Page 69 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
She couldn’t think. Someone shoved a small beer into her hand and helped raise it to her lips. The coldness of it helped shake her back into herself. Bess Abbott held her on one side, Mr. Worley on the other. They cared about her. Not just for the money, or the success. They actually cared for her as a person. Behind Bess, Maximillian Vaughn peered down at her, his dark brows coming together.
Bess kneaded her shoulder. “You know, it was you who knocked out Bruising Peg, not t’other way ’round.”
Laughter bubbled up inside Ruby. Mr. Worley seemed concerned, but Bess looked relieved.
“There she is.” Her trainer stopped massaging, noticing Maximillian lurking nearby. “Oi. Wot business you got here?”
“I wanted to speak with Miss Jackson.” Bess didn’t move, looking eye to eye with him, and he swallowed hard enough that Ruby could hear it over the din of the crowd. “Please.”
Bess put her hands on her hips. “Last I knew, you made a date to see her and didn’t show up. Not a gentlemanly thing to do.”
Ruby saw the anguish on Maximillian’s face. She’d grasped his hand on the side of the ring. She could feel that he was sorry. But then, Bess had a point. Maximillian had not actually apologized or explained his absence. Mr. Worley released Ruby’s shoulder, likely so he could hold back his wife if need be.
“The whole household was sick.” Maximillian held up his hands, his words tumbling out too quickly. “Really sick. Puking and shitting—oh shite. I’m not supposed to say that in mixed company, am I?” He blanched, his eyes as big as saucers. “But it’s true. Mr. Hastings, the butler, he was the worst, and I had to polish his shoes after he—you know—all over them.”
Mr. Worley began to chuckle. “Bess, love, that’s enough toying with him. The poor boy just wants words. Ruby, do you want to speak to this young man?”
“How do I know he ain’t lying to cover his undependable arse?” Bess countered, not taking her eyes off of Maximillian.
“Ask Roger, the other footman. Or Baron Stone. They would never lie for me. I’m not that good of a footman,” he pleaded.
“Mr. Vaughn can talk to me if he likes,” Ruby said. “I think I believe him.” She’d felt the heat in his hand, the emotion in his face as he’d reached for her just after she knocked out Bruising Peg.
Bess moved aside, allowing Maximillian to step toward Ruby and take her hands.
“You were amazing. More than amazing. I’ve never seen such a decisive fight in my life.”
Ruby preened. “Did you make any money off me?”
He grinned. “A king’s ransom. So did Lord Stone. And Roger, too. But I made the most.”
“Because you bet the most?”
“Because I bet everything I had that you would put her down in the first round.” He squeezed her hands. “Don’t you know yet? I believe in you, Ruby Jackson.”
Her eyes pooled with water, but she gripped his collar and hauled him down to her level so she could kiss him proper. Although surprised, he didn’t pull away. His lips were soft and warm, and she tried to be gentle. She was supposed to be gentle. But then he wrapped his arms around her, and she twined hers around his neck and pressed into him.
Ruby didn’t care who saw or who judged what she did. This person in front of her believed in her and showed it in the clearest way—he put his money on the line. Maybe he hadn’t shown up last Sunday when he promised, but if he truly was coming from a sick house, she wouldn’t have wanted him there anyway.
“Oi, break it up, you two, or I’ll throw cold water on you,” Bess said. “Ruby, you’ve rounds to make to the Fancy. Don’t forget who pays your bills.”
Maximillian lifted his head but kept his arms around her. “May I escort you over?”
Ruby flushed with pleasure. “Please.”
She followed as he cut a path through the crowd, his dark hair distinctive and his intimidating height easing the way. He held his arms out to maintain the space, making her feel more than wanted—special, prized. That she was worth more than the five quid and pint of gin she’d just won.
Maximillian presented her to Lord and Lady Andrepont, and they applauded her. Exalted, Ruby took a fine curtsy. Lady Andrepont came to her side and guided her by the arm over to where Corinthian John stood with the prizefighter and her could-be father, Daniel Miller, leaving Maximillian to resume his footman duties for Lord Stone. Ruby wished Maximillian could remain at her side, but his time was not his own tonight.
Ruby’s stomach clenched. The joy of her win melted into terror.
“May I present to you, Miss Ruby Jackson, the prizefighter Daniel Miller.”
Daniel stuck his meaty fist out to shake her hand. Hands clasped, they surveyed each other. She took in the arc of his dark brows, the shape of his clean-shaven head, the roundness of his eyes, and the shape of his nose and ears.
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Ruby let her hand fall away from his.
“Pleasure is mine. Quite a fight. Congratulations on a knockout.” Daniel Miller narrowed his eyes at her.
