Chapter Sixteen
T he following morning, Michael wasn’t at his best.
“You were late today, scrapper.” Tommy Jones circled him, keeping an eagle eye on his fighter’s movements. The two had been training for the better part of an hour, and this was the first time Tommy had said anything other than “quicker!” or “harder!”
Michael lowered his head and continued to shadow-box, holding a weight in each hand as he threw a combination of punches. His arms were on fire, but he wouldn’t quit. Tommy was right; he had been late.
“I know. It won’t happen again,” Michael panted. “Sorr—” He stopped himself from apologizing because he wasn’t really sorry. He’d woken up to a delightfully willing Maggie, who insisted she make love to him one more time before he left. A man should never apologize for keeping his woman satisfied.
Tommy’s face screwed up in thought. He tore his cap off and scratched his shiny head. “I know you were with that girl.”
Michael smirked and then punched his imaginary opponent harder. “She’s not a girl, Tommy. She’s my girl.”
Tommy muttered a curse. “Whatever you call her, you know how I feel about that. I told you, no distractions. We’re so close to having everything we want. Everything we’ve worked for is finally paying off. Women weaken legs, you know that. And I don’t need you losing sleep and getting all moony eyed over some chit.”
Michael dropped his hands. “She’s not a—”
“Don’t tell me she’s not a chit. I’m trying to explain something to you. Are you listening?” Tommy waited for Michael to nod. “I was worried that O’Shaughnessy might have knocked the sense out of you, but now I think it might be this woman.”
“I was late today—that’s it. I told you it won’t happen again, and it won’t.”
Michael picked up his fists once more as Tommy continued to study him. His gaze was sharp. The man had trained boxers for most of his life and never missed a thing. If Michael was slipping in any way, Tommy would know it. But Michael knew he wasn’t slipping. If anything, he felt stronger, faster, and smarter than he had before. Whatever anyone threw at him, he was confident he could take it.
And that was because of Maggie. Only Maggie. The woman made him feel invincible. The only issue still driving him crazy was her hesitance in needing him. Maggie wanted him; Michael knew that well enough. But he wanted more. He wanted her to need him. There was no weakness in that, and he wished she would acknowledge it.
“Will you take that silly grin off your face?” Tommy barked. “You’re supposed to be imagining your opponent right now. Are you going to smile in the ring?”
Michael hadn’t known he’d been smiling. He wondered how much he smiled throughout the day without being aware of it. No doubt he looked insane walking down the street. Insane but happy.
“Just stop now, that’s enough!” Tommy cried, throwing a towel over Michael’s bare shoulder. Michael grunted at the trainer and dropped his dumbbells, wiping himself down. The men walked to the outer edges of the gym, receiving congratulations and respectful head bobs as they passed. Michael was secretly chuffed. He’d rarely got such pleasantries from the other boxers. Usually, they remained politely aloof when it came to him. But ever since he’d put O’Shaughnessy down, he’d commanded a new level of admiration. Michael didn’t encourage the attention, but he didn’t dissuade it either—he’d earned it.
One of the young boys who helped out in the gym ran up to him with a glass of water. Again, that was new. Michael usually had to get his own. He drank it down in one gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Tommy watched the other gym members go through their workouts, but something was different. The trainer seemed stiffer than usual, wound too tight—like a powder keg just waiting to go off.
Michael’s curiosity was piqued. “What did you mean,” he asked the trainer, kicking him in the boot, “when you said we were so close? What have you heard?”
Tommy still hadn’t put his cap back on his head. The scalp was red and raw from his picking at it, something Michael noticed he only did when he was nervous. “It’s nothing,” the trainer replied dismissively. “You don’t need to know yet.”
Alarm sounded in Michael’s ears. He kicked his trainer again. “Know what? What aren’t you telling me?”
Tommy’s heavy eyes had a shine, an excitement that Michael had rarely seen. But they also held a little trepidation. “Jack Harrison’s man came to see me a couple of days ago.”
The alarm only got louder. There was only one reason why Harrison’s man would come sniffing around here. He was looking for a fight for his champion.
“Does he want me?” Michael asked. “Does he want a match?”
Tommy attempted to stay solid and professional. “Well, you know… he was planning on scheduling O’Shaughnessy, and you beat O’Shaughnessy. But he thinks it was a fluke. He thinks Harrison will put you down fast and easy. So… it’s a match they think will benefit them.”
Michael lashed out, grabbed the trainer, and kissed him on his shiny forehead. “Who cares why they want the match!” he exclaimed. “They’re giving me a chance. I can’t believe it. How did this happen?”
“I’ll tell you how it happened,” Tommy said, wiping off his forehead, battling a smile that wouldn’t quit. “We worked hard. We kept going. We fought whoever they put in front of us, and we won. The only people that believed in us were us. And now we’ve forced everyone’s hand. Now, they can’t ignore us anymore.”
Michael grabbed him for a bear hug. He picked Tommy up, bouncing him high in the air. “Did you hear that, boys?” he called out to the gym. “Jack Harrison wants to fight me. He says I’m going to be easy! But I’m going to make sure he eats his words along with the teeth I knock loose!”
The boxers stopped training to clap and cheer for Michael, for the first time making him feel like he was actually a part of something and not just a person with his face pressed up against the glass.
“We’ll be rooting for ya, Mike,” a voice called out.
“You deserve it, scrapper!” It wasn’t lost on Michael that no one called him my lord . Not once.
He beamed, dropping Tommy back to his feet. “Thanks, boys. I’ll make you proud of me!”
“All right now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tommy grumbled, shaking out his jacket. “I still have to settle everything with Harrison’s man”—he narrowed his gaze on Michael, almost like he was testing the waters—“but he was thinking the fight could happen in a couple weeks’ time. If you’re ready.”
“Oh, I’ll be ready.”
“So no more being late,” Tommy said. “No more late nights. No more drinking. This fight is all I want you thinking about, morning, noon, and night. You understand?”
Michael nodded, his mind going straight to Maggie. He was supposed to meet her at Lady Alice’s later in the afternoon so they could go together to meet Mr. Burnham about the dogs. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he told her everything.
Michael bent down to pick up the dumbbells again and headed back to his training area.
“Where are you going?” Tommy said.
Michael turned to find the trainer where he’d left him. “We have to train,” he answered. “Where do you think I’m going?”
Tommy shook his head. “We have time for all of that tomorrow. Drop those weights, scrapper. We’re going to the pub.”
Still, Michael didn’t move. “The pub? You just told me there was no drinking.”
Tommy started for the door, waving a hand for Michael to follow him. “I meant tomorrow. Tonight, we’re going to celebrate.”
*
Aunt Alice gave Maggie an apologetic look. “You shouldn’t be angry with him. He’s a viscount, you know. He probably had pressing business.” She sniffed. “Perhaps he’s searching for the perfect wine for me.”
Maggie continued to pace around the foyer. George sat at the bottom of the steps watching her every irritated stomp. “I’m not angry, just… frustrated. He knew how important this was to me.”
“Why don’t you write Mr. Burnham?” Alice said. “Ask him to reschedule. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Maggie shook her head. “No, I don’t want to do that again. I’m afraid if I don’t meet him this time, he’ll just give up on me.” She frowned at her boots, mulling over the prickly situation. “No, I have to go. I will go. If Michael ever deigns to come, tell him I waited as long as I could.”
Alice’s expression grew panicked. She followed Maggie as her niece gathered her parasol, reticule, and George’s leash. “He told you not to go alone, and I agree with him. You shouldn’t meet with a man we don’t know.”
Maggie attached the leash to George’s collar. “He’s not some man. He’s Mr. Burnham. We’ve written numerous times. There’s nothing to be worried about. Besides, we’re meeting in the park where there are plenty of people. What could happen?”
“Still…” Alice trailed off, and Maggie knew that she’d won the argument. “Why don’t you take Jane with you?”
Maggie stifled a grimace. She liked the maid well enough, but didn’t want to spend the afternoon being followed around, forced to make polite conversation. “Jane’s busy, and I don’t want to pull her from her work. Honestly, Alice, it will be fine, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
With an encouraging smile, she stole out the door before Alice could say anything further.
The journey was so much quicker without having to pull George this way and that. Under Michael’s tutelage, the dachshund was well on his way to becoming a model dog. Maggie couldn’t wait to show him off to Mr. Burnham. She was certain the man would be impressed and demand they breed the animals. In fact, he should worry about her being the picky one. Not just any dog would be good enough for her George. She was a proud mother, and her son deserved only the best.
Maggie let her mind wander to the beautiful little puppies that would come from this partnership. It was safer for her because if she let herself think about Michael’s forgetfulness, she would only get angry. Could he have forgotten? She’d reminded him before he left her bed that morning, though it had been early, and he had been singularly focused on something else. But that didn’t sit right with Maggie. Alice was most likely right—he was busy. And Maggie couldn’t expect him to always put her first.
Michael would be disappointed with her, there was no doubt about that; however, she would have to make him see reason. He couldn’t expect her to wait around for him and not do what she’d planned just because he wasn’t there. How was that fair to her?
The greenhouse came into view. It was just as vacant and dilapidated as before, and the lack of sunlight on the cloudy day made it seem even more sinister and lacking. Maggie’s steps faltered at the grim picture, but when saw movement through the dirty glass, her dedication to the matter at hand strengthened.
“All right, George,” she said, picking up speed. “It’s time to meet your destiny.”
But George wasn’t looking at the greenhouse anymore. He stopped in his tracks, releasing a deadly growl.
Maggie tugged on his leash. “Not now, George. I’ll let you chase squirrels when we’re done, but you must behave for a little while longer.”
George’s bark heightened into something high-pitched and angry. And he wouldn’t stop running in frantic circles as if he wasn’t sure where he wanted to direct his alarm. “Stop, George!” Maggie cried, but George didn’t pay her any heed. She was so intent on trying to wrangle him that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late. When she finally turned, she ran straight into a body.
And then everything happened too fast to register. Someone tore the leash out of her hands and snatched George, squeezing the animal’s mouth shut. Maggie screamed and raced after the thief, but he was too quick. He put distance between them in seconds and was at the edge of the park, climbing into a waiting carriage, before Maggie understood what was truly happening. She broke for the carriage, but there was nothing to be done. It was gone. George was gone. She was alone.
And she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do next.