Page 18 of Eliza and the Duke
Mr. Carstone had stopped his preening before the audience and turned his attention to Simon. He paced from side to side on his end of the ring, watching Simon as he did so. Eliza had never seen a bare-knuckle brawl before, or any brawl really, save for one or two between neighborhood children when she was growing up. But by looking at the two of them, she really didn’t see how Mr. Carstone would have been foolish enough to challenge Simon. He had the fit but slight physique of a gentleman who spent his leisure time in genteel pursuits. Simon wasn’t a terribly large man, either, but his chest was solid and she had felt the power restrained in his arms. Mr. Carstone didn’t stand a chance.
An older man stepped to the center of the ring. He was bald with a thick neck and frame that made him appear as if he’d lived most of his life brawling. He motioned to both men and they stepped over to join him. He introduced them both, yelling out their names to the same cheers and jeers as earlier. Then he started speaking only to them. She had no idea what he was saying to them—the rules of the fight, perhaps? This was followed by the men shaking hands as well as they could, considering both men’s hands were wrapped with some sort of batting that left only their fingers free. They each retreated to their side. Lord Leigh was on the floor now, but she could seethe top of his head, as if he stood upon a stool, and he was talking to Simon, who nodded. A bell rang and the match started.
The men paced in a circle, the hands of a clock careful to face each other. Simon indicated with his hands that Mr. Carstone should come to him, but the man didn’t move forward. For the first time that night, Eliza thought she might have caught a glimpse of fear in Mr. Carstone’s face. Perhaps he now realized what challenging Simon really meant—certain defeat in front of hundreds of witnesses. To his credit, he didn’t back away. She could see that Simon was losing his patience. He indicated the man should charge, but Mr. Carstone held his ground. Simon yelled something to him, but it was swallowed by the spectators before it reached her.
Finally, Simon charged him. The man backed up, eliciting a chorus of boos from the crowd. Simon caught him against the ropes and landed the first punch right in his stomach. Mr. Carstone doubled over but recovered himself before Simon could do more damage, although Eliza would have bet anything that Simon was holding back. He’d prefer sport over annihilation.
The attack seemed to make Mr. Carstone’s fear turn to ire. He charged Simon and they both staggered across the ring in a sort of bear hug until Simon was pressed against the ropes on the other side. Mr. Carstone pummeled him with a series of punches that had him moving like an automaton, each blow timed perfectly after the one before it to not allow Simon to retaliate. Simon rolled away from him, however, and the man lost his balance and fell forward. Simon tugged his shoulder and turned him around and hit him square across his jaw.
They exchanged blows for a while, continuing to make circles around the ring. Even from as far away as she was,Eliza could tell that Mr. Carstone was breathing fast, but Simon still seemed fresh. A bell rang and the men retreated to their corners. The pause lasted for a minute or so before the bell brought them both to their feet.
This time his opponent seemed to approach with renewed vigor. He ran over yelling and dealt a hard blow to Simon’s jaw. Everyone screamed like mad and Simon stumbled backward. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Eliza’s hands tightened into hard fists that had her nails digging into her palm. She didn’t like to see him like this.
He recovered quickly and returned the blow and added another for good measure, but he retreated again. He was clearly toying with the man and she didn’t understand why. When Mr. Carstone hit with his full strength, Eliza was convinced that Simon held back.
“Why is he doing that? He could finish the thing now if he wanted,” she said to Lord David.
“Good eye.” He nodded in approval. “If he finishes too quickly, everyone will be upset. They came for a good show and he gives them one. It’s why they pay so much to see him.”
Eliza took in the people around her. They were all mesmerized by the drama playing out before them. It was a drama, she realized. It was sport set to theater. She hoped Simon received a portion of the ticket sales.
Even with the show, it was clear that Mr. Carstone wasn’t up to snuff. The fight finished after another couple minutes of back-and-forth, until Simon finally landed a blow that knocked Carstone to the ground. He was moving, but he didn’t get back up before the official-looking man called a halt to the game and announced Simon as the winner.
A rumble of applause and cheers went up that seemed to vibrate the entire building. Simon had won. Despite that it hadbeen a foregone conclusion, satisfaction filled her, bringing with it an energy that reminded her of why she had come. The fight was icing on the cake. She had come to see Simon.
“Will you take us back to see him?” she asked Lord David.
He frowned. “That’s not wise.”
None of this night had been wise. “If you don’t take us, then I’ll find a way to go back there myself, and my sister, being a devoted and kind sort, will feel obligated to accompany me. I thought I would offer you the opportunity to help.”
He glanced at Jenny as if to ask,Is she always like this?Jenny laughed and laced her arms with Eliza’s. “Come, let us go talk to Mr. Cavell.”
They made their way through the sea of people to the doors where the fighters had entered, and Lord David followed them.
Ten
The brawl had gone exactlyas Simon had planned it. Carstone was an overly pompous dandy who had no business challenging anyone in the ring besides other overly pompous dandies. Simon didn’t mind it, though. It had earned him a tidy sum that he could put aside, assuming Brody kept his word and released him from his debt after the grittier fight Brody was arranging.
He had been swarmed by congratulations and celebrations since the fight ended. Leigh, Rothschild, and Devonworth had only just left, and he had ensconced himself in the small room off the service corridor that led to the gymnasium. It was a changing room for members who exercised in the gymnasium. The walls were lined with cupboards and shelves, and benches were scattered throughout the room. Simon planned to make use of the shower bath in the back corner before going out to join in the victory celebration. He peeled off his sweat-stained shirt and set about unwrapping the bindings from his hands. Aside from a couple of nicks on his face and a few knuckles,he hadn’t been bloodied. His still-tender ribs were already starting to ache; nothing a bit of whisky wouldn’t solve.
Finished with the batten, he tugged at the lacing on the front of his breeches, but a knock on the door halted his progress. Muttering a curse at the interruption, he turned off the water and made his way to the door. He never expected to see Eliza Bloody Dove standing there looking at him with her wide and innocent eyes and her absurdly pretty face.
“Wot the hell—?” he started to ask but then slammed the door shut. He had no time to deal with her tonight. He turned to go back to his grooming, but a terrible thought stopped him cold. What if someone saw her out there and started questioning why the American was sniffing around his dressing room? What if they thought he’d compromised her? He’d lose his job. Or worse, to save herself she might very well be forced to share the secret she hadn’t yet told.Fuck.
He opened the door and she still stood there, though she was frowning this time. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her none too gently into the room and slammed the door behind her, locking it for good measure. He pressed his hands into the door on either side of her, caging her in. She sputtered, momentarily taken aback. He could kiss her now, hard. Make her wish she’d never knocked on his door. Touch her in ways that would offend her and send her running away from him for good.
He took her head into his hand to do that, his fingers digging into the glossy brown hair piled at the nape of her neck. But he couldn’t. The dumbstruck haze in her eyes faded into the sweet honeyed look of trust mixed with something like respect that she sometimes got when she looked at him. They were precious things that he couldn’t take from her. “Someone should take ye over their knee and give ye a good spanking,” he growled.
“Are you volunteering for the task, Mr. Cavell?” She blinked up at him.
God, he’d like to. “Wot are ye doin’ here, Miss Dove?”
“Your accent has come out of hiding, I see.”
He wanted to wipe the smirk off her face. The problem was, the only way he could think to do that was to kiss her. Since it couldn’t be rough, it would be soft and wet and lead to things that were out of the question. He turned to stalk away from her, taking several deep breaths until he had calmed down enough to speak again. “What do you want with me, girl? You shouldn’t be here. You could get me into a lot of trouble.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the door, uncertainty reflected in her face. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. I took precautions. Everyone thinks you’re changing and alone.” He wasn’t reassured by that, a state of events she must have suspected, because she came over to him and put her hand on his arm. “No one saw me come in, except for Jenny and Lord David—”
