Page 54 of The Beauty and the Boxer
“Cor! Go on. She’s the most damnedsought-after courtesan in the city,” he balked. “Why would she havehim? He barely says anything.”
“The hero bit, I assume. Supposedly he saveda whole regiment from certain death,” the other man said, trying tosound bored but only sounded miffed. “But it doesn’t matter. Idoubt the good sir would be seeking a wife when he’s got that birdin bed.”
“Well, that never stopped any man before,”the second man said, laughing as the other joined in.
Jack’s jaw was set as he gripped the cuestick in his fists, threatening to snap it in half. The idea thatMeredith would be married to a man that would turn around and bedanother woman made his blood boil. How could anyone even dreamabout going off to toss another woman’s skirts up when they hadMeredith?
He needed to be away from this room,deciding that he had heard enough. Placing the nearly broken cuestick back in its rack, he left without issue. It wasn’t even hisbusiness if this Sir Kent was searching for a wife, but what washis business was how Meredith would be affected. She wasn’t thetype of woman who would be content knowing her husband had amistress. He knew she would be hurt by such an arrangement and itmade him loathe these peers even more so.
For people who were always preaching aboutmorality and sin, they certainly didn’t care if they were the onesparticipating. He hated the double standards and, while Jack neveremulated the image of a pristine angel, he knew several things forcertain. A man provided for and took care of his wife’s needs. Allof her needs. And if he was foolish enough to marry her, he shouldhonor his vows. Jack tried to ignore the fact that he had lied andcheated for most of his life as he made these declarations tohimself.
He slowed his steps as he stalked throughthe house, his anger cooling as realization washed over him.Perhaps he had no place to tell anyone how to live their lives,especially when he hadn’t ever been honorable. But if Jack had everbeen sure of something in his life, it was this—he would always befaithful to Meredith.
The sudden awareness of his devotion toMeredith shook him to his core. It was because he was so investedin his thoughts that when he came around the corner, he nearly raninto the Duke of Mountebank.
“Jack. I mean, Mr. Archer,” the duke said,loud enough so that the prying eyes of the moving crowd thatsurrounded them could hear. “It is an honor.”
Jack had to bite his tongue from barking outa laugh. He didn’t like Damien, not since they met, not sincebefore. There was something about the man that irritated himgreatly and it bothered him that Simon should be so trusting ofsomeone neither one of them had known for very long.
Still, he knew what he was doing and whileit rankled him, a small part of him wondered if he would be able tolessen Meredith’s embarrassment by being accepted into the duke’sgood graces.
Why was her well-being the sole center ofall his thoughts?
Stiffly, he nodded his head in the barestattempt of a bow.
“Your Grace,” he said through grittedteeth.
“Come. Let’s talk,” he said with ahalf-smile as he led Jack away from the nosy guests.
“About what?” Jack said more to himself thanthe duke.
“Gossip.”
“I bloody hate gossip.”
“As do I. Which is why the bit I just heardmakes me worry,” he replied as his voice dipped. “It was about MissTaylor.”
Jack’s eye snapped to his.
“What about?”
“It’s hardly appropriate to repeat here,” hesaid. “Come. Follow me to the study.”
Jack followed Mountebank down the hallway toa closed door. Producing a key from his pocket, Mountebank unlockedthe door and went in, followed closely by Jack.
The room was large and opulent, with sixlarge windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, mirrored bydark wooden bookcases packed with hundreds, if not thousands ofleatherbound books. Gold filigree outlined the ceilings that werecovered in heavenly murals that hung high above them as they cameinto the room.
But Jack wasn’t interested in hissurroundings. All his focus was on Mountebank as the duke reached alarge, walnut desk at the back of the room. He reached for a bird’seye maple box with silver inlay. Opening it, he took out a cigarand offered one to Jack. He refused, shaking his head.
The duke clipped it and picked upa glass tube, known asaDöbereiner's lamp. It was an invention, not twenty years old,that allowed the user to light a flame. A chemical reaction wouldproduce a flammable gas to pass over a metal catalyst which causeda flame to ignite. The duke brought the cigar to his mouth andpuffed on it, as a cloud of smoke rose between them.
“Now,” Jack said after another moment,noting the way the duke’s shoulders sagged after his initialinhale. “What did you hear?”
“I’m not quite sure, as it made no sense,”Mountebank said, arms folding across his chest as the hand holdingthe cigar was propped up over his upper arm. “That’s why it struckme as odd. An elderly lady in the card room was talking with agroup of ladies when I overheard her saying that she rememberedwhen a young Miss Taylor from Dorset had run away to be married.The countess and her sister are from Dorset, aren’t they?”
A stilted silence followed as Jack stared atMountebank as if he had lost his mind.Married? Meredithwasn’t married. She was a spinster. An on the shelf governess.There was no possible way she had ever been married.
“Excuse me?”
