Chapter Four
W hat do you think of your clothing?” Lady Charlotte asked. “I’ve yet to go out dressed as a man, but I think I will try it soon.”
Gathered with the other women in the Wick cousins’ personal quarters, Georgina tugged on her thigh-length waistcoat as she glanced down at her breeches and stockings. “I feel lighter.” Experimentally, she kicked out one leg and then the other. “Freer. It would be much easier to dig in this outfit than in skirts.”
“I would avoid mud while wearing those,” Hannah said. “They’re silk.”
“An outfit made of a more practical fabric,” Georgina clarified as she took a few experimental steps. “My movement is definitely less encumbered without dragging around all those layers.”
“Don’t you feel gloriously unfettered?” Lady Calliope asked. “I used to borrow my brothers’ clothing all the time as a girl. I absolutely love the garments that Miss Barrie makes.”
Georgina nodded. “But how do I look? Are you certain I am not too curvy? We wrapped my chest with strips of linen, but is that enough? The bust is not the only area where a woman’s form differs from a man’s.”
“That is the genius of Miss Barrie’s designs,” Lady Calliope said. “She has added strategic padding throughout to make the buttocks less noticeably curvy and the legs thicker.”
Georgina had noticed lumps when she’d pulled on the breeches, but since she’d never worn male clothing before, she hadn’t known it was unusual. Analyzing her thighs and calves for appearance rather than mobility, Georgina could see now that they looked more muscular. She tried to crane her neck over her shoulder to see her behind but to no avail.
“We really should invest in a mirror if we are to continue this additional service,” Lady Charlotte said. “I have enough remaining inheritance from my great-aunt to purchase one.”
Georgina found this much more interesting than the current shape of her bottom. “It is true, then? You are a co-owner of the Black Sheep?”
“Yes.” Lady Charlotte nodded. “It is unconventional, but I’ve found I rather enjoy not fitting Society’s expectations anymore.”
Oh, how Georgina desired to control her own purse strings! Although she had not previously considered investing in an enterprise, the idea held appeal if it could afford her more financial independence. She didn’t give a fig for her reputation, but she definitely cared about earning more coin to fuel her digging.
For the second time in less than a fortnight, she also wished she’d paid more attention to the identities of the nobility. Although she vaguely recalled the glittering Lady Charlotte and Lady Calliope from her debutante days, she could not remember their ranks or their families. She also still did not know the identity of Alexander—the man who was about to shepherd her around London. She had discovered that he was Lady Charlotte’s brother, but that only confirmed he was part of the upper echelons of Society.
Alexander’s association with Percy made her leery—as did his continued ability to wreak havoc on her senses. Discovering him in the Black Sheep had shocked her, and not just because she’d suspected him of revealing her secrets. Her skin felt tighter in his presence and a bit prickly—if prickly could be associated with the pleasant (if disconcerting) sensation. His all-too-frequent smiles unsettled her as did his eagerness to assist. Men typically ignored her—if they even noticed her at all. But Alexander’s gaze had a way of lingering, and she did not know what to make of it. Clearly, her body didn’t, either, with the way her heart occasionally tripped and her flesh continued to both heat and turn into goose-skin at the oddest moments.
Alexander’s friends appeared to trust him implicitly. But although they had faith in the fellow, Georgina didn’t. If she wanted to search London for Percy, though, it seemed like she would need to stay by the grinning noble’s side.
“Does Alex—” Georgina was just about to ask if Alexander possessed a title when a polite but firm knock sounded at the door to the Wicks’ quarters.
“I am sorry to disturb you, but is Miss Harrington ready? The bout starts in less than two hours, and I want to arrive early so we can mingle. Spirits are always high before a fight, and the men are less in their cups. It’s the best time to glean coherent information.” Alexander’s smooth voice flowed straight through the door and right into Georgina. Again. Why did her body resonate so readily with his baritone? Such a thing had never happened other than with him.
“We were finishing up,” Lady Calliope called. “We just need to affix her wig. You can come in if you wish.”
Alexander entered the room with a wide, friendly smile on his classically handsome face. To Georgina’s surprise, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward in response.
His gaze instantly focused on her, and Georgina shifted. She didn’t think that Alexander was paying the most attention to her simply because she wore men’s clothing. After all, he held her in the same regard when she’d been dressed in the plain clothes of a maid.
“Do I pass muster?” she asked.
“Now that is a thorny question.” Alexander winked. “I will say that Miss Barrie is an excellent seamstress with an eye for transforming the wearer. You are remarkable in whatever clothes you don, Miss Harrington.”
Georgina blinked. She did not recall any man ever speaking to her in such a teasing tone, especially accompanied by a wink, of all things. Gentlemen of Alexander’s caliber had sneered at her during her come-out. They did not send her twinkling, flirtatious looks.
“If your tongue got any sweeter, cousin, it would literally drip honey,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes as she approached with a wig.
Cousin. Alexander and Lady Charlotte’s origins just became more interesting. According to Percy, Hannah and Sophia were the daughters of pirates. How did a noble family become linked with theirs?
But now was not the time to ask. Instead, Georgina eyed the powdered clump slowly descending upon her pinned-up coiffure. “I suppose the headgear can’t be helped.”
“Unfortunately, no,” Sophia said. “Not unless we cut your hair. It is much too long to just wear in a simple queue.”
Algernon and Anne would have her head if Georgina messed with her tresses. They had become obsessed with her appearance ever since they’d arrived in London. Georgina no longer possessed any doubts that her brother was trying to marry her off. If shaving her head would result in the termination of the secret betrothal, Georgina would gladly do it. But she had a feeling that something even more drastic would need to be done to prevent this union. Hacking off inches of her hair would only earn her endless lectures. The wig was decidedly less odious.
“This is actually one from my perruquier, whom I use for all my masquerade events. It has space built in to accommodate a lady’s tresses,” Lady Calliope explained.
Georgina would have turned to stare at the blond-haired woman, but Hannah was diligently working to secure the hairpiece. “You have a special wig maker for masques?”
“My half brother is the Duke of Blackglen,” Lady Calliope explained. “He holds one almost weekly, especially during the Season.”
Georgina felt her eyes widen. Even she, who knew little of Society, had heard about the notorious Blackglen. Algernon was forever moaning that he did not receive enough invites to the man’s exclusive events. Anne had once let it slip that the duke considered Algernon a boorish sycophant. Although Georgina had little use for hedonists, she’d developed a fondness for the notorious rogue after learning that interesting tidbit.
“There.” Hannah stepped back, examining her handiwork. “How does that feel?”
Tentatively, Georgina moved her head and then shook it more vigorously. “A bit heavy, but I don’t think it will give me trouble.”
“Are you ready for us to take our leave?” Alexander asked. “We really must be on our way.”
“Yes,” Georgina said, although instinct told her to run in the opposite direction. Alexander did not offer her his arm as a gentleman would, but she was, after all, posing as a fellow. Stiffening her shoulders, she tried to emulate a manly stride as she followed Alexander from the Wick cousins’ quarters and down the stairs.
All went well until they reached his equipage in a nearby mews. Georgina started at the sight of the curricle. She had ridden in Percy’s… once. He’d delighted in driving it so fast that her stomach had lurched for nearly an hour after. But as bad as the nausea had been, her fear that they’d crash and break their necks had been worse.
“Are we going in that?” Georgina asked before she remembered to keep the horror from her voice.
“Yes. Championess Quick’s Amphitheater is too far to walk if we want to arrive before the first bout,” Alexander said. “Don’t fash yourself. I’m good at the leathers. I know it doesn’t have any covering, but no one should recognize you in your disguise.”
Georgina wasn’t worried about anyone noticing her. Even if she’d been dressed as a lady, she doubted anyone could identify her. She hadn’t been to the city for so long, and even during her last visit, no one really knew who she was.
“Won’t your curricle attract too much attention? We’re investigating Percy’s disappearance, after all. Is there time to take a hackney or perhaps stop by your residence for a more sedate vehicle?”
“People will notice if I don’t show up in my normal transport,” Alexander pointed out with what she was learning was his usual broad grin. “The whole point is being flashy. Besides, I don’t have access to any other equipage.”
Georgina blinked. Just how impractical was this man that he only owned an extremely lightweight carriage meant for racing about at speeds destined for disaster?
“It is sporting and manly. What use would I have of another conveyance?” Alexander spoke the words blithely with that wide, carefree smile still plastered on his face. Yet Georgina sensed something amiss. Perhaps it was because she had spent so much time in the company of Percy, who sincerely and regularly babbled such nonsense. Or maybe there was another reason for Georgina to detect a contradictory emotion beneath Alexander’s layers and layers of cheer. Even though his countenance and voice gave nothing away, she felt a whisper of sarcasm and even bitterness.
“I would offer to hand you up.” Alexander’s chipper statement broke through Georgina’s reverie. “But I am afraid it might attract attention given your attire. For the ruse to work, I cannot play the part of a gentleman.”
“Oh, of course. Right.” Georgina went to lift her skirts to place her foot on the step and realized she no longer had to contend with the burden of endless petticoats. With a rather sprightly bound, she launched herself into the speedy little carriage. A laugh of delight escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Although Alexander’s expression hadn’t changed, Georgina swore his grin was now genuine as he walked over to the other side of the curricle. He climbed into the seat smoothly and quickly, but he didn’t move with the alacrity she had. She noticed he used his arm muscles to hoist himself aboard, never placing too much weight on his right side.
Given his gait, the cane wasn’t just an affectation. Georgina wondered if his foot was the reason that he’d declined to climb into the pit with Percy that day. After all, her other assumptions about him kept being proven inaccurate.
“If our search for Pendergrast results in more outings, I could teach you,” Alexander said as he expertly guided the matched bays onto the busy London thoroughfare.
“Pardon?” Georgina asked, confused by his words. “Instruct me how?”
“On driving my curricle,” Alexander said, nodding his chin toward the reins. “It’s not that much different from any other gig.”
“I’ve only driven pony carts. My half brother’s home is walkable to the local village and to my own property,” Georgina admitted. Neither Algernon nor Anne wanted her using their precious conveyances.
“I can still show you how to manage the team,” Alexander suggested, his expression bright and cheery while he maneuvered the horses through the snarl of traffic.
“Why?” Georgina asked, truly curious as to what had prompted the offer. The men who she knew hated when women took the leathers in their presence. Even Percy, with his random bursts of generosity, would never consider letting her drive. “Do you see it as a way to pass the time if we are stuck traveling?”
“No.” Alexander shook his head. The sunlight caught in the strands of his auburn hair, giving him a halo of fire. He looked like Adonis, ready to challenge the gods with his mortal male beauty.
“Then your reason is?” Georgina pressed, trying to ignore the odd flutters in her heart. At five-and-twenty, she was too old and on-the-shelf for such girlish silliness.
Alexander slanted a look at her before turning his focus back to the heavily laden wagon in front of them. “I thought that if you were well-versed in the mechanics of driving a curricle, you would feel less trepidatious about riding in one.”
“I am not apprehensive,” Georgina quickly lied, a bit startled at how easily he’d correctly judged her.
“My mistake,” Alexander said good-naturedly, without a hint of irony.
Georgina tilted her head to study him. She’d never actually met a true gentleman. All the so-called noblemen never lived up to the ideals they foisted on others. Could Alexander actually be one?
She had her doubts, but suddenly she heard herself confess, “Maybe I am a bit nervous. Percy drives like the devil.”
Alexander laughed heartily. “That he does, but I promise I only do so during a race, and I wouldn’t with a passenger who didn’t wish to speed.”
“Thank you,” Georgina said, surprised to find that her muscles actually did uncoil a fraction. Instead of sitting ramrod straight, she allowed her shoulders to rest against the squabs. Despite the fact that Alexander was weaving the vehicle through the openings between the coaches, gigs, chaises, and simple farm wagons, he did drive more smoothly than Percy.
Alexander was silent for a moment. When he did speak, he started out cautiously as if debating his words. “There is another reason I offered to instruct you.”
“Oh?” Georgina didn’t know why, but her heart decided to beat at an almost painful rate.
“You seem like a person who has an unquenchable desire to understand precisely how things work. You also prefer to be in control.”
Georgina almost gasped at his perfect assessment. “Did Percy tell you that?”
Alexander chuckled, the sound rumbling through Georgina’s stomach… and then some place decidedly lower. A place that she did not know could rumble.
“Do you really believe Pendergrast is that preceptive?” Alexander asked amusedly without any malice toward her cousin.
“No.” The word came out almost in a whisper, and Georgina didn’t know if she was answering Alexander’s question or giving a command to her own body. No matter what she was negating, she was decidedly uncomfortable with Alexander’s ability to see the true her—even if his words flattered something deep inside her. It was a part that had yearned for years to be noticed. But why by a man like Alexander, with his ever-present grin, his too-fast curricle, and his Adonis-surpassing looks?
Georgina needed to alter the path of this conversation. Immediately.
“Do you have a title that I should be using?” Georgina asked. Yes. That was a perfect inquiry. Make him feel exposed.
“Just Alexander is fine,” he responded lightly without answering her question at all.
“But what should I call you when I am around others?” Georgina asked. “Isn’t Alexander too informal?”
“My friends know I prefer my Christian name,” Alexander said easily. “Besides, an antiquarian such as yourself should enjoy it. Alexander the Great and all. Although no need to include the ‘Great.’ Wouldn’t want me getting a reputation for vanity.”
Georgina had the distinct sense that Alexander was deflecting with a joke. Why did he eschew his title and last name? For so many men of his class, it became their entire identity.
“But we really should be discussing your choice of appellation when you’re dressed as a man,” Alexander said. Although he made an excellent point, Georgina suspected he was continuing to purposely divert the discussion.
“I suppose George Harrington will work. I don’t think anyone will associate it with the real me. I’m not known in London. We can even say I’m Percy’s cousin. He has a bevy of them, including many males.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. George Harrington. I’d extend my hand for a shake, but I think you’d feel more at ease if I kept both of them on the reins.”
“Thank you,” Georgina said, surprised again by Alexander’s honest consideration. Could the man actually be as pleasant as he seemed? Or had he, like Algernon, just acquired the proper manners to dupe people into believing him to be a good, upstanding fellow? For the sake of her mission to find Percy, she hoped it was the former. But if she found Alexander to indeed be trustworthy, would it make it harder for her to battle these odd sensations?
“Don’t look in that direction,” Alexander warned Georgina as they walked through the crowds gathered near Championess Quick’s Amphitheater.
They were in the outskirts of London in a rougher section than Georgina had ever visited. Men in their cups stumbled down the street. Two had almost knocked her over. She noticed that Alexander angled his body and his cane to create almost a bubble around her. It felt odd to have someone watch over her. No one had since her father’s passing.
“Why?” Georgina asked as she averted her gaze.
“Cockfight,” Alexander said, his disgust palpable. “It is a despicable pastime.”
“For a lady to observe?” Georgina asked, curious if he was simply watching out for her virtue or if he actually shared her opinion on the practice.
“It’s not pleasant for anyone with an ounce of compassion to witness,” Alexander said vehemently, his mien serious for once.
“I thought you enjoyed blood sport?” Georgina turned the statement into a question.
Alexander’s face twisted. “There is no sport in two helpless creatures being forced to fight to the death. It is worse when one is noticeably weaker. I like bouts between two evenly matched human champions who want to exhibit their abilities. There’s a thrill in watching talented people display their strength, is there not?”
By the time Alexander finished speaking, his expression had returned to its normal sunniness, as if the storm clouds had never existed. But his cheer did not make his question any less pointed.
“I have never thought about it in that manner,” Georgina admitted.
Alexander suddenly paused in front of a large building. Pulling back one of the double doors, he said, “Now that we’ve arrived at Championess Quick’s, you’ll have the opportunity to witness the best of the best.”
“Here! Here!” A throaty female voice floated out to greet them. “I do like hearing my establishment praised.”
“Championess Quick.” Alexander inclined his head to the tall woman in her fifties.
Like a hostess welcoming her guests to a grand ball, the boxer stood just inside the entrance. Her brown and silver hair was covered by neither powder nor cap. Instead, the tresses had been braided and woven into a crown. Something about the hairstyle made Georgina think of the olive leaves worn by the winners of the ancient Greek Olympics according to Pausanias. The woman was certainly built like a legendary Amazon. Her simple linen jacket must have been specifically tailored to cling to her broad shoulders and her defined arm muscles. Her skirts were unconventionally short and fell only to just below her knees. Her pristine white Holland drawers and stockings seemed designed to highlight the strength of her legs rather than obscure her powerful form. She had a longer face than strictly fashionable, but it only bestowed a harsh but handsome beauty upon her.
“Alexander.” Championess Quick regally tilted her chin to acknowledge him. The woman’s eyes slid over Georgina once, then twice, and finally much more slowly. A devilish glint appeared in her blue-green eyes. “I see you’ve brought a friend…”
Championess Quick paused, and Georgina froze, certain the prizefighter would reveal her secret. Another beat passed, and Georgina glanced in panic toward Alexander. He appeared utterly relaxed.
“What is his name?” Championess Quick finally finished, putting the slightest emphasis on “his.”
Georgina heaved out the breath that she’d been holding. It was obvious that the boxer had guessed Georgina’s gender, but it was equally clear that she would not reveal it.
“Mr. George Harrington,” Alexander supplied. “Mr. Harrington, this is Championess Quick.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harrington.” A secret half smile touched the boxer’s lips as she said the last two words.
“Likewise,” Georgina responded in her deepest voice. She might have tried a little too hard as the single word ended in a rather dramatic coughing fit.
Championess Quick whacked Georgina on the back. At the strong but fortunately not painful blow, Georgina almost tipped over onto her face. As she stumbled, Championess Quick bent over to whisper in her ear.
“Not so low, dearie. You’ll give yourself away in a trifle. Just slightly deepen the natural timbre of your voice.”
Advice given, Championess Quick started to turn away, but Alexander stopped her with a question. “Championess Quick, have you seen Lord Percy Pendergrast lately?”
The prizefighter paused and pursed her lips in consideration. “I do believe he was last here over a week ago when Kate Ball fought Mary Henderson. He was one of the few who bet on Kate. It was a tremendous shock when she won. I don’t believe I’ve seen him since, but I may simply not remember.”
Alexander laughed good-naturedly. “You recall everything about your regulars. If you said he didn’t show, then he wasn’t present. Do you remember anything in particular about Pendergrast on the day of the Ball-Henderson match? Was he his normal self?”
Championess Quick again thought before answering. “He was in high spirits, even for him, but he did win a lot of coin. Perhaps he was a little deeper in his cups than usual. He normally likes to be more sober during the matches, but nothing too unusual.”
“Did he mention any of his plans?” Georgina asked, forgetting to roughen her voice.
Championess Quick motioned with her hand for Georgina to deepen her tone as she asked, “How do you know Lord Percy?”
“He’s my cousin.” Georgina finally managed to properly modulate her fake speech. She was a bit hoarse but passable.
“Mr. Harrington is telling the truth,” Alexander said. “Pendergrast introduced us himself. The two of them are very close, and Mr. Harrington is worried. We haven’t heard from Pendergrast in over a week, and he missed an important obligation.”
“Lord Percy mentioned something about heading to Elysian Fields, but I am afraid that is all I know. You may ask my staff if you desire. Later this evening, I will inquire if they know more than me. If they do, I will send you a missive.”
“Thank you,” Alexander said. Championess Quick gave a quick nod of acknowledgment before she turned to greet her other customers.
“Incredible, isn’t she?” Alexander asked. “You should see her in the ring. She’s excellent both at bareknuckle fighting and with short swords. But her true genius is promoting. She started out with nothing but earned enough to build this amphitheater. She created an entire empire all the while singlehandedly raising her daughter—who, by the by, is unbeatable with the quarterstaff, even against male opponents.”
Georgina glanced over at Alexander. He did not speak about women as many men did, especially about females engaged in a profession some would consider close to prostitution. He mentioned nothing about Championess Quick or her daughter’s physical attributes but only characteristics more often ascribed to men.
“You truly do admire and respect her,” Georgina observed.
“Just watch her navigate through the throng.”
Georgina glanced around the packed but cavernous building with its high ceiling and large windows to let in light. In the center was a wooden platform with a pit surrounding it. Lower-class fellows crowded shoulder to shoulder in the depression as they jostled for better positions. Championess Quick had moved to the tiered seating that was filled with gentlemen in fine silks and expensive wool suits. As Georgina studied the faces of the people in both sections, she realized that a few possessed rather feminine features. Alexander was right. She wasn’t the only woman in disguise.
Championess Quick was leaning over a group of seated noblemen. A young chap moved his right arm as if pretending to strike an invisible foe. Championess Quick gently shook her head. Standing up, she demonstrated what Georgina assumed was the proper way to land the blow. The fellow watched her closely, mimicking her actions.
“Do gentlemen accept advice from Championess Quick?” Georgina asked in shock.
Alexander chuckled, and Georgina sorely wished he’d stop making the deep, intoxicating sound. She was tired of battling its effects.
“No one admits to it openly, but they take lessons from her. I hear there’s a waiting list. Championess Quick is selective, too. I’m fortunate she agreed to teach me. She showed me how I can use my cane to defend myself and a few ways to balance with my bad leg. The best strategy for me is to get my opponent on the ground,” Alexander told Georgina.
Unbidden, an image of a shirtless Alexander popped into Georgina’s mind. If she thought his laugh had an odd impact on her nerves, the image did much more damage. A sense of something she could only categorize as need rushed through her. Desperate not to deal with any unwanted yearnings, Georgina blurted out the first sentence that came to mind.
“I thought you said no one confesses that she taught them.”
Alexander winked once more. “I believe I can trust you. Besides, I thought you’d be interested in my endorsement of Championess Quick’s lessons.”
“Whyever would you think that?” Georgina asked, with perhaps more tartness than necessary. But a horrified part of her wondered if Alexander suspected that he’d been boxing half naked across her imagination.
Alexander leaned close, and an annoying flush of warmth rushed over Georgina’s face and neck. She was so unsettled that she almost missed his comment.
“She teaches women as well.”
Was Alexander envisioning her boxing bare-chested? Georgina’s entire body burst into flames of embarrassment.
“I’m not really an adventurer,” Georgina blurted out in a panic.
Alexander shrugged with a nonchalance that Georgina certainly didn’t feel. “Knowledge of how to fight might prove useful during our search for Pendergrast.”
“Do you expect me to beat the answers out of people? Even if I did take instructions from Championess Quick, I am not exactly what one would classify as intimidating.”
To Georgina’s surprise, Alexander did not laugh. In fact, his mouth flattened into a rather sober expression. “I meant in defense. If your cousin was truly abducted, we could be facing danger ourselves.”
The unease that Georgina had felt since overhearing Algernon’s clandestine conversation burgeoned inside her. She had no idea if the discussion was related to Percy’s disappearance, but she couldn’t escape the sensation that peril was barreling toward her.
“I don’t possess the pin money to afford lessons,” Georgina admitted. “I have an inheritance from my father, but my half brother controls it.”
“If you’d like, I can show you a few maneuvers,” Alexander volunteered, his customary affable grin back.
Georgina did not understand his continued kindness. He had already offered to show her how to drive a curricle. Did he pity her? Was there perhaps an ulterior motive to his generosity? Maybe he was behind Percy’s disappearance after all, and he meant to disarm her with his charm.
Georgina was just about to question his benevolence when Alexander lightly bumped her arm and began to guide her through the crowd. As they walked swiftly, he bent his head near hers so no one could overhear. She wondered why he even bothered. The din inside the echoey building was overwhelming, making it hard to hear a person even when standing directly across from them.
“Do you see that scholarly-looking fellow seated in the far corner and scribbling away?” Alexander asked. “He’s the Earl of Clifville and an antiquarian whom I’ve seen at the Elysian Fields coffeehouse when Pendergrast dragged me there. If I am remembering rightly, his ancestral seat is in Essex.”
A spidery sensation whispered down Georgina’s spine, and she repressed the urge to shiver. Frantically, she searched her mind to recall if she’d heard his name before. “Do you think he caused my cousin’s disappearance? Does he have a particular interest in English history?”
“I am not very familiar with his work,” Alexander admitted, “but he seems like a nice enough fellow, if a bit of a dullard. I honestly cannot imagine him bestirring himself from his books long enough to plot a kidnapping. But he might have some useful information. Despite his retiring nature, I heard he’s a favorite of King George, and he might have access to gossip that I never would.”
As they approached the tall, slender man who appeared to be in his thirtieth year, Georgina realized that the earl fit her ideal almost perfectly. He possessed the rawboned build of an academic who spent most of his days at his desk, forgetting even to eat as research consumed him. Even now, despite the cacophony of sounds, Clifville diligently wrote on scraps of paper, a book laid across his knees as a desk. Beside him on a nearby windowsill perched an open ink bottle. Although Georgina had never attended a fight before, she assumed the sight was an unusual one.
“Lord Clifville,” Alexander shouted, but the earl did not appear to hear. He just kept scratching his quill over the parchment. Alexander had to call him three more times before Clifville finally raised his head. Blinking slowly, just like Georgina would have done after being pulled from her writing, he waited several beats before he focused on Alexander’s face.
Georgina’s unease fled. Alexander was correct. Clifville didn’t seem the kidnapping sort—not that she knew what a kidnapping sort would be like.
Georgina took the time to study the peer. He had slight hollows under his cheekbones, and his Adam’s apple stood out. He was pale without the use of face powder. His brown hair was tied back into a queue with a simple black ribbon that matched the plain practicality of his unadorned wool suit. He seemed dressed for a stroll in the country rather than for a London boxing match. Although not classically handsome, his face possessed an austere appeal. He exuded a quiet solidness that should have intrigued Georgina.
Yet despite being confronted with her very fantasy, she felt decidedly… unmoved. Her heart did not flutter, let alone jump. There wasn’t even the occasional odd beat. No unusual sensations rumbled through her. Nothing was rumbling at all. Her breath didn’t seem caught in her throat or even shortened. She felt absolutely normal… unlike when a certain redhead sent a ridiculously cheery smile her way.
“I’m Alexander, Lord Percy Pendergrast’s friend,” Alexander explained as the earl still stared at him owlishly.
The scholar shook himself as if waking up from a long nap. “Oh yes. Alexander. I remember you now.”
“This is Mr. George Harrington, Lord Percy’s cousin,” Alexander said by way of introduction to Georgina. “He studies the classics, too. Pendergrast seems to have gone carousing again, and Mr. Harrington was trying to locate him. Have you seen him lately?”
Clifville’s eyes suddenly brightened as he turned to Georgina. Yet even as the man’s excited gaze met hers, she still felt… well, the exact same as she always did. No excited stirrings. Not even a feeble one.
“Lord Percy did stop by Elysian Fields a few times recently. He brought with him a most marvelous helmet. Very ancient, but it did not appear Roman. He claimed it belonged to Arthur, but it is not likely to have been possessed by a mythical legend. I was looking forward to his presentation at the Antiquarians of England Society, but he did not show. A grave pity.”
The earl seemed to speak the same language as Georgina’s very soul, but still… quietude. Not a flare. Not a flame. Not even a small spark. She only felt frustration at her cousin’s cavalier handling of her helmet.
“Did anyone show particular interest in the piece?” Georgina asked, remembering at the last moment to lower her timbre.
“Well, of course, everyone gathered around,” Clifville said. “We were all exceedingly impressed. Lord Percy never ceases to amaze me. When speaking with him, he does not appear that interested in the ancient world, yet his articles are superbly knowledgeable. I would not have thought him of the temperament to systematically search for antiquities, yet it appears that he is very deliberate in his digging.”
Pride whipped through Georgina, but no other emotions sparked.
“Did anyone seem abnormally intrigued with the helmet—an obsession beyond professional curiosity?” Alexander pressed.
Clifville rubbed his chin with his narrow fingers. “Well, there was that rather boisterous newcomer: Lord Henry Talbot.”
Georgina started at the name that she’d almost forgotten. He’d been one of the callow youths who’d viciously mocked her during her come-out. Algernon had originally been keen on her marrying the second son of a duke, but Lord Henry had scoffed at wedding a wallflower.
To Georgina’s surprise, Alexander also visibly stiffened. He seemed to pale under his bronzed skin. For a moment, a haunted light flickered in his hazel eyes. But suddenly it was gone, and he was back to smiling. “Good lord. What is a devil like Henry Talbot doing at Elysian Fields? It is much too tame for him.”
“He made mention of his father wanting him to improve his reputation after his older brother, Lord Hawley, was arrested for something dreadful—highway robbery, I believe.” Clifville lifted his narrow shoulders into a shrug. “It is a grand scandal, but I don’t know the details. I rarely pay attention to gossip. But Lord Henry was completely enamored by the idea of the helmet belonging to King Arthur. He offered to buy it, but Lord Percy declined—very vehemently, if I recall. Seems he isn’t interested in selling.”
“Is there anything else you remember? Did he talk about any places where he planned on going?” Georgina asked, her heart squeezing as she thought of the danger that her cousin could be in. Dear Percy might have foolishly displayed her helmet all around town, but at least he’d refused to part with it.
“Not that I recall.” Clifville settled back into his seat. “As I said, he mentioned the Antiquarians, but that was all. If you don’t mind, though, the bout is about to begin, and I am here to observe it for historical purposes.”
“Pardon?” Georgina asked as her estimation of the man began to drop. Did he truly think he could twist his attendance at a boxing match into research about antiquity?
“I am writing a paper on the veracity of the Amazons and thought it prudent to watch modern female fighters,” Clifville explained. “Many men claim it is impossible for women to have performed the feats of warcraft ascribed to legendary warriors by Greek historians, but I have heard that some of the female competitors here are better than males in their particular disciplines.”
Georgina had evidently misjudged Lord Clifville’s intellectual bent. He did have a legitimate academic reason for his presence at the amphitheater.
“Lizzie Quick, Championess Quick’s daughter, is one of them,” Alexander said. “She is to fight Jane Hawkins first with the quarterstaff. If the bout is a fast one—and it normally is with Lizzie—then the second fight will be a bare-knuckled one between Agnus Cooper and Joan Foy.”
“You seem knowledgeable,” Clifville said. “Would you two care to join me?”
Alexander turned a questioning look in Georgina’s direction. She debated for a moment. If the competition was about to begin, they could no longer move freely about the building to question the attendees and staff about Percy. But should Georgina stay at the match when no more investigating could be done? She abhorred blood sport, but part of her wanted to see the women engage in fisticuffs, especially after meeting the peerless Championess Quick.
A sudden cheer rang out. Georgina swung around to see two women take to the floor. They both wore ensembles similar to Championess Quick’s—shortened skirts, tailored jackets, Holland drawers, and white stockings. In their hands, they held thick wooden sticks. It was easy to identify Championess Quick’s daughter. She possessed the same regal bearing as her mother, her chestnut-brown hair also woven into a crown.
At the first crack of the women’s quarterstaffs, Georgina plunked herself down beside Lord Clifville. By the second, she was leaning halfway over her knees for a better view. After the third, she started peppering Alexander with questions.
It was glorious watching the women whirl, duck, and charge. The wood whistled through the air, almost creating its own wild song. There was fierce beauty in the fighters’ footwork and their magnificent strikes. Excitement and perhaps even a sense of pride thundered through Georgina. Lizzie and Jane’s prowess made Georgina wonder about her own hidden depths. What would happen if she did take Alexander up on his offer to teach her how to fight?