Page 55 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
As they exchanged pleasantries, Johanna glanced over the housekeeper’s shoulder to observe the hallway behind her, peering up the staircase to the floors above. She did not know why, for it was doubtful that Lord Dresday would be watching them from the landing. And yet…
Is that… a movement I see?
She narrowed her eyes, fairly sure she had seen someone step back from the upper balustrade in a furtive manner. The fine hairs on her forearms prickled, and a ripple of nerves swept through her stomach, making her insides seize up in fear. Someonehadbeen watching.
“We were hoping we might be able to speak with Miss Steele?” Nora’s voice brought Johanna’s attention away from the upper floor.
The housekeeper nodded effusively. “Certainly, Countess. However, I shall have to… sneak you in, as my Master is currently in a meeting with one of his business associates, and Miss Steele is not supposed to have company at present.” She looked fleetingly anxious. “The young Miss will be thrilled, though.”
With that, the three women headed into the building, and up the stairs to Lord Dresday’s apartments. Johanna’s gaze darted this way and that, trying to find the shadow she had seen on the landing, but perhaps they were walking directly into the abode of that selfsame shadow.
But the housekeeper said Lord Dresday is currently indisposed. How could it have been him?
She was beginning to wonder if she was allowing her imagination to get the better of her. Maybe she had only seen something because she had wanted to. Or, perhaps, Lord Dresday was not as indisposed as the housekeeper thought.
“What business does Lord Dresday partake in?” she asked abruptly.
The housekeeper glanced back over her shoulder. “Oh… I don’t trouble myself with such things. My Master’s business is his business.” There was a spikiness to her tone that seemed to want to ward off any future questions.
As the housekeeper turned back around, Nora leaned into Johanna’s ear. “He is the benefactor of several prizefighters. The gentlemen of the peerage enjoy a boxing bout as much as any common man, but they’ll never admit to it.” She snorted. “It’s forbidden by law, after all. Not that it stops anyone.”
“Is that… lucrative?” Johanna pursed her lips in slight disgust, for she knew her late husband had often enjoyed evenings at boxing matches. She could recall the scent of soured ale and tobacco smoke whenever he walked into their apartments after such a night. Indeed, after everything she had heard from Mark, the memory of that smell now made her feel rather sick.
Nora tilted her head from side to side. “If your prizefighter wins often, it’s very lucrative. If they lose constantly, it comes with great financial losses. Well, depending on how much money a benefactor has put into their fighters, that is.” She paused. “A loss can be lucrative too, if it is pre-arranged. I hear cheating of that ilk goes on sometimes.”
“What do you m—?” Johanna’s words were cut off, as the housekeeper whirled around and put a finger to her lips.
Johanna and Nora nodded obediently and followed the older woman through the reception room with the grand furnishings, to the drawing room on the right-hand side, where Johanna had first met Miss Steele. Now, however, Johanna had a greater understanding of where these fine furnishings and expensive, silkscreen wallpapers had come from. They had been bought on the backs of Lord Dresday’s prizefighters.
What would those fighters do for Lord Dresday, if he asked them to?
The thought chilled Johanna to the bone, for in her mind she pictured hulking giants instead of men, with grizzled faces and fists the size of her head, who were unafraid of pounding a man to dust if it meant gaining the approval of their benefactor. Would Lord Dresday turn such beasts loose on Mark, after what had occurred last night? Had such an order already been given?
What if it this conversation with Miss Steele makes no difference? What if Lord Dresday merely sends minions in his place, now that he is injured?
She made a silent note to ask Miss Steele how her father was faring, in the hopes of gaining some idea about the severity of the pistol shot that Kenneth had inflicted on the fellow. Of course, she did not want the Baron dead—he was only trying to protect his daughter because of what the girl had told him—but perhaps a fever would be enough to delay any action he might take by a day or two. Just enough time for Johanna and Mark to flee.
“I’ll send Miss Steele in to you directly,” the housekeeper said, leaving them in the pleasant drawing room with the soft, velvet settees.
Nora smiled. “Thank you kindly.”
The housekeeper hesitated. “If I might be so bold—would you do me the honor of signing my volumes before you leave? It would mean so much to me. Truly, you’re an inspiration to those of us who…” She trailed off, looking sheepish as she seemed to remember that Johanna was in the room.
“Worry not,” Johanna replied. “I was not born into the peerage, either.”
The housekeeper visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought I’d spoken out of turn.”
“I will sign anything you want me to,” Nora promised. “Bring me quill and ink, or whatever you like, and I’ll see it done.”
Walking out of the room with a new spring in her step, the housekeeper left Johanna and Nora to wait for Miss Steele.
“It seems Lord Dresday is doing rather well for himself,” Nora whispered, gesturing at the fine, oil-painted landscapes on the walls, and to the exquisitely crafted ceramic vases that held bountiful bouquets of fresh flowers. “I can’t say I’m surprised, considering the man who’s under his patronage.”
Johanna eyed her friend, awestruck by her seemingly boundless knowledge of all things and all people in this city. “And who might that be? I cannot pretend to know of any prizefighters, but my… husband used to speak of boxing often. Perhaps it will spark a memory.” She spat the word “husband” as though it were a filthy word and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that another would soon bear that title.
“They call him The Mastiff. You can likely imagine why, though I’ve never seen the fellow myself. Apparently, he’s a truly expert brawler who never stays down—not that he’s knocked down very often. Everyone is heralding him as the greatest boxer who ever lived, though that’s probably an exaggeration.”
Johanna shuddered. “That is a rather unpleasant moniker, is it not?”
