Page 40 of A Very Roguish Boxing Day
He led her the short distance to Covent Garden.In addition to being the home of some of London’s most famous theaters, it held one of the city’s largest fruit and vegetable markets.Even on Christmas Day, there were a few stalls open.
Tom walked past them, heading for the cluster of wagons on the fringe of the square.One of the men looked up.“Bloody hell—look who it is!”
Gwen watched as Tom shook hands all around and wished everyone a Merry Christmas.A small crowd quickly formed, and the men of the market looked every bit as excited to meet the heavyweight champ as the children in Green Park had been.
After a few minutes of chit-chat, Tom came around to the point.“Miss Gwendolyn here has found herself in something of a pickle.She needs to get back to Merstham, and she needs to do it today.It’s extremely urgent.”
One of the drivers shrugged.“I’m heading back to Chaldon.”
“Is Merstham on your way?”Tom asked.
“It’s not, but it ain’t too far out of the way.I’ll take you.It’s Christmas, after all.”
Gwen joined Tom in thanking the driver profusely.The next thing she knew, she found herself climbing into the back of a wagon with Tom.It was none too clean and bore signs of the cabbages it had recently transported, but Gwen felt nothing but gratitude toward the driver as she settled into the bed.
She nudged Tom with her elbow.“Thank you.”
He rubbed the back of his head.“I was worried you might be annoyed.I hope I wasn’t too bossy back there.”
She cast him an amused look.“You were a bit high-handed.But I didn’t particularly want to spend five guineas, either.If I’d had any idea you were capable of charming strange farmers into offering us a ride,Iwould have been the one to dragyouout of that inn.”
He laughed.“Money is something of a raw nerve for me.I’m afraid it makes me act a bit odd at times.”
“I was surprised,” Gwen admitted.“Not that I know very much about boxers, but I don’t usually think of them as being thrifty.”
“Most of them aren’t.But it’s a short career, you see…”
He explained how he was hoping to stop boxing sometime next year, that he already had a constant ringing in his ears, and that he wanted to quit before he developed even more problems.He told her about some of the more ridiculous things he’d done to earn money, and they laughed about some of the strange products he’d endorsed.
“What will you do after you retire?”
He shrugged.“I don’t know.I’d like to get out of London.Everybody knows me there.You saw the good part of that today, but the other side of the coin is that a couple of times a week, some drunk idiot tries to start something with me.They figure it’ll be a story they can dine out on, of the time they went at it with the heavyweight champ.It’s tiring, and if I try to defend myself, I risk getting brought up on an assault charge.”
Gwen leaned back in the wagon.She was by nature reserved, but Tom was so easy to talk to.“Where will you go, then?”
He inclined his head.“That’s the problem, all right.There’s no work for me in Stockbridge, where I grew up.Hell, there wasn’t even enough for my brother, Neil.Most of the jobs I could do—working the door at a gentleman’s club or giving boxing lessons—are in London.Which is just the place I’m trying to get away from.But the other thing about living in town is that it’s better for my ears.”
“Really?”Gwen tilted her head, curious.“How so?”
“I don’t notice the ringing nearly as much when there’s sound around me.”He laughed.“I’m probably the only person who’s glad when there’s a barking dog, or someone shouting curses in the middle of the street.But when it’s dead silent, that’s when the ringing drives me half mad.”
She squeezed his leg.“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
He shrugged.“Me, too.But we all have our crosses to bear, and I guess this one is mine.So now, all I want is a village that’s as noisy as London, where there’s some work for me to do.”He snorted.“Wish me luck finding that.I’m going to need it.”
Gwen pressed his leg again.The conversation moved on.She told him about Aunt Agatha.About how she didn’t fit into the world she’d been born into.About how all the other young ladies of her class spent their days trimming bonnets or perfecting their dancing steps.And there was Gwen, whose topics of conversation were things like bees or a new recipe for cheese she was eager to try.
Gwendolyn was surprised when the farmer who was driving them called down, asking whereabouts her cottage was.She shouldn’t have been surprised.Given that it was December, the sun had been sinking since four o’clock, and by now it had grown dark.But how was it possible that they were here already?The three-hour drive had passed as if it had been mere minutes.
Gwen made the driver wait while she ran into her cottage and came back with three jars of her best honey.He seemed pleased with this gift, and they thanked him again and wished him a merry Christmas.
Tom had to duck his head to get through the front door to Gwen’s cottage.She quickly lit a few lamps, then poured a scoop of coal into the grate and got the fire going.“This is it.My humble abode.”
He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the shabby sofa before the fireplace, the plain oak table next to the window, and the connecting door that led to her little kitchen.He grinned.“This is grand, Gwen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.While they’d been riding together in the wagon, they had been so busy talking, it somehow hadn’t occurred to her to discuss what Tom would do upon their arrival in Merstham.They had barely managed to find a ride here; there would be no way for him to get back to London at this time of night.
His thoughts appeared to have taken a similar direction.“So, I know we need to be more careful.This is your home.You have a reputation to maintain in the village.”
