Page 26 of The Beauty and the Boxer
Bishop was an old boxing colleague of Jack’swho had retired. He worked at the club giving lessons to gentlemenwho hoped to become more proficient in their pugilistic ways, andhelped Jack coach one or two lads that showed promise. FranklinWeathers was that someone.
“Is your jaw made of iron?” the youth asked.“I floored Anthony Batten with that same strike yesterday!”
Franklin lunged forward, trying to landanother punch. Jack blocked him and landed his fist against theyoung man’s side. He let out a blistering curse and Jack moved up,hitting him two more times before putting out his gloved hands tosteady the man’s shoulders.
“Pay attention and don’t take stupid shots,”Jack ordered, stepping back once again to give the man room.
It seemed Franklin would not listen as hisannoyance bloomed into anger. Jack knew the instant he had lost theyoung man’s concentration and stood up, pulling off his gloves. Hecouldn’t teach an angry student.
“Get out of here. You’re done.”
“I am not!”
“You’re making poor choices,” Jack said,throwing one glove, then the other out of the pugilist ring. A mannamed Stone caught them. “You’ve been at it all morning. You’retired.”
Franklin didn’t seem to care about what Jackhad to say and instead dove forward for another attack. In ablistering quick move, Jack sidestepped him and punched him squarein the nose, knocking Franklin to the floor.
Groaning and holding his face as he rolledon his back, Jack came forward.
“Don’t let your anger dictate yourstrategy,” he said. “You’ll get killed otherwise.”
“You broke my bloody nose!”
“Aye, and you deserved it. Now take the restof the day off. You’re not ready.”
“I have a fight coming up!” Franklin saidthrough his gloves. “I have to train.”
“No, what you need to do it focus or thenext match you have will be your last. Now go clean up.” Jack movedaround the room, noting several other fighters who had stoppedtheir hand and foot work to watch. The door to the pugilist roomthat sat at the back of the gentlemen’s club, Canterbury’s, openedas a few others came in to test their skills.
As the other fighters returned to theirwork, a dark-haired man came up to the ring.
“Stone,” Jack said.
“Aye, Mr. Archer?”
“Don’t let him in this ring for the rest ofthe week,” he said, before facing Franklin. “And you, take a walk.Around the city. Several times.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re too winded for a man your age. Doit.”
Franklin glared up at him before conceding.He nodded and Jack held out his hand. The young man took it andcame up to his feet. They both swung out of the ring. Jack grabbeda length of towel and wiped the sweat off his forehead, neck, andchest as the door that led to the front rooms of Canterbury’sopened again. Turning, he saw Simon enter, dressed in properclothes. Confused as to why he wouldn’t be in his fighting costume,Jack threw the towel over his shoulder and went over to him.
“Jack,” Simon began, stepping around a pairof sparring partners. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to rescheduleour fight.”
“Why?”
A young man carrying a bucket of clean,soapy water came up between Jack and Simon. He placed it on a stooland Jack nodded his thanks.
“Wouldn’t you know it, on the way to town wecrossed paths with the Baron de Greaves.”
“And?” Jack asked as he began to spongewater around his neck and chest.
“And he’s married to the baroness. The horsebreeder I was telling you about,” Simon said as Jack scrubbed hisfingers against his scalp, dipping the sponge back into the bucket.“They’re actually in Bristol to meet with Lord Bixby about studdingout one of his thoroughbreds. It was pure chance to run into them,and they’ve invited us to visit with them at Lord Bixby’s right nowand Sarah is insisting on going.”
“Very well,” Jack said, trying to keep thedisappointment out of his voice as he dried himself off withanother clean length of towel. “We’ll reschedule for nextweek.”
“Brilliant. Ah,” Simon paused, twistingabout, “since Sarah and I are accompanying the Baron and Baronessto Lord Bixby’s, would you mind escorting Meredith home?”
