Page 84 of Snapdragons
No. He refused to believe that.
“How soon do you anticipate having these additional funds?”
“At the end of the fair,” he said. “And I don’t know how long the property I have my eye on will be available. If I hesitate, it might be gone for good.”
She nodded. “Then, there is not much time for you to move forward.”
“Not much at all.”
“I haven’t much either.” She met his eye as they slowed theirforward progression. “Fully expecting to be married and settling at Fairfield, there is a stallion for sale that I offered on so I can begin my horse-breeding endeavors in earnest. The seller won’t hold the animal much longer, but the bank will not extend credit to an unmarried lady.”
There were even more difficulties than he’d realized.
Penelope looked up at him once more. “Where will the money you are soon to receive be coming from? I can’t imagine your family is now so pleased with you that they are tossing funds in your direction.”
She deserved to know the entirety of it, so there was little point skirting the question.
“There is a fight being held the day after the fair,” he said.
“And you mean to wager on the outcome? That seems very risky.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a betting man.”
“How can you possibly earn money from it?” Before he could answer, understanding dawned on her face. “You are not to be one of the spectators but one of the pugilists.”
“I felt that you ought to know that as well, ought to know everything so you could decide if I were still to your liking.”
“But it is my understanding that gentlemen don’t participate in fights for purses or prize money.”
“Don’tandaren’t supposed toare two very different things.” He would do best to make his explanation quickly so she could begin whatever pleading or objection or disapproval she meant to invoke. “I’ve been fighting for years under the pseudonym the Cornish Duke. It’s how I’ve earned most of the money I am putting toward my eventual land. I’m not the best pugilist in the kingdom, but I am quite good. I’ve won far more often than I have lost.”
“Who are you fighting this time?” It wasn’t a question asked in approval or disapproval. All Niles could make out was curiosityand concern.
“Sam Martin. He is known as the Bath Butcher.”
“Because he originally worked as a butcher?”
He was relatively certain Martin’s moniker had begun as a nod to a former profession, but it certainly wasn’t the reason for it any longer. “It is, at least now, a reference to his abilities in the pugilists’ ring.”
“You could get hurt.”
“Neither competitor usually ends a bout without at least some degree of injury.”
She stood beside Midnight, watching Niles. “Could you getmorethan hurt?”
“It is rare, but people have died or been permanently impaired.” He held himself at the ready for a barrage of denouncements.
“Winning this prize would allow you to buy the land you need to live your dream?”
“The losing purse will put me far closer,” he said. “The winning purse, which is very unlikely to be mine, would see me able to purchase that land immediatelyandhave more financial freedom than my current income allows.”
“Then, Niles, I will say to you what a wise person once said to me.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to hit something. I will add that you need to hit someone,and you need to do so as expertly as possible.”
“Because you don’t want me to get hurt?”
