“But,” he continued, adding a bit more distance between them by taking a small step back, “your innocence is sacred. I will not take it before our wedding night.”
Gabriella drew a shuddering breath. As deflated as she suddenly felt, she knew he was right and was glad that one of them had the resolve to do the correct thing. “Thank you.”
He pushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek and swept it behind her ear. “You should.” He grinned. “Resisting you right now is no easy feat, but I’d like our first time together to be special. Not some hasty tumble on a library sofa.”
“Three weeks seems like an eternity, though,” she couldn’t help herself from saying.
He nodded. “It does. But we’ll also be very busy during that time. For starters, there’s the fight tomorrow, and once that’s over I think we ought to arrange the reunion Victoria requested to have with your parents. We can go to Gloucester together and see how she and Ben have gotten themselves settled. After that, there’s no reason for us not to spend more time together just as we have been doing during our courtship.”
She appreciated his soothing tone—the way in which he tried to lessen her concerns by making light of everything. “I’ve really enjoyed our outings.”
It was true. They’d spoken at great length about a number of different subjects, laughed at jokes, teased each other, and taken pleasure in just being together.
“So have I.” His hand came up to cradle her cheek, his thumb lightly stroking. Dipping his head, he gave her a tender kiss before saying, “I think we ought to return to the ballroom now before anyone finds us missing.”
Chapter 32
Gabriella studied her mother at breakfast the following day. She looked tired. Drawn. “Did you not sleep well last night?” Gabriella asked.
Plopping a lump of sugar into her tea, Lady Warwick gave her daughter an irritated look. “Of course not, Gabriella. How can I when our entire family risks social suicide?” She shook her head, sipped her tea, and expelled a deep breath. “It’s not just Huntley’s past, your broken engagement with Fielding, or your current engagement to Huntley. It’s also Victoria’s annulment, her decision to marry into the lower class and live in a cottage, Mrs. Matthews’s arrival at the ball last night, and Huntley’s boxing match today. The scandal sheets would enjoy any one of these stories if the truth behind them were ever discovered, but together? It will send the gossip mongers into a frenzy! Our family’s reputation will be decimated.”
“I know, Mama. I’m sorry it has to be this way. Truly I am.”
Her mother pressed her lips together and frowned. “In spite of what you may think of me, I always wanted the best for you and your sister. The situation that you’ve created seems to be anything but.”
“Perhaps to your way of thinking. Because you can’t imagine a life apart from Society—a life in which you’re not invited to every event there is.”
“You’re asking me to denounce everything I have ever believed in—the very foundations of my upbringing and—”
“So many rules.” Shaking her head, Gabriella reached for her mother’s hand, clasping it gently against the white tablecloth. “I have never been popular, Mama. It’s always felt like such a struggle for me to do the expected, to fall in line and behave according to a protocol that I didn’t always believe in. And yet I was willing to continue doing so for you and Papa as long as I had no other aspirations. But then I fell in love and I realized how meaningless social etiquette is in the grander scheme of things.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “You think it meaningless for a lady to behave respectably? To follow her parents’ advice with regard to her future?”
“I think a lady ought to have some say, but you gave me none, Mama. Not once.”
Her mother’s brow wrinkled a bit and then she finally nodded. “I’m sorry.” She hesitated a bit before saying, “The thing is that your father and I have been miserable ever since Connolly swindled Victoria into marriage. We were so determined to do better by you that we practically pushed you into Fielding’s arms without paying attention to how ill-suited the two of you were. And then Huntley showed up, and our concerns just grew. He came out of nowhere, we knew nothing about him, and so we worried that we would be facing another Connolly all over again. It put a terrible strain on us. We fought often, each of us irritable with the other for no logical reason.”
“Is it better now?” Gabriella asked.
Lady Warwick averted her gaze, her cheeks growing suspiciously pink as she proceeded to straighten out her napkin. “We have—reconciled.”
“I’d avoid any more questions if I were you,” Caroline said, speaking up for the first time.
Agreeing with her, Gabriella bit her tongue. Instead, she quietly finished her breakfast and informed her mother and aunt that she was going to call on Raphe so she could wish him luck with the fight.
“You’re not thinking of attending it, I hope,” Lady Warwick said with a shrewd stare, halting Gabriella’s exit from the dining room.
Keeping her expression as tepid as possible, Gabriella said, “Actually, I was planning to take tea with his sisters.” Which she would do, right before leaving for Hackney Meadows with Coventry and Richardson. Thankfully, her mother did not question her any further, making it possible for Gabriella to leave the house without confirming or denying anything. Technically, she hadn’t lied, she told herself as she knocked on Raphe’s front door twenty minutes later. And as long as things went smoothly, there was no reason at all for her parents to ever discover that she had in fact gone to offer Raphe her support.
“Have we told you how thrilled we are with your engagement to Raphe?” Amelia asked as soon as Gabriella arrived in the parlor, her eager question preceding a customary greeting.
Not minding in the least, Gabriella grinned. “Thank you,” she said. She then nodded politely to Coventry and Richardson, who’d risen upon her arrival, their felicitations coming in quick succession of each other. Her eyes met Raphe’s as he came toward her. “I can assure you that I am quite thrilled as well.”
“As am I,” he murmured for her ears alone as he offered his arm and escorted her to the sofa. Dressed in a pair of brown wool trousers and a white cotton shirt without waistcoat, jacket or cravat, he looked devilishly roguish.
“Are, err—are you ready for today’s event?” she asked as she took her seat and reached for the teapot in a futile attempt to hide her blush. The effect he had on her was surely plain for all to see. Especially when her unsteady hand made the tea spill the moment she started to pour.
“I believe so,” Raphe said, sounding amused. Claiming the seat beside her, he made no effort to stop from brushing his shoulder against hers or nudging her with his leg whenever he leaned forward or backward. Taking a sip of his tea he added, “As you know, I’ve been practicing quite diligently in the courtyard.”
Gabriella froze, her cheeks burning with the reference to their scandalous run-in with each other. “Indeed,” she said, lowering her gaze to her lap so she didn’t have to meet the curious looks she was getting from the rest of those present.
“We leave in fifteen minutes,” Raphe continued in a more deliberate tone. “Coventry and Richardson, I expect you to stay by Gabriella’s side at all times.”
“We won’t let her out of our sight,” Coventry assured him.
“Keep to the back,” Raphe said. “That’ll stop you from getting jostled by the crowd.”
“But I want to be able to see you properly,” Gabriella said. After all, that was the whole point in going.
“And you will. But I’m not going to let you attend unless—”
“I beg your pardon,” she told him tightly, not liking the proprietary tone he was taking. “You won’t let me?”
The room went instantly silent. Coventry and Richardson both looked as though they suddenly found the floor and ceiling remarkably interesting, while Amelia and Juliette stared at Gabriella with unfeigned interest, as t
hough they’d never witnessed anything as extraordinary as a woman intent on thwarting their brother’s wishes.
“I—” He ran his hand through his hair, sending the dark locks into disarray.
Gabriella’s heart rate increased, in spite of her momentary annoyance with him. Apparently, her attraction to him was directly proportional to the degree of dishevelment he happened to be portraying.
“I just want to ensure your safety,” he said.
“I know that,” she said, taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together in a most inappropriate gesture of affection. “But I am tired of being ordered about, of being told what I can and cannot do and of being coddled. What I long for is the freedom to make my own decisions. What I ask is that you trust me to make the right ones, and that I’ll know once I’m there if it’s safe or not for me to stand closer to you, or if I ought to remain at the back.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, his hand simply clenching hers as he gazed back into her eyes with a slew of warring emotions that threatened to break her heart. But she couldn’t allow herself to concede on this point. Not if they were going to have the sort of relationship they both longed for—the sort built on faith and honesty.
“Very well,” he eventually said. “As long as you promise to stay with Coventry and Richardson.”
“I promise.”
It was almost one o’clock by the time they reached Hackney Meadows. A large gathering of people had already formed around the raised platform on which the fight would take place. A variety of vendors set up along the periphery of the field offering food and drink, likening the place to a country fair Gabriella had once visited as a child.
“Can we get some roasted almonds?” she asked, unable to hide her excitement at the sight of two men walking about on stilts, each carrying a sign that advertised the fighters. Insisting on coming had definitely been an excellent decision!
“Go ahead,” Raphe said. “I’m off to find Guthrie.”
They parted ways, leaving Gabriella to enjoy the next half hour in Coventry and Richardson’s company while the crowd of spectators around the platform continued to grow. “I can’t believe how many people there are,” Gabriella said. She was starting to worry that she would have to stay at the back after all, which presently meant a good twenty yards away from the action.
“Huntley’s taking on the world champion,” Coventry said. “I’m not the least bit surprised by the turnout.”
“Especially not when considering all the bets placed in various Mayfair clubs. I’m sure half the men here were sent by their employers,” Richardson said.
“Are either of you familiar with the Bull?” Gabriella asked.
“I read about him in Boxania when he took the title last year,” Coventry said. “According to the reporter, his opponent didn’t stand a chance.”
Gabriella winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Not to worry,” Coventry told her cheerfully. “Huntley’s been doing this for years, and if this Guthrie fellow insists that he’s the only man capable of besting the Bull, then I’m sure there’s got to be something to it.”
“His Grace is pretty tough,” Richardson said. “I’ve been helping him train for the past two weeks. Gentleman Jackson’s looks like a playground for little girls when compared with what I’ve seen him do.”
As grateful as she was for their attempt to appease her, Gabriella couldn’t help but worry about the outcome of the fight. The rules were few, protecting neither man from serious injury, and if Raphe’s opponent was bigger and stronger . . .
Nauseated by the thought of him getting hurt, she handed her bag of remaining almonds to Richardson, who put it in his jacket pocket. “Looks like they might be starting soon,” he said as a showy man wearing scarlet silk coattails and a matching top hat stepped onto the platform. “Shall we move a bit closer so we can hear what he’s saying?”
Glancing about, Coventry nodded. “I don’t see why not. Looks pretty civil to me.”
“Some people even brought their children along,” Gabriella noted, spotting a man with a small boy on his shoulders. “Surely they wouldn’t do so if there was any risk of trouble.”
“I doubt Huntley would approve of us basing our threat assessment on other people’s choices,” Richardson said. “But, I have to admit that I’ve never heard of anyone getting hurt at these events, besides the fighters themselves.”
“How reassuring,” Gabriella told him dryly.
He gave her a bland look. “You know what I mean.”
“Neither have I,” Coventry said, “and I’ve been following the fight reports for years.”
“Then you must have read about Huntley’s previous fights.” When he didn’t respond, Gabriella prodded: “As Mr. Matthews?”
“I’m afraid not,” Coventry said.
Gabriella’s heart deflated. “Oh.”
“His fights would not have been reported,” Richardson muttered. He gave her a meaningful look before returning his attention to the platform, where the scarlet-clad man was already speaking.
“—So ye’re in fer a real treat, ladies ’n’ gents!” With a grin, he raised his hands, hushing the crowd. “T’ain’t every day we see one of our own take on a brawny Scotsman!”
The crowd cheered, their eagerness for the fight to commence sending them into an excited frenzy.
“Shall I bring the fighters on stage now?”
A roar of approval rippled the air. Nudged from behind, Gabriella shifted. So did the man in front of her, stepping straight back onto her foot. “Ow!”
Coventry caught her by the arm and pulled her back, past the people who’d closed in around them until they were once again standing on the outside of it all. Richardson followed, reclaiming his spot on her right. “Are you all right?” Coventry asked.
Wincing, she gave him a nod. “I’m fine.” She would not give either man reason to make her leave, even if her toes were now throbbing with pain.
“Are you sure about that?” Richardson asked. He did not look the least bit convinced. “I saw your expression when that brute stepped back into you.”
Gabriella forced a smile. “It barely hurts at all.”
Both men gave her a disbelieving frown just as the hulking figure of a long-haired man thudded onto the platform. Gabriella’s mouth dropped open. This was no mere mortal, but a veritable Goliath.
“Defending the world champion title, I give you—the Bull!”
The response was a cacophonous blend of chanting and booing, depending on who people had wagered on. Pumping his fists in the air, The Bull expelled a beastly roar that would send any sane man running in the opposite direction. Not Raphe, though, Gabriella thought with an odd mixture of pride and fear.
“And now, to challenge his title,” the announcer was saying, “straight from the heart of St. Giles—Misterrrr Matthews!”
Shouts, mingling with piercing whistles, burst through the air, increasing in volume as Raphe stepped forward, arms raised as though he’d already been declared the champion. The crowd went wild, chanting his name in a deafening chorus: “Matthews, Matthews, Matthews . . .”
Gabriella didn’t even try to speak. What would be the point? Her words would just be lost in all the noise. Craning her neck, she tried to get a better look at what was happening on the platform. The Bull appeared to be one head taller than Raphe, which was quite something, since Raphe was without a doubt one of the tallest men she’d ever met.
Gabriella watched as the announcer spoke to each man in turn, too low for anyone to hear. Both seemed to listen closely before nodding and removing their shirts. Gabriella could not help but stare at the indecency.
“I’ll ‘ave some of that, please,” a bawdy woman a few feet further ahead of Gabriella shouted. Laughter broke out, followed by an onslaught of lewd remarks that made Gabriella feel most uncomfortable.
“Do ye suppose they’re just as fit below the waistline?” someone else hollered.
“Relax,” Richardson spoke close enough to her ear for her to hear him above the shouting. “They are just words.”
“I know,” she told him sharply. Lord help her, her toes were still killing her.
“Then perhaps you’ll be kind enough to stop digging your nails into my arm?”
It wasn’t until then that she realized she’d grabbed hold of him. She instantly dropped her hand. “Sorry.”
“It’s quite all right,” he told her kindly before straightening once more and turning back to face the platform.
Gabriella did so too, just in time to watch the Bull land the first blow of the fight—a left-handed punch to Raphe’s chest. Gabriella gasped, her hands clenched together as she struggled to see, the pain in her foot completely forgotten. It didn’t look too severe. Raphe barely appeared shaken as he circled around, blocking another punch before landing a solid one of his own right under the Bull’s left eye. Shouts and chants grew to a thunderous roar, not unlike a wave, urging the fighters onward. They exchanged two more blows before going into a clinch, their bodies pushing and shoving until Raphe suddenly stepped aside, throwing the Bull off balance and ending the round.
“How many rounds are there?” Gabriella asked with a shout directed at both her companions.
“As many as it takes,” Coventry replied. “They’ll fight until one of them either gives up or gets knocked unconscious.”
Drawing a staggering breath, she returned her attention to the fight, which had started once more. The Bull charged forward with another left-handed punch that made poor contact, due to Raphe’s swifter movement. Shifting sideways, Raphe turned about quickly and attacked with a hit to the Bull’s right eyebrow. Gabriella watched in amazement as the larger man staggered backward and Raphe moved in, taking the opportunity to land several more blows until the Bull suddenly pushed back and drove his fist into Raphe’s mouth. A spray of scarlet painted the air.
A Most Unlikely Duke Page 30