who also loved him back. His heart was impossibly full as he stared at the way Malcolm held his hand and all the pomp and circumstance in the room disappeared. He used his superior height to lean closer to Malcolm. “For you, I have all the patience and all the rush that you need.”
“Rory. Look at them cheering for us.”
Gabby Doll was dancing in the ring, pretending to box against herself, and the crowd was wild.
“For us, or for her?”
Malcolm grinned. “They cheer for her, and I cheer for you. You are the bravest man I know, my love. You conquered your worst today.”
Rory nodded. There wasn’t much he could say and now the rush of the moment was starting to wear off and all he wanted to do was rest his head on Malcolm’s broad shoulders. "I did it for you. Only because of you.”
“Ahh, my love, never underestimate a champion.” Whether Malcolm spoke of himself or Rory, it wasn’t clear, but he knew one thing. Malcolm was his champion. His protector. His love. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with him.
***
If you want to read Lawndry and Nobbie’s story, it’s A Lord’s Chance.
Watch out! Here comes trouble.
Lord Lawndry is obsessed with time-pieces and when he spots a rare one in a ball-room, he cannot resist discovering more. One thing leads to another and soon he’s on his knees outside a ballroom examining a rare watch.
Mr Gilbert had worked hard to get away from his origins and now he was a key financial advisor to the ton. The last thing he needed was a keen-eyed man to notice ... his watch.
The mystery of the watch and it’s maker threatens to push them together and to tear Mr Gilbert’s careful life apart. But does Lawndry care only about the watch, or could he care for Gilbert too?
***