Page 34 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“I’m sure you are correct, and from our last council meeting, things truly are in hand,” Kristoff said.
Marc nodded.
The others had all climbed into one of two carriages. He and Kristoff stepped into the second, and they set off.
When they arrived, Jackson’s was overly crowded. It seemed several of the gentlemen in attendance were involved in some sort of dispute and, instead of resorting to pistols at dawn, had challenged each other to a gentlemen’s fight.
Loud cheers broke out from a corner where one fight was well underway.
“Stay away from her. Fair is fair. You lost.” The apparent winner stood over the losing man, who looked exhausted and in every way about to topple to the ground. But then he surprised them all and sent his fist into the taller man’s gut and then right into his nose.
With new energy, they continued fighting.
“Impressive.” Marc nodded in their direction.
Lord Carmine snorted. “But their situation is not. The woman loves the taller brute there, but he’s barely a baron. The smaller man loves the woman, so he says, and he is her father’s choice. He’s a destitute earl. Her dowry is immense, and who’s to say which would make the best man?” His haughty voice grated, but Marc found the whole situation intriguing. “And the woman chooses the taller, the baron?”
Lord Carmine smirked. “Yes, I believe so. I have money on this fight.”
“You chose the baron?” Marc had to commend the shorter and smaller man for attempting such an unmatched fight.
“No, that scrawny earl. Love can do powerful things to a man. Watch.”
They did watch, and sure enough, the earl was swinging and moving at the baron with such a new force that they were soon at the edge of the corner, with no recourse. He hit the baron enough times that the match ended and the smaller man came out the victor.
Lord Carmine nodded in Marc’s direction and went to congratulate the man.
Marc shifted and then struggled against the fit of his coat. “Brothers, whom shall we challenge?”
“How about a short match between us?” Kristoff suggested.
Marc’s eyebrow rose at the subtle challenge. “Are you hoping to at last best me, Brother?”
Kristoff smirked. “I have bested you. You just refused to accept the win.”
“Because it was not a true win. But no matter.” He bounced on his toes. “Let us decide things once and for all.”
“Excellent.”
They took off their jackets and moved to an open, squared-off space. Henri and Bartholomew joined them. As Lord Carmine sauntered over, others followed as well, and they soon had a rather impressive audience. Marc tried to ignore them as he and Kristoff stretched their arms and prepared for their match.
Lord Carmine folded his arms. “Oh, is this a fight for the crown of Oldenburg?”
“No, that was Prince Hayes, remember?” a man Marc had never seen before responded.
A man of skin and bones joined the spectators. “I’ve got my money on Prince Marc. He’s the toughest.”
“On the ladies, you mean.” The first man stepped closer.
They snickered.
And Marc couldn’t help but smile. He bowed to them all with hands out, and they cheered.
But Kristoff shook his head. “What is this? You will all cheer for Prince Marc? Who is the most fun? Me or him?”
Lord Carmine nodded. “You seem fun, Prince Kristoff, but you can’t laugh your way through a fight.”
Their good-natured ribbing made the whole experience more enjoyable.
