Page 68 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

“If you want to break things off because I said we were ill-matched for marriage, I understand,” he said stiffly, as soon as the door was closed. “But I do expect the courtesy of actually being told so, rather than this sudden absence and ignoring of my messages.”

“That's not it,” she said quickly.

“Then what? Because I had taken you for a professional, but this behaviour is making me rethink that assumption.”

She took a deep breath. “You’re right. I was unprofessional in ignoring you. But the thing is, I’m in some small amount of personal trouble. And the one person I thought might be able to help just walked away, in no small part because of the perception that I was choosing you and your lifestyle over what they could offer me instead. I’m sorry for not coming to your last party. I’m normally much more reliable.”

“Personal trouble,” he repeated. “Are you alright? I won't pry, but if there’s anything I can do—”

Shaking her head, she brushed aside a rogue tear, angry with herself for letting it slip. “I’m fine, really, and no, I don’t think there's anything anyone can do, but I’ll get it sorted. In any case, it's no excuse for my lapse in professionalism.”

His frown deepened, sharp eyes scanning her as if trying to work out what exactly was wrong, or, more likely, whether she was being honest. When he opened his mouth, she cut him off without giving him the chance for a single word.

“Have you come to break off our arrangement, then? I understand completely. I can introduce you to the other girls, ifyou’d like a replacement. Running through a string of showgirls should work wonders for your reputation, in fact.”

“I didn't come here to end anything,” said Appleton, looking wholly wrong-footed by Deepa's speech. “I came to make sure you were alright, firstly, and then to ask whether you were still interested in working with me, or if I should take your silence as an answer in itself. I understand that there are extenuating circumstances at play, and I won’t hold them against you. You’re well-liked; I still believe you’re the best person to help me. I would like to continue things as they were, provided you actually communicate with me in the future about any complications that might arise.” He paused. “I’m not unreasonable,” he said in a quieter voice. “We’ve all had bad days. We’re only human.”

“Of course,” Deepa said, through her surprise. “Communication. I can do that.”

He nodded, still eyeing her warily. “If I may overstep for just a moment to offer some advice.”

“On what matter?”

“Your friend. If their leaving was truly because you would choose my lifestyle over theirs, you should perhaps reconsider your stance.”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me you would give up your estate, your mansion, your inheritance, and your horses, and trade it all in for a modest little life in the city?” Deepa asked incredulously.

With staggering bluntness, Appleton said, “You haven’t got any of those things. No one can ask you to give up what you don’t have.”

With a short nod, he removed himself from her path, leaving Deepa to digest that unwelcome truth.

???

They arrived late to the fight, which was unsurprising, given that Deepa hadn't planned to go at all. It was taking place at the gym where Roz trained, and when they slipped through the doors to join the crowd, the first round was already underway. The air was sharp with sweat and heavy with the sound of feet against the mats, and boxing gloves connecting with flesh and muscle.

Alight with nerves, it wasn't until Deepa had watched the fight for a full twenty seconds, standing on a crate at the back of the crowd to see above the other onlookers’ heads, that she realised Roz was losing.

“Did she take the deal?” Aaliyah asked in a whisper.

Numbly, Deepa shook her head, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “She wouldn’t.”

“Maybe she's doing it as a gesture,” Jasmine suggested uncertainly. “To prove she’s serious about you?”

“Not without firing her manager first.”

The man was ringside, looking far too pleased with himself to have been let go.

Roz had said she didn't mind losing to a better opponent, but in that case, her manager wouldn’t have asked her to throw the fight in the first place. The other fighter looked big and strong, but she was nothing spectacular. Deepa didn't know much about boxing, but she still would have bet on Roz.

And she’d have lost her money, because Roz was clearly struggling.

When her opponent landed a solid hit to her ribs, Roz staggered back. Angry red marks marred her arms where she’d tried to block more of the same. Some were already beginning to purple, bruises spreading under the skin like stones under the river’s surface.

With the next strike, Deepa covered her mouth with one hand, swallowing a cry. “Her manager wanted her to go down in the second,” she said through her fingers.

“It looks like she might not have a choice.” Aaliyah’s tone was light but she looked concerned.

Deepa shook her head. “She’ll stay up out of spite.”

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