Chapter Six
Henley squeezed his hands as he walked away, the feeling and sensation of her hand in his—even for that fleeting moment—lingering with him.
Henley knew his brother’s intentions; he had made them abundantly clear last night.
But he could not stand lamely by and not try.
Not when he knew what was at risk. Lady Anna’s heart would certainly be broken if given to his brother.
Frustration waged war against anger within him as he considered his brother’s words from the night before.
Lady Devon had been overwhelmingly approving of the earl’s assumed suit of Lady Anna.
Her title and her feminine charms were enough of an enticement to make a bound marriage.
And knowing Lady Anna through his sister’s friendship, he knew a love match was what Lady Anna coveted above all other things.
“She is lovely to be sure, and a close friend of your sister. Love takes time, but I believe she’ll find her way into your heart soon enough,” their mother had stated, patting Edwin’s knee approvingly.
“She will know of my approval; that will be enough, will it not? And she will be the perfect countess. I must say this was a rather productive party—I didn’t even need to pay serious court.”
“But you will,” Lady Devon scolded quickly. “Lady Anna will have several suitors—”
“I’ll play the part, you needn’t worry.” He flicked a piece of lint from his coat. “I’m quite capable, Mother. Experienced, even.”
At this, their mother batted a gloved hand at him. “There will be no experience needed, my son. She’s not one of your other ladies.”
“Mother! I can’t believe you even said that.”
“I can,” Pere replied, then continued her study of the rain on the carriage window.
Their mother sighed. “Heathens, all of you.”
“You’re the one that mentioned—”
“Hush. Be respectable and don’t cause a scandal.” At this, Henley noted the way her back stiffened and she slid a glance in his direction.
The weight of last year’s scandal pressed on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
He fought against the emotion and pasted an indifferent expression on his face. “There’s nothing to be concerned over. It will be a quick courtship, a proper wedding, and utterly boring, if you ask me. But that’s exactly what you want, is it not, Mother? Boring and proper?”
“Yes,” their mother clipped, then sighed. “The sooner, the better. Good news cancels out scandal quicker than anything else.” She added, “Thankfully, last year’s sordid tale hasn’t seemed to ruin your charm, Edwin. Thank heaven for small favors.” She flicked her wrist.
“Now that it’s settled, I’ll be taking my leave once we arrive.”
“So soon?” Henley asked, a tone of derision evident.
“You may enjoy the rigors of social pandering, but I have other activities in mind.” He tugged on his cravat slightly.
“I’ll pretend I hear nothing,” Lady Devon replied tersely.
“I thought you were about to be married, right and tight? Isn’t that this whole conversation’s subject matter?”
“And here is where your young inexperience is glaringly obvious, brother. For one has nothing to do with the other.”
“Again, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Lady Devon said as she leaned against the soft cushion of the carriage and closed her eyes.
Henley resisted the urge to push his brother further. They were in a confined carriage, after all, and no good would come of his attempt to correct his wayward brother’s behavior.
As if all of his earlier efforts had amounted to any benefit. Henley shifted in his seat; the carriage ride couldn’t end soon enough. The whole thing made his stomach twist. Lady Anna deserved more than an indifferent and titled husband who would seek his pleasure elsewhere.
She deserved devotion, at the very least.
Love at the most.
Pulling his attention back to the present, he stopped revisiting the previous night’s conversation in his mind. He paced the parlor as he considered the situation.
“Are you still here?” Edwin’s voice broke through Henley’s musings.
“Present and accounted for. Unlike someone else who disappeared at the first opportunity last night.” Henley quirked a brow at his brother, then took a seat, lifting his forgotten teacup.
He needed his hands to be occupied—it was safer, for Edwin at least.
Edwin’s eyes narrowed before he shifted into a jolly, lopsided grin. “I had pressing matters to attend to.”
Henley rolled his eyes, throwing propriety to the wind. “Oh, really? Were those pressing matters somewhere in your lower half?”
Edwin shrugged. “Quite possibly. But I assure you the pressure is no longer present. Just say the word, brother, and I will connect you with all of the right people—feminine, of course. Unless your taste goes the other direction, which would explain why you were always present at the boxing clubs where men were always half-cloaked.”
Henley shook his head. “You cannot bait me that easily, brother.”
“Is that not so? Isn’t baiting you exactly what got our family into last year’s situation? Or is my memory mistaken?” Edwin walked lazily into the parlor, then lifted the last biscuit from the tray and ate it slowly.
Henley clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and continued. “While I am certain I will never outlive my mistakes, I can assure you, as well as everyone else who wishes to hear my side of the tale, that no one was informed—least of all me—of my opponent’s condition. I would have—”
“Wouldn’t have mattered if you would’ve ever. The fact is he died, and it was after facing you. So, with that, do you really want to carry on this type of conversation? Do you truly want to point the finger at my activities of last night? I think not.” Edwin dusted his fingers of the crumbs.
Henley took a breath. “If you are to be married soon, I’d think that your evenings visiting the demimonde will be coming to a close.” Henley watched his brother’s expression grow in suspicion.
“What is it with your obsession concerning my activities? Hen, I am not under your authority, nor do I wish to be lectured by you. Even though I am the elder brother, one would think that you were at least a decade older than me the way you were acting. Leave me be, ignore my behavior, and turn a blind eye. I am not going to change, least of all change because of your badgering me incessantly. I will do what I want, with whom I want, whenever I want. And there is absolutely nothing you can say that will shame me into changing,” Edwin answered, then grinned unrepentantly.
Edwin smacked his brother on the shoulder. “Now that we have gotten all of that out of the way, I must take my leave. I have a lovely English flower to pick—I mean court too—and I would rather not smell like last night’s brandy when I do as such.”
Edwin moved past Henley, shoving his shoulder ever so slightly.
Henley glanced over his shoulder, then turned.
“I would exercise caution as you make your way upstairs. Our sister has a guest, and I do not wish for her to see you in such a state. For certainly, it would create more questions than you wish to answer. Unless you really are full of as much bravado as you claim. And if that be the case, then I’ll just follow you and wait for all of the fireworks and the expression to flicker across her face when she sees that you were in the same kit as last night. ” Henley threw the gauntlet.
Edwin turned and glanced at his brother. “For once, your words actually are helpful. Never thought I would see the day, quite honestly. I’ll take the back stairs, thanks for the tip.”
Henley watched as his brother adjusted his course and took the servants’ stairs up toward his room.
Biting a little curse, he wondered if it would be completely dishonorable to somehow arrange for Lady Anna to run into his wayward and clearly disheveled brother.
And while it seemed like an easy-fix situation, he was also certain his brother would be able to charm his way out of it.
No, it would be better for her to find out the truth on her own terms—not from some orchestrated scheme.
And she would find out. A leopard did not change its spots, and Edwin would not change.
Certainly, she would see it before they said their vows?
He would make sure of it. One way or another.
And he would not have to orchestrate an elaborate way for it to happen.
He was certain Edwin would tie his own noose. Henley would see to it.
As his brother disappeared, Henley’s hands itched to make contact with something.
He hadn’t darkened the door of the boxing gym since the news had arrived a little over a year ago.
His mother had forbidden him to continue in the one sport that had given him control—that had given him an identity outside of his brother’s shadow.
And never before had he wanted to return to the boxing ring so badly as he did in this moment.
Squeezing his hands, he felt the skin tighten across his knuckles.
Glancing down, he saw the way the skin puckered with the scars.
Heart pounding, he needed an outlet—some sort of activity that would wash this rage through him and make it into something more productive where he could sweat it out versus bottle it up.
Decision made, he quickly took the stairs to his rooms and called for his valet.
His mother’s ultimatum be hanged; he needed somewhere he could breathe.
So, in quick, short work, he changed his clothes, packed a bag, and called for his horse.
The decision made, the weight started to lift off of his chest, and rather than his hands itching to hit something, they vibrated with an excitement that had been cold for far too long.
As he walked into the dark gym, the smell of sweat and dried blood, of leather and hard work, assaulted him, making him feel more at home than he had in any other environment.
A few of the men paused as he walked into the room—one nodded, another simply raised a gloved hand.
Thankful for the lack of fanfare, he dropped his bag and began to take out his gloves.
The worn leather was smooth under his hands as he slid his fingers in and began to tie.
Bracing each glove against itself, he pounded a few times, the pressure releasing some of the tension within him like a teapot releasing steam.
Heart pounding in an elated rhythm, he made his way over to a vacant bag and took position.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and began the rhythmic pounding.
With each release of force from his muscles, his body relaxed, entered that rhythm that had given him an outlet, but it also restored his sanity.
Oh, how he missed this. As if a piece of himself was finally back home.
He continued on—right hook, undercut, undercut, right hook.
He did each rhythm and move with lethal precision.
He worked until the sweat poured off him, until he could not think of anything else but the bag in front of him, until his body was spent, until his mind was quiet, and the demons went back into the quiet recesses of his mind.
Exhausted, and yet somehow more rested than he had felt in a year, he slowly lowered his gloves. It was enough, for now.