Page 50 of Eliza and the Duke
“Yes, very charming.” Simon felt like a boy who’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. What was happening between them must have been obvious.
“I’m grateful you appreciate our Miss Eliza. Have you decided to court her?”
“I’m aware of the stipulations of her inheritance. I don’t fulfill those particular requirements.”
The man looked at him, seeing far more than Simon was comfortable with, but he’d just been with Eliza. She was so very good at breaking down his shields, and he hadn’t yet had time to build them back.
Rothschild considered him a moment and then asked, “You don’t think she’d choose you over her inheritance?”
It was almost cruel the way he said it, though he likely didn’t mean it to be. “Choice is a luxury some of us don’t have.”
“Touché, Cavell.” The duke inclined his head, concedingthe point. “It was wrong of me to presume that you hadn’t asked her.”
That is very much what Eliza herself had said. But it would be foolhardy and selfish to put her in that position. Why would she choose him and an uncertain future when she could have her every need met? Except Mainwaring wouldn’t fulfill her needs.
He shook his head to physically stop those thoughts. Until this last brawl was finished, he had nothing to offer her, not even himself. He wasn’t free.
“Well, you could always carry on with her after the wedding.”
Simon couldn’t imagine sharing her with Mainwaring. The idea made him so angry that he wished they were in the brawling ring instead of Leigh’s home.
Rothschild smiled, and Simon didn’t know if he’d been intentionally provoking him. “Come, let us get you a drink stronger than champagne.” He put his arm around Simon and led him to the drawing room.
Twenty-Six
The prizefight was taking placein a large brick warehouse near the docks. The air smelled of old fish and decay, the sort of stench that constantly clung to the Thames. Despite the fact that she and Simon had no future—she had discussed this ad nauseam with Jenny and they had both concluded it was true—and Eliza had promised him that she wouldn’t go back to Whitechapel, she could notnotgo to his brawl.
Eliza had left Cora’s home a couple hours earlier. She had known the fight was tonight, but not the time nor the precise location beyond the fact that it would be in Whitechapel. Her plan had been to get as close to the area as a hansom would take her and then find her way on foot. She reasoned that a lot of people would be attending, so it wouldn’t be difficult to find.
Happily, she needn’t have worried. Mr. Dunn had fallen into step behind her not long after she had left to go to the nearest hansom stand. Not content to let the foolishness play out, Eliza had turned to confront him.
“Mr. Dunn, I am both surprised and unsurprised to see you here.”
He had grinned with a hint of sheepishness about himself. “Simon asked me to come because he knew you would likely try to attend the brawl.”
“Then you’ve come to stop me?”
“That was Simon’s intention, but I’ve a mind of my own.”
Her interest piqued, she had asked, “Then what do you intend?”
His smile had widened. “I reckon a man should have the woman he loves at his side on an evening such as this.”
She had been too stunned to do anything but fall in stride beside him as he led her to a hansom. Now they were at the fight together and she was very thankful for his presence.
A lump had lodged itself in her stomach ever since she had seen Simon at the wedding breakfast about a week ago. It had only increased in intensity as the days wore on. She feared that Brody would do something underhanded and Simon would have no one there to help him. Not that she could be much help, but she could at least witness the crime if one were to happen.
This irrational fear had only worsened when Cora and Devonworth had left for Italy a couple of days after the wedding. They had received a note that Devonworth’s younger brother—Mainwaring’s travel companion—had found himself in trouble with the authorities in Rome and they’d gone to retrieve him. That only meant that Mainwaring would be returning early. That meant her wedding to him would happen sooner rather than later.
Both combined was enough to put her off food for days. She simply had to see Simon again and assure herself that he made it through this.
“Stay near to me now, bird.” Mr. Dunn’s rough voice was low enough that it only reached her ears, she hoped. Some of the men near them looked as if they might take it up as a personal challenge.
She tightened her grip on his arm and followed his weaving through the crowd of men, women, and children who were here to watch the fight. Most of them were honest, hardworking people. The men were most likely dockworkers and laborers. The women she imagined worked at the nearby match factory, the shops, and the alleys of Whitechapel. Children darted through the crowd in packs.
Brody must have men here, too, and the brawler from Devil’s Acre would have brought some. They would be here to cause mayhem if the possibility presented itself. Eliza had minded Simon’s warning about her purse and kept a little drawstring pouch in her bodice this time so that it couldn’t be easily nicked.
The brawl hadn’t started yet, but the area around the warehouse was already busy and crawling with people hoping to get inside. Hawkers worked their way through the crowd selling everything from meat pies to little dolls made from flour sacks that were meant to be the prizefighters. Their yells, intended to be heard above the din of the crowd, only added to the feeling of chaos. This wasn’t at all like the fight at Montague Club.
