Page 44 of A Lady of Means
To boost morale for a looming deployment, Devyn’s regiment occasionally held public boxing matches.The preparations kept the men in shape, and the betting and competition were good for morale.But just now, the assembled crowd of men in uniform and out of it had gotten quiet, too quiet.Devyn looked over his Lieutenant’s shoulder to see a circle gathered, a swathe of yellow skirts visible from where he was standing.He heard a laugh.The hair on the back of his arms stood nearly on end at the sound of that laugh.
“Shit,” he swore.
Calum turned to look.“What?”
And then two soldiers were walking Lady Moria Pembrooke to a spot at the end of the wooden grandstand next to the ring outside the Royal Military Academy like she was some porcelain doll that might spontaneously shatter into a million shards.Booker, one of the youngest recruits from the Southbank, was asking if he could fetch her a cup of water.Her maid was standing behind her.Devyn saw his friend’s eyes fall over her, and he swallowed a lump in his throat.
Devyn rolled the tension from his shoulders.She shouldn’t be here.It wasn’t fit for a lady like her.He wasn’t fit.God, but the sight of her here, on his own turf…
Devyn blew out a large breath.“She’s a fucking menace, that girl.”
Calum chuckled.“Tho’ that was wha’ ye liked abo’‘er ladyship?”
Now Devyn was the one swallowing a lump in his throat as her hungry eyes fell down his body.She fanned herself like she was too warm.Her maid handed her a fan, Lady Moria held it over her face, still holding his eyes.Devyn was a fool, so besotted that he didn’t foresee what came next.
“Looks like the little deb fancies a bit of rough,” said the voice of Calum’s opponent as he stepped up to the little stairs leading into the ring.
“Captain,” Calum called, but Devyn could hear nothing but the sneer in Sergeant Fox’s voice, the blood roaring in his own ears.
“Care to say that again, you bastard?”Devyn was pulling on the other man’s shoulder to face him.Another man might be intimidated by the size of Fox, but Devyn was taller, broader.He stared down the other man, daring him to recant his words.
“I said,” Fox gave him the stupidest fucking grin, sizing him up.“The pretty woman over there,” he jutted his chin in Moria’s direction, Devyn watched her face fall out of the corner of his eye that she registered they were talking about her, “Seems like she likes a bit of rough, like yourself.Maybe I’ll give her a crack next.Would hate to leave the little minx unsatisfied.”
Devyn wasn’t sure that in the span of his life, he’d thrown a punch faster than he had right then.He heard the crack of the man’s jaw and the splash of blood and possibly a tooth hit the floor of the boxing ring.Fox swung, but Devyn ducked, hitting him with another one-two punch to his ribs.The other man doubled over, holding himself.Bastard still swung at Devyn with his other hand anyway.
Devyn grabbed the other man’s fist, turning back his fingers till he heard the sound of a cracking knuckle or two.It wasn’t enough.He could shatter him bone by bone, and he wouldn’t stop.
Several soldiers rushed the ring at once, Calum was wrapping arms around Devyn, pulling him back.Devyn didn’t register that he was hurting his best friend trying to get to Fox, until Calum cursed.Devyn was looking over all their heads, around them all for her.He made out her maid, rushing her to a carriage, pulling Lady Moria inside after her.
Devyn swore again; but Calum had such a hold on him that when he shoved Devyn to a bench, he sat.
“Yer an idiot, ye know thon?”Calum said, losing a breath as he plopped beside him.
“A prize idiot, yes, I know,” Devyn ground out, grimacing at the tightness in his shoulders.
“Well,” his comrade let out a long sigh, folding his hands underneath his arms, “I reckon if you’re knee deep in shit, then we both got muddy boots, lad.”
Devyn wanted to say thank you, something, anything, but he heard the sound of his own name first.
“Captain Winter!”A commanding voice called.Devyn and the others turned to see their superior officer, a large and unyielding man with an impressive mustache, standing in front of his tent.
Both men stood at attention, saluting their commanding officer.
“Yes sir,” Devyn answered.
General Waddingham motioned for him to step inside his tent.Devyn had to bend his frame to enter, biting down a likely-deserved wince at the strain the movement caused his muscles.He wasn’t sure what to expect, but being called into his superior’s chambers after a fight like that one, spelled disaster.
And still, he’d do what he’d done, bloodying a man for speaking ill of the lady he- never mind- point being, he’d been willing to bloody a man for her.Hell, he’d probably have bloodied Fox for sport for speaking ill of a woman the way he had, but the level of his anger, his fury, that was reserved forher.He tried to box up thoughts of her and what little he wouldn’t do for her when he was asked to account for his actions.
* * *
“What the hell happened to you?”
Moria said, barging into the townhouse Devyn and Calum shared on a wave of chiffon, smelling like lemons and looking like pure sunshine but with perfect breasts and hips to die for, without so much as a greeting.Devyn turned to traitorous Calum, who followed only a pace behind her, Moria’s petite lady’s maid on his arm acting as chaperone.
“Really, Calum?”
Calum sighed, running a hand through his ruddy hair.“I walked all the way to the wrong side of town for a bloke like me and got nearly turned away by her prissy butler-”
