Chapter Five
God, she’s still so damned beautiful.
Matthew lunged forward. Seth feinted to the side and stuck out his foot. Matthew tripped over it and lost his balance. Taking advantage, Seth gave a lightning-quick strike to his back, toppling Matthew to the mat.
“That’s point one for Mr. Reeves,” Zeke called out from the edge of the ring.
Matthew rolled onto his back, grateful they had invested in the softer padding.
The boxing room was an early addition to the factory, but necessary. Following the incident with Sir Reginald, there were few things that Matthew hated more than himself. Instead of falling into melancholia, he was unexpectedly angry.
He had meant to propose to Lady Jasmine Sinclair upon her debut.
Then his parents died, and he assumed the title of Viscount with all of its financial burdens.
Years later, he had earned a fortune from a rifle invention and finally had the means to marry her—only to become the most hated man in the kingdom, and watched her sail away.
In the following weeks, he carried himself as if he had a thorn in his shoe. Between the demands on every single minute of his time and lack of sleep, he sometimes lashed out. Said things he didn’t mean.
Said things he did.
Seth said his aggression was normal, but it needed an outlet.
They had spared no expense in the training room’s construction.
Striking dummies and punching bags lined the walls.
The room was sectioned off from the rest of the factory, with an open door to the alley allowing air in.
The cool brick walls had absorbed the smell of rotten fish and stagnant water from the nearby docks.
He spent so much time here, maybe he absorbed it too.
Maybe that’s why she’s not interested.
With a shake of his head, Seth grabbed Matthew’s hand and helped him to his feet.
“Am I going to be your punching bag every time you and Lady Jasmine fight?”
“No, because we won’t fight again,” Matthew said. “I got the message last night and this morning. I doubt she even likes me anymore.”
“You could be less aggressive,” Zeke offered. “It might help to be nice to her.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Helpful advice as always.”
Compared to the half-dressed men in the ring, Mr. Ezekiel Sanderson stood pristine in a tan suit, put together and ready for paperwork.
“This is all simple,” Zeke said. “You care for her. You’re titled and wealthy. Breakfast notwithstanding, Lady Jasmine used to like you. Send flowers and go ask for her hand.”
“Why ask?” Matthew scoffed. “I’m not going to waste my time with a woman determined to marry another man.”
Matthew challenged Seth again. Elbows up, he blocked Seth’s advance and waited. After three punches, Seth left his right side open—and Matthew landed a solid strike against his ribs.
Seth grunted, then took a step back and rubbed the reddened skin from the blow. Breathing through his teeth, he said, “I agree with Zeke. Stop being a coward and ask her to marry you. Your name is likely on that list!”
“And it has been for years! Jasmine never picked me. It became a running joke.” Matthew gritted out, “Perhaps a direct refusal, for old time’s sake?”
“You’ve changed. Maybe it’s fair to say she has too,” Seth said.
“She’s changed plenty,” Matthew grumbled. No longer soft and sweet, but bitter as chocolate. It was maddeningly attractive. Sucking in his cheek, he admitted, “I don’t know where I would start.”
“Start small,” Zeke said, walking the edges of the ring. “You’re an accomplished rake. Have you tried seducing her?”
“What kind of question is that?!” Matthew asked. “Yes, I’ve tried, but I’ve never been successful.”
Seth swung forward. Matthew dodged, and Seth’s fist sailed past his left ear.
“Yes, but that was before you slept with half of London,” Seth said.
“I haven’t slept with half of London.” Matthew grinned and tapped his cheek. “Only a quarter.”
Seth reared back and hit him with full force, connecting hard against Matthew’s side, staggering him into the ropes. Taking ragged breaths, Matthew stood and wiped sweat from his brow.
“Negative point, Lord Lincolnshire,” Zeke chided. “Poor sportsmanship.”
“He hit me!”
“No strikes to the face,” Seth warned. “We aren’t brawling.”
“Come to think of it, Lord Lincolnshire. You’ve only pursued ladies with long black hair,” Zeke mused. “I imagined it was your family type, considering your sisters also prefer—”
“Don’t comment on my sisters’ preferences, Zeke.” Matthew pointed at him. “Or you’ll be next in this ring.”
“Why must you torture yourself like this?” Seth asked. “It’s been four years, get on with it.”
“Eight years,” Matthew reminded him.
Matthew stepped forward once more, exchanging blows with Seth. Matthew blocked one-two-three strikes, then jabbed low. When Seth dropped his guard, Matthew grabbed Seth’s arm and twisted it behind his back. Wincing and immobile, Seth tapped his shoulder. “Enough.”
Matthew released him.
“Point for Lord Lincolnshire.”
Seth shot Zeke a glare. Zeke smiled. Chest heaving, Seth held his hands up over his head to ease the strain in his shoulder. Seth was getting tired, but Matthew wasn’t finished.
“Another round,” he ordered.
“No. I’m out of form.” Seth groaned. “I haven’t lifted anything other than a feed sack or a three-year-old in months.”
“No better reason than to keep you spry, Papa,” Matthew teased, swinging forward to poke at Seth’s stomach. “I thought the expectant mother was supposed to have a big belly.”
Growling, Seth swung forward. Matthew blocked his strikes as Zeke paced around the ring.
“Now that I think on it… I knew there was something between you in Ringwood,” Zeke said, still analyzing him. “When the two of you disappeared together.”
“Oh, you mean when Matthew was being a hypocrite?” Seth landed a harsher than usual blow to Matthew’s stomach. “When he maimed me for doing what he was doing?”
Matthew had caught Seth red-handed in Cassandra’s bed years prior. Seth had a scar splitting his left eyebrow from when Matthew thrashed him for it.
“You earned every blow you damn bastard!” Matthew lunged at him, grappling with him. He pushed Seth back and took a swipe at his face. “And I was not doing what you were doing! It was one kiss!”
It had been the best kiss of his life. The type of kiss that could change a person forever.
And she blamed it on alcohol. She said it was nothing.
But it couldn’t have been nothing. Not when she sighed in his arms, when she had tasted so sweet, or when he couldn’t smell lilies without thinking of her.
She was all he dreamt about. He tried to find that feeling elsewhere and never could.
“She wasn’t supposed to come back,” he whispered through his teeth.
He had resigned himself to a life without her. What the devil was he supposed to do now? It would have been better if she hadn’t come back at all than to lose her again.
“She should have stayed in Spain!”
Matthew swung forward with blow after blow. Seth guarded with his elbows high. He backed Seth against the ropes and swung low, deep in Seth’s gut. A strangled noise escaped the other man, and he inhaled big gulping breath.
Matthew’s next blow connected with Seth’s jaw.
Seth’s blue eyes flared, and he swiftly grabbed Matthew’s arm, swept his leg behind his knees, and shoved him face-first into the platform. Landing hard on his elbows, pain shot through Matthew’s arms, and he groaned. His next breath was a sharp hiss as he rolled onto his back.
“We’re done. Whatever this is, take it out on the bag.” Seth rubbed his chin with the back of his hand and grimaced. “Be prepared to hear it later from my wife about why her husband is coming home bruised.”
“Why wait until later?” Cassandra’s voice carried.
Matthew jolted to a seated position to meet his sister’s eyes. Arms crossed, she glared at him, and standing next to her was—bloody hell—Jasmine.
Her face reddened. She stomped her foot forward and shouted, “I might have stayed in Spain if I knew I would receive such a warm welcome!”
Hands clenched into fists, she stormed out of the training room and into the alley.
Matthew stumbled to his feet and slid between the ropes to follow her. He shot a scathing look at his sister along the way, who matched it.
Good to know she would be no help.
The cool air hit his flushed cheeks as he stepped outside and searched for Jasmine’s green dress. He didn’t have to search far. She waited for him right outside the door. Using both of her hands, she shoved him and then poked her finger into his chest. Her eyes were aflame as they met his.
“If you’re so desperate to be rid of me, don’t you worry! I’ll be engaged by the end of the week, and I’ll go back to Spain!”
He reached for her, and she stepped back. He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. “Let me explain myself, at least.”
“Don’t bother!” Through her anger, her chocolate eyes tinged with hurt, and her lip quivered. “I missed you! I wanted to see you! When you danced with me last night, I thought you missed me, too.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned from him. “I don’t even know you anymore, Matthew.”
He reached for her again, but she didn’t see it. In a flash of skirts and quick strides, she ran from him. At the end of the alley, she turned onto the main road and disappeared.
That was all she ever did.
Heart-pounding and hurt, he whispered, “I did miss you.”
A series of small footsteps and an annoyed sigh alerted him to Cassandra’s presence. She looked to either side of the alley. “Where did she go?”
Matthew pointed and drawled, “That way. She took a left.”
“What is wrong with you?” With a hand on her hip, Cassandra poked him in the same spot Jasmine had. “If my best friend moves to Spain because you made an offhanded comment—”
Matthew slapped her hand away.
“Save your scolding.” Matthew met her glare with one of his own. “You’ve gotten bossier since you became a mother.”