Once Upon A Regency: Timeless Tales And Fables

by Samantha Grace

  After practice, Maeve washed and changed clothes. The house felt tense and she was tempted to walk to the church for an afternoon of prayer. Having finally decided that was precisely what she should do, she was stopped on the stairwell by Eva.

  “One of your gentlemen here to see you, Magnificent Maeve.”

  Maeve could tell that the dark-haired woman was tiring of the attention her 'sister' was receiving. It wouldn't do to be coy. “Lord Cole or Lord Mornay?”

  “Mornay. He could barely be troubled to say good afternoon to me.”

  “He knows Lord William's preference for you.”

  “For all the good it does me,” Eva said darkly.

  Maeve hurried down the steps before the woman's dark humor worsened. The baron stood in the front hall.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Mornay.”

  “Miss O'Malley,” he said briefly, nodding at her. “I'd come to ask you if you would care for a walk, but the rain makes that a less than appealing endeavor. Can I interest you in a carriage ride?”

  Maeve stared at him for a moment. Back home it would be considered highly inappropriate for a girl such as herself to ride in a closed carriage alone with a man not of her family. However, it behooved her to remember that here she was not a good Catholic girl, she was a tarnished London fighter lodged with brassies. In some ways that made it even more dangerous for her to accept such a carriage ride. Would he suppose it tacitly meant she was amenable to other things, elicit things? Contrariwise, Lord Mornay had mostly been a gentleman to her. At first teasingly, as though it amused him to bow to her, and then after he tried to kiss her his tone had become more respectful. Walking to the church would be in the rain. Riding with Lord Mornay she would be dry. It was probably a quite lovely coach. Was she being seduced by a dark path again? A path of ease that led to torture?

  Lord Mornay could play the devil, she supposed. Either taciturn or charming as it pleased him. More handsome of countenance than his craggy features would suggest independently. She supposed she had been contemplating his question too long when he scowled.

  “I'll take that as a no, then.”

  Her heart skipped a little beat at the thought of missing this carriage ride with him. “Beg pardon, Lord Mornay, it was only surprise at your offer.”

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It was clear that he'd shocked the girl with his invitation, but she hurried over to him. It was then he noticed she was already dressed for going out.

  “Am I keeping you from an appointment?” he asked as he linked his arm in hers.

  “Not an appointment, no. The Lord's house is always open.”

  He handed her up into the carriage as his driver stood by to close the door after him. It was tempting to sit next to her, but she would probably not appreciate the cozy arrangement. His instinct was that she would be more likely to agree to his proposition as a practical argument rather than a seduction. Strange woman.

  She folded her hands primly and asked, “Had you wanted to speak to me about the plan they hatched? Because I've not heard more.”

  “I think we have that well in hand,” he said. Now that it was time to make his case he found it a bit difficult to do. He opted to chat about her fight instead. “I've heard that your odds remain strong against Morse.”

  Her expression changed to a small frown. “As have I.”

  “Do you think it's possible you can take him?”

  She turned her gaze to the carriage window. The day outside was gray and dismal, but he could tell that she wasn't really looking at the landscape, but rather at something inside herself. “Morse? I'd give myself even odds. But then what comes of it? More fights with men? It can't end well.”

  “That's precisely what I thought,” he agreed, encouraged at the direction of her thinking. Her gaze returned to his. He wasn't sure if he should press his proposal now when she seemed nearly maudlin. Instead, he asked, “Have you given any consideration to what you might do?”

  She shrugged and looked down at her hands. “There's nothing for me to do, other than face this and see what happens next. I had considered,” she broke off for a moment and sighed. “Considered, you see, taking Lord Cole as my protector. But God saw fit to send me an angel and save me from that path.'

  What was the girl getting on about? “An angel?”

  “Lord Cole. He acted more the admonishing brother than lover, and I realized it had been folly to consider such a thing.”

  Finn had refused the girl? It was on the tip of Galen's tongue to ask more when the floodgates of Miss O'Malley's story finally opened upon him.

  “I'm just so worried, you see, about my folks. With da unable to work it falls to me as the eldest to find work and send home what I can. At first I thought the advertisement for a female fighter was a gift from God. How many girls grew up ring side? Even my brother Joey was too young to really remember what it was like when da was fighting, but I remember it all.” She bit her lip and her eyes were misty. “Especially the beatings da suffered. He'd been a champion, but age can beat down a fighter faster than anything.”

  Galen jumped on this line of reasoning. “We agree, then, that staying at the Enchanted Cave would be a poor choice?”

  She looked at him and her haunted expression pierced him. Her voice was soft and sad. “I've chosen this path and now there is no other.”

  “No other?”

  It was clear she wanted to cry, but doggedly held back the tears. “I tried to find a good Catholic husband and was told I'm tainted goods. Then I thought to sell myself to a protector as my family means more to me than my very own soul, but God was merciful and had me asking a man who'd hear none of it.”

  His ability to see people for who they really were felt like a detriment. She was every bit as earnest and good as Finn had painted her. Yet here she was, trapped in a life she didn't want, facing a fight she knew could lead to serious injury and end her ability to provide for her family. Would it be boon or bane to offer her the position as his mistress?

  “Isn't there some middle ground?” he teased. “You could marry an Anglican.”

  She laughed. “Och. And then never hear the end of it from me mum. And asides,” she admitted, sobering, “I'd not think I could spend all of my life with a man who thought me lesser. Certainly an Anglican would consider a brassy as much spoiled goods as a Catholic would.”

  * * * *

  Maeve looked back out the carriage window into the rain again. Was it pride, she wondered, to not want to be treated in such a way? Had she not humbled herself before the Lord as she thought she had? Here she was in this cozy carriage, safe from the cold drizzle outside, thinking about how she would not be treated. The carriage itself was a luxury beyond her ken. She'd never seen any like it. The leather seats were buttery soft to the touch. The glass windows were streaked with rain on the outside, but obviously polished to a clear shine. It was luxury. A sort of luxury she'd never even considered, much less thought to wish for. Was this what it was like to be a mistress? To be ferried about in complete luxury?

  As soon as she had the thought, it repelled her. Coveting luxuries was the very last thing she should do. What mattered were her parents, her siblings.

  Lord Mornay's voice interrupted her thoughts. “Or you could be the mistress of another man. Admittedly, I wasn't honest about truly seeking a mistress when I came to the Enchanted Cave, but you've changed my mind. I would be pleased to take you away from that place. You need never fight again.”

  The sound of the large carriage wheels spinning along the cobblestones rang in her ears as she stared into Lord Mornay's green eyes. Was this a devil's bargain again? That she darken her soul just that bit more, lowering herself to be a man's paid lover? Would her folks want her to sacrifice herself for them? They wouldn't. She couldn't.

  Her lips were cold and stiff as she made her reply. “My apologies, Lord Mornay, but I was weak when I considered taking Lord Cole as my protector. I can't live that l
ife.”

  He was quiet for a moment, considering her. Then he simply said, “Very well,” and rapped the top of his carriage with his walking stick. The wheels continued their clatter, spinning inexorably back to the Cave.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Galen hadn't seen any point in arguing with Miss O'Malley. He hadn't even offered her his terms, but her refusal had seemed quite final. Of course Finn had turned her head. Fine of face and form, a future earl. What woman wouldn't consider compromising her morals for such a man? But not, obviously, for Galen. She already knew from their previous conversation what a mistress stood to receive from such an arrangement and she'd not considered him for a minute.

  She hadn't laughed at him, though, so thank the Lord for small kindnesses.

  He would go to the fight tonight. He owed her that, he thought, for her help in sparing Os trouble and heartache. And perhaps, if the fight were brutal enough, she would revise her decision. He may not strike her as a prize catch as a protector, but he was considerate, and charming when he needed to be. He'd never had a mistress before and found that he was warming to the idea. Along with her physical charms she was bright and feisty. He imagined that if he gave her books to read they could have many an afternoon of debate here in his study. No, not here of course. At her townhouse, wherever that might be. Perhaps he should look at the places currently available. Would she want to choose it herself? She didn't seem the fussy sort, demanding a particular neighborhood or style of architecture. He couldn't really feature her demanding much of anything other than her right to her own person. She'd seemed quite clear on that, since the first time she had stiffened and walked away when he so casually put his arm around her shoulders. She'd demanded marriage then. but that was quite impossible. Although he might not have an overbearing earl of a father like Finn did, some things were outside the bounds of propriety. He was fairly sure that an Irish Papist wife was among them.

  * * * *

  Maeve knew it was time to begin her warm up before the fights. Bridget would be going on shortly to fight one of the three women dubbed “Lady Jackson's” fighters for the night. Instead of walking down to the kitchens, she lingered in the dining room wishing she were almost anywhere other than at the Enchanted Cave. Perhaps she should have considered Lord Mornay's offer more seriously. He wasn't a terribly bad man, even if unfortunately forward in his attentions. And devious. But at least he used those traits in service to his friends. And perhaps she should have let him kiss her. At least then she would have been kissed.

  Bridget sashayed into the dining room with a tea tray and smile. “Ready for the big fight?”

  It had been some time since Bridget had been anything other than hostile. “I reckon I will be,” Maeve answered carefully.

  Bridget poured two cups of the brew. “I'd put a tot in here, but I know you wouldn't drink it.”

  “Don't mistake me for a Protestant! I'd drink more than a tot and probably should.”

  As Bridget leaned over to set down the cup she whispered fiercely. “Don't drink a drop of this, Maeve O'Malley!” Then she sat next to Maeve and pretended to take a sip from her own cup.

  Maeve could see that Bridget had barely poured any liquid in the cup, so Maeve pretended to sip, too.

  Bridget, still smiling too widely said quietly, “Good. And now we just sit and chat like the friends that we are until Ruby stops skulking in the shadows by the door.”

  Maeve returned a small smile of her own. “Doesn't Ruby know that we've been arguing for over a week?”

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “She thinks I'm her friend and you're an idiot, so I'd not put too much stock in what she knows.”

  Maeve's smile came a bit more naturally. Bridget always had been saucy. “So why am I not drinking this lovely tea you brewed for me?”

  “That Louella brewed for you,” Bridget corrected. “Because Willy's plan is for you to go down. He wants to make sure of it.”

  “But he put four thousand pounds on me.”

  “So he said. I'd not believe a tenth of what comes out of that man's mouth.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “I may not be the strongest or prettiest or cleverest sister. But I'll not be the worst, either.” Her tone turned dark. “Drugging a woman so that she can be beaten? I'll not be party to that.”

  Maeve put a hand on Bridget's arm. “Thank you.”

  “And asides, did you hear that the odds have been turning? They're almost even. Do you think you can win this fight?”

  “I don't know,” Maeve answered honestly.

  Bridget eyed the door. “She's gone. Let's get the sisters. I have an idea.”

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Galen arrived early, long before the fights were to start. He was pleased that he didn't see the rest of the Mad Clan about. Ruby sauntered up to him.

  “Lord Mornay,” she purred. She seemed to have recovered from her fight the prior week, with just a touch of bruise showing under her powder.

  “Ruby,” he said, not nearly as warm as her own greeting.

  “Have you placed your bets yet? We have house bets going on if you have not.”

  “I don't care to, thank you.”

  A familiar voice broke in. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

  As the ladybird was still draped on him he simply nodded to his friend. “Cole. I could say the same for you.”

  “I had to see how it would turn out,” Finn replied.

  Galen nodded. They'd both had the same thought then, to watch over Miss O'Malley and make sure that if something could be done, they were there to do it. Not that they'd made it to the ring in time the prior week. “I was thinking of staying ring side this time.”

  Finn nodded his agreement.

  * * * *

  Bridget closed the door and scurried over to the center of the room to lean in close to the other sisters. “Did you see who is downstairs?”

  “Lord Aaron,” Margie said and crossed herself.

  “Who is Lord Aaron?” Maeve asked.

  Eva snorted. “Only the most powerful man in this part of London.”

  “I've not heard of him,” Maeve said.

  “He's not a good man to hear of, duck,” Margie said. “He's not a lord of the Crown, but of the streets. Gambling and money lending are his specialties.”

  “And guess,” Bridget asked, “how Willy Cage had the money to open the Enchanted Cave?”

  “Oh no!” Margie gasped. “He'll lose it and we'll be turned out for sure!”

  “What if we bought it?” Bridget asked.

  Eva chuckled. “Unless you've spread your legs a good deal more times than I've noticed, we can't do that.”

  Bridget was almost hopping foot to foot now. “Do you each think you could win your match?”

  Now Eva frowned. “What does that matter?”

  “Lord Aaron brought in one of his bookmakers tonight to manage the betting and I heard him listing his odds. The longest odds are on all four of us winning our matches tonight.”

  Eva stared at the little strawberry blond. “That's probably because that is the most unlikely thing.”

  “But what if we did,” Bridget insisted. “If we put all of our savings on that we could have enough to buy this place, I bet.”

  “That's ridiculous,” Eva said, throwing her hands up in the air.

  “What do you think, Margie?” Bridget asked.

  “I don't know.” As the oldest and most practical, it usually fell to Margie to make good decisions. But this time she turned to Maeve. “What do you think?”

  Maeve looked at the three sets of eyes turned to her. One hopeful, one skeptical, and one afraid. For women such as they were, was there any greater dream than to have the money and authority to guide their own lives? No, there wasn't. To even have a chance at such a dream seemed worth almost anything. She stood as straight and tall as she could. “I think we can take them. Place y
our bets and then meet me in the kitchen to warm up. Tonight you'll want to be as limber as you can be.”

  The sisters scattered to collect their coins.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Standing so close to the edge of the ring revealed the fights to be even bloodier and more vicious than Galen had realized. Little Bridget walloped her opponent with a joyous aggression he hadn't noted from her before. If he didn't know what these women had planned for Oscar he might have cheered her on a bit. Then Eva came out and fought with the deadly ferocity of a coiled snake. It seemed her opponent, who was a good bit heavier, would win the day. A solid blow made the dark-haired girl stagger across the ring and her opponent was on her. But Eva managed to swing her elbow back with a sharp, swift crack to the girl's cheek that set her spinning as well. Eva set on her with a flurry of fists that made Galen cringe.

  The third Irish Sister, Margie, was matched to a lady of the same weight. But it was quickly clear that her opponent was faster by far. The fight was brutal and Galen almost turned away in distaste. When he diverted his gaze, he saw a shadowed figure at the other edge of the ring and felt a chill. Lord Aaron the Gentleman Thug. Lord over the underworld of London. This fight had garnered some attention indeed. It was good that Oscar hadn't accompanied them this evening, he might have expired of fright upon seeing the man again.

  A bell sounded and Galen looked back at the contestants. Margie had blood running down her face and her sisters were staunching it with towels. She pushed them away and called for whiskey. Men handed her their glasses and she knocked back four of them. Willy called the fighters together. “Keep it clean!” he admonished them before setting them loose.

  The women seemed even more determined to harm one another. Punches fell in meaty, solid thwacks. Kicks were aimed to throw the other contestant off balance, and grapples used to spin each other about. Galen wasn't sure he'd ever seen two men go at it with such unflagging determination. He was concerned that both women might not walk out of the ring alive.