Chapter Thirty-Eight
Edward held his breath, his focus fully on the woman in front of him.
Wearing a simple gray dress, Franny stood in the center of the ring, looking like a fierce goddess preparing for battle.
Her toned shoulders led to well-formed arms that were capable of both hefting heavy items and actively participating in strenuous bed sport.
Only the most lionhearted or insane would think of approaching a combatant with such intensity etched across her visage.
Even with the top of her chemise exposed, her sleeves tied around her waist, and a cut on her face that hadn’t yet healed, Franny was the embodiment of a powerful female warrior.
Her crowning glory was the red braid that hung down her back.
The second the bell rang, Franny’s left fist shot out, gauging her distance.
Quick jabs followed, the first hitting and the second brushing Ruth’s shoulder.
As Ruth retreated, Franny stuck to her like glue.
Ruth grounded herself and prepared to jab, but Franny’s hip twisted twice and powered two right hooks into Ruth’s oblique.
The crowd called out boisterous directives as Ruth backed away.
Viscount Davenport leaned close to Edward and shouted over the din, “I dare say, Franny is on fire. She isn’t wasting any time.”
Edward’s sleepless night had been for naught, and his fretting had been pointless. Of course, Franny would win this fight. She was a force of nature. Determined. Skilled. Strong. Resilient. And soon this amazing woman would be his wife. He was the luckiest man in this overcrowded establishment.
So far, Franny’s shorter stature and bulkier muscles had not been a disadvantage against her taller, lighter opponent.
Moving with the agility of a panther, she circled Ruth, her right fist protecting her chin as her left fist shot out, throwing one jab after another.
If Ruth didn’t find her rhythm, this fight would be over in the next few minutes, leaving a very unsatisfied audience.
Edward, on the other hand, would be relieved to have this night behind him.
Franny ducked beneath Ruth’s extended arm, jammed her opponent’s reach, and hammered on her midsection.
“You’ve got this, Franny,” Edward yelled.
Eventually, Ruth shook herself from her stupor and broke away. Franny slid forward, stalking her. Ruth halted her retreat, settled low, and flung out her fist, walloping Franny’s shoulder.
Experiencing a sympathy pang, Edward rubbed out the imaginary sting in his shoulder.
Meanwhile, Franny was undaunted. She slid back, lunged forward, and snapped out a series of impressive combinations that continued until both her footwork and her hand speed slowed.
Her fire had run out of fuel. Edward’s stomach soured.
Their expressions resolute, the women caught their breath as they circled each other. Edward took the opportunity to breathe with them. If he didn’t calm himself, his heart would give out from overexertion.
The break in action was too short for Edward’s liking. Fists again flew, and he was certain he could hear the thwack of knuckle against skin. Although this had to be his imagination because the loudly cheering spectators would drown out any low sounds emanating from the ring.
Franny’s flurry of jabs followed by her cross knocked Ruth backward.
Ruth quickly regained her balance and followed Franny, throwing speedy combinations that put Franny on the defensive.
Ruth unleashed a wicked cross, but Franny ducked and came out on the other side of it, only to have the taller woman whirl and punch her breadbasket so hard that Franny doubled over.
Her opponent used Franny’s moment of weakness to her advantage, gaining the upper hand and dominating the ring for the next few minutes.
Although Edward continued to cheer enthusiastically, his heart ached. As he feared she might, Franny had come out too strong, tired herself out, and now Ruth had the edge.
Ruth delivered a right, left uppercut. Franny stumbled, ricocheting off the rope, proving Edward’s unfortunate theory was indeed correct. Luckily, she found her balance and did not crash to the ground.
“Ruth has improved since I last saw her fight,” Griffendale said.
“Mayhap she learned a few things when she was in prison,” the viscount said.
Edward was much too overwrought and concentrating entirely too hard to listen to these aristocrats and their pointless drivel. He glared at Davenport.
“What?” Palms up, the viscount shrugged. “I’m sure lady prisoners have to learn to protect themselves if they mean to survive.”
Although this was true, Edward couldn’t think about anything but the woman he loved struggling to maintain her stamina. Hoping to send her a long-distance infusion of energy, he pushed through the crowd. “Come on, Franny,” he hollered as he edged as close to the ring as the throng allowed.
No matter how much he willed her to regain her vigor, Franny continued to fade.
Eventually, blood dripped from her perfect nose, and he had to look away.
A sense of hopelessness washed over him.
There was nothing he could do to help her, and she would be devastated if she lost this fight, especially to a woman anyone in the know considered an inferior pugilist.
By the time Edward found the resolve to return his attention to the ring, Ruth had cornered Franny and was unleashing a steady barrage of punches. If Franny didn’t get out of the corner, this fight would soon be over.
The only thing Edward could do was to love her with all his heart. Right now. After she lost. And every day until forever. “Franny, I love you,” he yelled.
Leaving her chin unprotected, Franny met his gaze. The defeat written across her face broke his heart. He couldn’t let her give up.
“I love you, Frances Valentine,” he called. “My brave warrior, I bloody love you. Now, cover your chin and get out of that corner.”
Even from this distance, he saw the spark ignite behind her eyes. He watched in awe as she came back to life with an audible roar. Instead of protecting herself, she drove her fist up and under Ruth’s chin. As Ruth’s head flew back, Franny ducked and came out on the other side of her.
Ruth pivoted to face Franny, then seemed to shrink to half her size. Perhaps she sensed Franny’s raw tenacity. Franny threw jabs and hooks until Ruth was the one in the corner. Settling into her stance, Franny hammered on Ruth’s midsection.
“You’ve got her, Franny,” Edward screamed.
Franny dispatched a right-left-right uppercut combination. Ruth wobbled, then toppled, arse backwards. Luckily, her head hit the rope, softening her landing.
Breathing hard, her fists clenched at her side, Franny stood over her supine opponent.
“One. Two. Three…” one of the umpires counted.
Edward held his breath.
Franny bent forward and gasped for air as thunderous cheers echoed off the purple walls.
“…Eight. Nine. Ten.” The umpire grabbed Franny’s hand and held it high.
“Fiery Franny! Fiery Franny!” the jubilant horde chorused.
Either most of these people had wagered on Franny, or they simply appreciated watching her come back from the brink of what looked like defeat. Meanwhile, Coach and Josie held Franny in their arms as Ruth’s knee man and bottle man tried to shake her to consciousness.
Suddenly, Griffendale, Wentworth, and Davenport surrounded Edward, clapping him on the back.
“Damn good fight,” Davenport said.
“I might have my new champion for the next Duke’s and Dame’s Mill,” Griffendale added.
Even over the raucous noise, Edward heard Franny calling him.
He was shoved about as he fought through the frenetic throng.
By the time he reached the ropes, his body had taken quite a bit of abuse.
Although, to be fair, he had not experienced a fraction of what these lady pugilists had been through.
Franny stood above him, tears pouring from her eyes. “Edward, I couldn’t find you.” She grabbed his arm and tugged on it until they stood face-to-face in the ring.
“I’ve been here the entire time.” He wrapped her in his arms. “You were amazing, darling. Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. Mayhap I’m happy because I won and you are here with me.” She sniffled. “But I made a grave error in underestimating my opponent.” Her words were almost drowned out by the pandemonium. “And then I panicked and couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t pace myself.”
“But you didn’t give up,” he said, drying her tears. He untied his cravat and used it to gently clean the blood from her nose. At the rate this was going, he would need to work his old Drury Lane shifts to earn enough blunt to purchase new cravats.
Franny’s gaze slid to Ruth, and she bit her lip. “Will she recover?”
Edward held Franny against his chest and rubbed the back of her neck, whispering soothing words until Ruth’s eyes opened and she was helped onto her feet.
“Oh, thank heavens.” Joy radiating from Franny, she turned back to him and smiled the most radiant smile he’d ever seen.
“Even though I couldn’t see you, I heard you say, ‘My brave warrior, I bloody love you’ and I felt as if you were sending me your strength.
You thinking I am brave gave me my second wind. ”
“Franny, my darling, you are the most courageous woman I’ve ever met.”
“And together we are invincible.” She stroked his cheek. “Did Bear return your pistol?”
“Yes. Right after we got here.”
“Now that I have kept my end of the bargain and you have your weapon, let us collect my winnings, leave this over-loud place, and go tell Zigzag how we conquered the world.”
“Perfect.” Edward chuckled. “My cat will be happy to receive the good news.”
“Our cat.” Franny’s grin grew so wide that her adorable nose wrinkled. “Papa will be so tired he won’t notice I’m missing, so you should give me a nice warm bath.” She fluttered her golden lashes. “And since I won, I would like you to be naked while you massage the soap into my skin.”
“Hell, yes, please, and thank you,” Edward bellowed, as he victoriously thumped his fists on his chest. Thereupon, he escorted his fiancée, Fiery Franny, tonight’s female champion, through her adoring fans.