The 12th Kiss

by Laura Hogg

  "I will prove I can do it. I swear it."

  * * * *

  The next night, Lord Cheltham went looking for Raphael again on the stinking, noisy streets of the city. He saw a boy leaning down, looking into a low window of a run-down house belonging to a local merchant. He moved toward him.

  "Is there trouble, lad?"

  "No sir. They're milling in the basement."

  "Who are they?"

  "The city's best street-fighters. The underworld folks, unknown to higher folks."

  Lord Cheltham raised his brows. “Really?"

  "It's a prize fight. They're sparring their hearts out."

  Lord Cheltham leaned down and observed with interest men bloodying each other up. He saw Raphael knock out a man. The lad held up his arms and people cheered him on. He grinned wide enough to fill up the room with his delight. Lord Cheltham knocked on the small dirty window to garner his attention. It worked. Raphael frowned and made his way up. He faced his friend.

  "Did you see it, Cheltham?"

  "I did. Good fight, lad! You are greatly skilled."

  "There is going to be an ongoing tournament for honor. I do this to get more respect. In the long-term, I won't have to fight so much if I win the great prize. One look from a little winner like me who is known to take out men much bigger, and fellas considering trouble will think twice!"

  "It's a grand idea, my friend. How do I sign up?” Lord Cheltham inquired of Raphael, smiling. He glanced down into the small window once more and saw a rather stocky man take a hard one in the face by his smaller competitor. Lord Cheltham winced.

  The scruffy stranger boy standing next to them scratched his side and frowned. “No, you two ‘ight not wanna continue with this."

  "Why?” Lord Cheltham asked, inhaling deeply. Do I not look like I can fight? He puffed up his chest in masculine pride.

  "A mysterious chap sign’ up earlier. He's a killer I ‘ear.” The boy wiped a soiled hand down the front of his even dirtier shirt.

  Raphael raised his brows. “Tell me more."

  "The cull wore a dark, hooded cloak. Hada a strange accent, ‘e did. Break-teeth words, ‘ard ta understand. From Asia, maybe from China. Not sure."

  Lord Cheltham took in a deep, deliberate breath. “I am going to kill the bastard."

  He shot my woman.

  Raphael turned to him sharply.

  "I cannot permit you to fight him, Cheltham. You'll die."

  "You know I can fight. I'm an old dog at it, Raph, so what's the problem?"

  "You do not know this man. His style of fighting—” He gave him a look of desperation.

  "He's from the continent of Asia, is he not?” Lord Cheltham inquired of the young boy.

  The youthful stranger nodded his head.

  "So I have a little bit of experience with his style.” He glanced at Raphael.

  Confidence glowed in the stranger boy's eyes, as if he knew for certain that the Asian competitor could easily kill them. He held up his hand.

  "Aye, the sonuva puppy's mama. Has an ‘xotic fighting style, like nothin’ I ever seen before, ‘xcept from our local hero, Raphael, of course. You wanna crash that cull?"

  Lord Cheltham reassured him of this with a cold nod. The boy shivered then nudged Raphael.

  "What's with the mask lately, Raph? You and this gent ‘ere wearin’ ‘em?” He reached for it, and Raphael jumped back.

  "My friend wishes to remain unknown. Don't ask."

  The boy nodded to Raphael knowingly and continued discussing the villain.

  "I saw that man demonstrate his skill on a poor fella when ‘e signed up. The man lies on a sickbed."

  "I'm going to kill him,” the Viscount repeated with deadly calm.

  "No, Cheltham!” Raphael pleaded.

  "He hurt my beloved Relief.” Lord Cheltham roamed his eyes across his young friend and anger tightened his chest.

  "She would not want this.” Raphael held out his hands in a gesture of pleading.

  "I know. She believes that you should let killers go.” Lord Cheltham tensed his jaw. Frustration pulsed through him. He rubbed his forehead as pain and pressure began to glow behind his eyes. Sometimes Relief does not know what is best, the dear girl. She needs me. His thoughts fired his heart, love expanding it with an urge to hold her and protect her. He fisted his hands. Apparently his young friend Raphael did not understand.

  "She does not think that way, Cheltham!” Raphael scoffed and tossed his hand through the air.

  Lord Cheltham considered his young friend. Raphael dressed in rough linen trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. He never wore a waist-jacket or cravat—had said that they confined him. Perhaps Raphael was in need of an older, wiser mentor himself.

  "But yet Relief would see them go unpunished,” Lord Cheltham declared. Raphael's not telling me something.

  Raphael took a step, stopped, and put his hands on his hips. He looked at the ragged little boy, then back at the Viscount.

  "That is simply not true, Cheltham. She has always reported any trouble makers to the authorities. She hopes to see them land in prison, not dead. She abhors seeing people die.” His cheeks flushed with—

  Was it fear?

  "She has seen death.” Sympathy and regret for the ugliness his beloved had seen turned the Viscount's stomach.

  "Yes. Don't fight that man, Cheltham.” Raphael threw his arms up again, agitated.

  "Once she feels safer, she will marry me.” Lord Cheltham turned to look at the surrounding, poverty-stricken neighborhood. Houses too close together, people drinking in the streets, rowdy children running wild...

  "She will not. Relief will never marry you until you comprehend her. You would take something important from her. And if you fight this man, you will lie in your eternity box.” He stamped a booted foot, and a patch of dirt flew a few inches.

  Lord Cheltham stood up. “If it ensures that my love will live, then so be it, Raphael."

  Raphael's eyes popped open. “Her harasser has seen you and Relief together. She has spotted him from the distance when you were with her."

  "What? When?"

  "You couldn't kick the answer out of me, Cheltham."

  "She doesn't believe in me."

  "That isn't true! She wants security when you cannot be at her side. Would you be willing to teach her how you fight?"

  Lord Cheltham's brows rose with great surprise. “She is a woman!"

  "What's your point?"

  "It would be unladylike beyond the little bit of self-protection she already knows, to ... to ... box!” He crinkled his brow in distaste.

  Raphael rolled his eyes. “If she is ‘unladylike’ then why do you want her?"

  Fourteen

  He saw Relief in his mind's eye. He thought, She is a beautiful, entrancing angel, and I feel exceedingly masculine in her presence. He said, “Relief is fully a lady, Raphael, a beautiful one."

  Raphael laughed. “She's no delicate flower.” He lifted his hand in the air daintily and rolled his eyes, making fun of frailty.

  "She appears as one to me.” Lord Cheltham folded his arms across his chest.

  "You want to force your illusion on her."

  "No. I love her as she is.” He lowered his arms to his sides and turned toward the window as loud cheering cut through the air.

  Raphael gave a quick glance to the fighters through the glass, and then raised his gaze to the Viscount.

  "It's not the real her you love, but rather the lady that you have created in your own mind.” He pointed in accusation.

  "I don't care that she is an American rebel.” Vexation pricked at his skin, and he forced out a long breath. His words sounded curt to his own ears. “I want her.” He tightened his jaw.

  "Do you really, Cheltham?"

  "Yes!” He threw up his hands in exasperation.

  "Her parents brought her up well, but Relief and her sister were born with spirit. They will act the perfect, proper little ladies when they have to, but both girls
are in reality, freer of mind. Relief could hide this in public, but would you be able to accept her true nature behind closed doors, Cheltham?"

  "Just how wild ... is she?"

  "Accept her for what she really is, all of her, Cheltham.” Raphael's voice had lowered to a reflective tone.

  "Look, Raphael. It is my duty as a man to be her protector and her duty as a woman to allow it."

  "You need to find yourself a traditional woman, Cheltham. That's what you need to do. You just don't understand."

  Was that resignation in Raphael's voice? Lord Cheltham shifted his weight as uneasiness crept into his chest like an ice-cold breeze through a crack in a window.

  "No, you don't understand, Raphael. If I cannot have her, I will die a bachelor.” And I will die young. I am quite mad with love. I will never feel this way for another woman, and I will not make a mockery of my life by marrying another. The boy by their side looked up from the window where he had been watching and grinned. He saluted them and dashed off.

  "A bachelor?” Raphael asked, after their companion left.

  Your voice—I hear sadness, thought the Viscount.

  "Your words shock me. You're nobility, Lord Cheltham."

  Lord Cheltham took a step, paused to rub his chin then raised his eyes to his friend.

  "Perhaps. Because I swear to God, Raphael, I will give my life to see that Relief is safe, whether or not she approves. I have never felt so overcome about anything in my life."

  "Are you just another dangerous pursuer, Cheltham?"

  "No! I am the man she is begging to win her over.” He tossed up his hands, mildly offended.

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "She loves me, lad. I see it in her eyes."

  Raphael dropped his gaze suddenly. Lord Cheltham placed a hand on Raphael's shoulder then let it fall to his side. They began to walk away from the house. Lord Cheltham noted that the other rundown houses nearby contained open windows, some with people hanging out, sometimes shouting in vulgar language. He grimaced when two badly soiled boys ran closely past them, not giving a hoot about manners. Then one little boy at a distance smiled warmly at them. The Viscount smiled back and nodded. He and Raphael continued to walk about the residential area.

  Raphael lowered his voice.

  "You really want her?"

  "You know that I do."

  "You can have her as a temporary lover. She and I have spoken about it. You will have to marry someone else. That will serve to fulfill your need to protect a woman. You scare Relief with your obsession at times."

  "I do not want to scare her. You're telling me to go to another woman?” Lord Cheltham stopped in his tracks, disbelief chilling him from head to toe.

  Raphael followed suit, appearing as if he were doubtful. Some dust floated up behind their feet.

  "Cheltham, what you want is a dream, a beautiful, romantic dream. It can never be more than that."

  Lord Cheltham turned to him sharply, not believing what he was hearing. How could Raphael be so against the match? Anger heated the Viscount's blood. He slammed his fist in an arc through the air and rested it at his side.

  "You do not understand the unremitting nature of my feelings, Raphael. My God, I need her to breathe."

  "For your own sake, say goodbye to the dream, Cheltham."

  He considered Raphael's words carefully. His chest ached with desperation. “I love her. I will make her see how much she loves me, too."

  * * * *

  Honora ran into Relief's chambers with a wide-eyed look of horror. “Sister, sister, I've just received news from Beth, our friend at the hat shop."

  "What is it?” Relief's stomach fell with dread.

  "The Viscount was seen talking with a blonde lady in a lavender dress."

  "She could be anybody, Honora."

  "She's a friend of Beth's cousin. Beth has been told that the Viscount might start courting the Cyprian."

  Relief slapped her hand over her mouth as despair fell upon her, heavy in its touch.

  Honora placed her hand on her sister's arm. “I'm sorry, Relief."

  Tears stung Relief's eyes. “He's the grandest liar I have ever known, Honora,” she said, blinking back tears. She would not cry over him, she promised herself, biting her trembling lip, squeezing her hands into fists and breathing quickly, intent on keeping her composure.

  That evening she decided on a dashing, dangerous phaeton for riding in Hyde Park while she considered her situation. The Viscount pulled his shiny curricle close to hers and smiled at her with love. She stared at him defiantly.

  "Pray, do not endure an accident in that vehicle, my lord,” she scowled.

  He snapped the ribbons and was off. “I vow woman, you will be the death of me!” His carefully chosen team pulled him forward in a hurry.

  Later he parked his vehicle and walked along the footpath forlornly, not far from the carriage drive. Many people had retired to their homes to prepare for supper, so it was quiet. The lavender-gowned woman pulled up in her barouche, smiling coyly at the Viscount.

  "My lord."

  He bowed slowly, not smiling. He stood a couple of yards away when she began to talk with him as her female escort sat back in silence, watching. Relief sat steaming, several yards behind the blonde woman's carriage, observing from a rented vehicle. Honora brushed off the long sleeve of her sister's simple gown and primped her red wig. A stray curl fell from underneath her large bonnet.

  "You cannot recognize us."

  Relief glanced to her sister who wore a short black wig of Grecian curls. “No, good idea you had, Honora, so we can get a closer look. The only problem is, I'm about to explode!"

  "So do."

  "It wouldn't be right."

  "Beth said that the woman was overheard saying she intended to trap Lord Cheltham into marriage."

  "What?"

  "Yes, Leafy. Go put her down!"

  Relief jumped down and marched forward. Lord Cheltham's jaw dropped as Relief pulled the hated wench from her carriage and spat out her words of anger.

  "You Cyprian bit o'muslin!"

  The blonde woman slapped Relief hard and screamed, “Help! Help! I'm being accosted!"

  Relief's hand flew up, and she touched her stinging cheek briefly. She gasped and slapped the woman back. It happened so fast. Regret ran through her heart, as she considered that she wasn't brought up to behave this way. Relief stood there, confused and overwhelmed with passion.

  "Ladies, ladies!” The Viscount jumped in and pulled them apart.

  Anger boiled to the surface, and Relief spoke, barely moving her lips. She snapped her head to the Viscount. “You have betrayed me. My heart stings,” she hissed.

  He leaned forward closely at the sound of her voice, etched with pain, low as it was, and peered into her eyes, taken aback. Suddenly his face lit up with happiness, and recognition made his eyes shine.

  "You're jealous of Miss Madison."

  The woman in lavender tossed them both a look of disgust, ascended her carriage and ordered her driver to be off. They parted post-haste.

  "Who is she?” Relief demanded. Anger like the kind she knew when a man hit a child in the gutter made her tremble.

  "Oh, only my future bride.” He crossed his arms smugly across his chest and leaned back on his heels.

  "What? How could that be? You did not defend her, my lord. So, I ask again, what did you say?” She lowered her head and looked at him fiercely, the way she did as Raphael on occasion.

  "You heard me. Since you and Raphael believe that I would be infinitely happier marrying a traditional woman. So be it.” His lips turned into a playfully arrogant smile.

  "Go to the devil.” She stormed off.

  * * * *

  Lord Cheltham watched Relief leave and clenched his hands tightly. He had real hope again. Relief was mad for him.

  My plan worked!

  Three hours later he fought in the merchant's basement as plain Mr. Wright, when to his shock, Relief and Ho
nora walked through the door, disguised as they had been in the park. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his arm once his opponent was down. Someone congratulated him.

  "Mr. Wright, if you win one more, you will have the privilege of going against our favorite, Raphael Taylor."

  Lord Cheltham barely acknowledged this. He went straight to Relief and grabbed her arms. He pulled her into a dark corner, and two men started another fight. The room filled with cheering. Honora stood close by her sister, trying not to pay heed to her conversation with the Viscount. Honora sniffed the air and put a dainty finger to her nose.

  "It smells like sweat in here.” No one paid much attention to her words. She dropped her hand and lifted her eyes to survey the room. It was stuffy and loud.

  Lord Cheltham let his arms fall to his sides, and Relief shifted from one foot to the other.

  "What are you doing here? Are you here to support Raphael? I haven't seen him yet. How did you and your sister get out of your house undiscovered and unchaperoned?"

  Relief looked at his hands by his sides. “I am accustomed to sneaking past my escorts. Mrs. Miller believes we are asleep. We have arranged our blankets convincingly."

  He grimaced. “I was informed that my reputation among the ton is in question now sweetheart, mostly topped off by that tussle with Miss Madison, though few saw it. They did not expect me to be involved in such a vulgar situation, with a woman of the night, even with my newly strange ways. They wondered how ‘that woman’ got through the entrance."

  "I'm sorry, my lord. Perhaps I could—"

  He touched her cheek, smiling fully now. “Ah, Relief, I am so happy that you feel so fervently for me. Your demonstration made my heart go pit-a-pat. You love me."

  "I'm not going to marry you."

  He frowned. Why are you so obstinate? You love me too, woman! “This place is not safe. You should leave.” This is not the place to talk some sense into you, though I'd like to shake it into you! Deep frustration wracked his whole body and he drew in a long, deliberate breath.

  "No, I will not leave.” She lifted her pretty chin defiantly.

  I'm not going to win this one, he thought. I know that look in a woman's eyes. “Then would it be too much to ask for you to give me your support?” If you're going to stay, Relief, then you're going to be here cheering me on, as my woman.