Page 2 of The Beauty and the Boxer
“Excuse me?” she said surprised. “Why evernot?”
“Mr. Archer is in a terrible mood thismorning, and, while you were mentioned on his list of appointmentsthis morning, I’m afraid he has cancelled all his meetings and willnot be seeing anyone.” He paused before adding. “Especially alady.”
Meredith was becoming annoyed. She hadn’ttaken her day off to come into the city of Bristol, ruin herfavorite bonnet and lace collar just to be pushed out because JackArcher was in a poor mood. Lifting her chin, she tried to behave injust the sort of way he believed women of her social circle did.Entitled. She walked past the portly gentleman and headed straightfor the curved staircase that sat at the back of the hallway.
“My lady—”
“You’ll forgive me, Mr…”
“Mr. Portage,” he said, following her.“Really, my lady, I must insist—”
“Mr. Portage, I’ve business to attend to andI shan’t take too much of Mr. Archer’s time. I’m sure he’ll have notrouble honoring our appointment.”
She began to climb the steps.
“Miss Taylor, he is not a man to be trifledwith,” Mr. Portage said as he followed her up the staircase. “Whenhe’s in one of his moods, he cannot be tamed.”
“Tamed? You make him sound like some sortof—” she nearly saidbeast, but shook her head, refusing tocall him that name that everyone used behind his back. “Well, likesome sort of disgruntled child.”
“Portage!”A masculine voice bellowedfrom somewhere above them, causing them both to pause on thestaircase momentarily, glancing up.
“Oh, dear,” the man said, pressing pasther.
Meredith frowned as she watched the man movequicker than she had ever expected him to as he reached the landingabove them. Had that been Jack Archer who bellowed? That wasn’tvery gentlemanly. Surely, he could better behave himself thanshouting at his employees, she thought as she moved down thehallway to the large, wooden door that stood ajar.
“—and if those bastards in Brighton thinkthey can come down here and try to renege on that contract, theycan bloody well—”
Meredith rounded the corner of the officedoor as she leaned forward, peering into the room. Jack Archerstood behind his desk, with his wavy, tawny colored hair, darkbrows and suspicious eyes that suddenly flickered to her.
He stoppedshouting.
Jack had probably been considered veryattractive before receiving the rather famous scar that ran alongthe side of his right cheek. It was because of that scar that hehad been nicknamed the Beast of Burnwall, but heaven help Meredithif her pulse didn’t quicken as she saw him. His nose had beenbroken at least twice as it curved ever so slightly to the left.His teeth were straight and white and though she had never seen himsmile, she would almost guarantee it would be a striking one.
He was without a jacket and vest as heglared up at her, leaning over his desk. His shirtsleeves rolled upover his muscular forearms and she couldn’t help but stare.
Meredith swallowed hard.
Her eyes moved up to his as she feltsuddenly warm beneath his blistering gaze. The scar she had oftentried to avoid looking at was highlighted against the dark stubblethat had covered his face. Had he not shaved this morning?
What a terribly intimate thing to think,Meredith thought as she stared into his dark eyes.
“Miss Taylor,” he said deliberately, histone annoyed, but not nearly as angry as before. “I hadn’t expectedto see you this morning.”
“Mr. Archer,” she said, her tone higher thanshe would have liked it. “Unfortunately, I only have one day off totake care of my personal affairs and as Mr. Archer, your brother,set this meeting up, I couldn’t in good conscience leave until ittook place.”
The corner of his full mouth pulled up foran instant, a mocking smirk that shone only briefly on his facebefore melting away.
“Because your business is so pressing?” heasked, condescendingly.
Meredith squinted her eyes.
“To me it is, yes. I’m sure it is no morepressing than yours.”
He made no move, but Meredith had thedistinct impression that he enjoyed her quip. He was an intensesort of man, one Meredith had never dealt with before. She hadgrown up in the country and had only been approached by calm,moderate gentlemen, not businessmen or former boxers, like him.None of the men Meredith knew had ever led a life like the one JackArcher had.
“Leave, Portage,” he said and the secretaryturned on his heel. “And make sure those papers go out.”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Portage said, closing thedoor behind him as he left.
