“Women have engaged in public bareknuckle prizefighting. The greats Daniel Mendoza and Gentleman John Jackson served as seconds for one of them. Before their time, there was a certain championess by the name of Elizabeth Stokes who knew the noble science of defense. She was quite possibly the greatest female pugilist this country has ever known.”
“She might have been Lady Bare-Knuckles, but she was no lady. You are.”
“Oh, pray, do hush up,” she hissed, darting a nervous glance at Alex, giving him a reassuring smile. “No one else need know that. You promised to keep your mouth shut on the subject. You vowed not to betray my secret, sir.”
“By thunder, that I did, and you are most fortunate indeed, that I am not in the habit of breaking promises,” he answered. “I will endeavor to keep my promise in the future, but you…you, my little chit, have been very naughty.”
“Heavens above, pray be quiet! If you don’t close your mouth this instant, you shall ruin everything, and you gave me your word that you wouldn’t!” With those words, she stamped her foot, realizing a moment too late that it might be uncharacteristic of a gentleman.
“Is there a problem?” Alex asked, coming over to size Richard up.
“No problem,” Lydia mumbled. “No problem at all. My apologies, Alex. Alex is a master of the Noble Science of Defense.”
“Is that so?” Richard asked lazily.
“Indeed,” Lydia said hastily. “Alexander Mandeville, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my friend, Lord Tisbury…we…uh…we attend the same club.” She’d used Richard’s real identity. There was no way around it. If he was quite hateful he could now expose her and shatter her alter ego of Jamie Poole.
“Lord Tisbury.” Alex bowed his head to him. “Is this the first time you’ve attended one of our matches?”
Richard couldn’t believe his ears.
He was absolutely furious. Lydia had gotten into an actual fight with a baron’s son? What had she been thinking? Was she oblivious to the danger she’d been in? What if she’d been exposed as a female? What…his mind raced, and he felt like stepping into the ring himself to work out the tension building inside him. It was obvious to him now that she had to be taken in hand. As for her chum, Alex Mandeville, there was more to the chap than met the eye. Mandeville and he weren’t exactly strangers. The fact that Lydia had just introduced them, was obviously delighting the man.
Fortunately, Mandeville had read the scene accurately. He knew that Richard didn’t want him to recognize their past and current relationship. If Lydia knew that he and Mandeville had worked together during their time spent fighting Boney, she would want to know more, and he didn’t feel like divulging all that information to her presently. She…she was better off kept in the dark, for now.
However, if Lydia wanted to play games, Richard could play along as well. He might as well get into this Jamie charade, and swing it to his advantage. Unfortunately, he would now have to represent himself as Lord Tisbury, as she had quite forgotten about poor unfortunate George, and the quick thinking Mandeville would have played along no matter how she’d introduced Richard.
“Not the first time, no. It is, however, the first time I’ve come with Corky here.”
“Corky?” Alex asked. He was obviously entertained by this sudden turn of events.
“Aye, that’s Jamie’s nickname at the club. I believe he received it while attending Eton. Isn’t that right, Corky?” He watched her face transform, her eyes snapped, but she was fighting to contain her temper. Oh, my, he’d stirred her passions. He was going to get it later on…and that thought delighted him to no end.
Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, and he could have sworn she muttered under her breath, “I’ll get you for this, Lord Tisbury.”
Richard gave a jolly laugh, which seemed to only irritate Lydia more. Now, she was grumbling beneath her breath.
“It’s apparent that the two of you are old friends. You have a familiarity and ease that new acquaintances would not possess.” Alex cast Richard an odd look. Did he know about Lydia’s charade? It was something he’d have to take up with him later. Not that he wanted Mandeville to know who Lydia truly was. It didn’t play to Richard’s advantage for the man to know everything. Half the fun would be letting him find it out on his own.
“I shall leave you two gentlemen to talk between yourselves. Pip is waving to me. He looks most furtive. I fear he must be quite nervous about the fight. I’m going to go and try to bolster his courage. With enough confidence, he’s an unstoppable force in the ring. If it falters…”
“Aye,” Alex muttered. “He crumbles like a house of cards. He’ll be right as rain with a bit of your encouraging words.”
Richard wanted to follow Lydia, but Mandeville stepped in the way blocking his path. Even Richard wasn’t ready to challenge the man to allow him passage. He was in no mood to make enemies tonight. They’d once been friends, but the wars were a long time ago, and Mandeville had been scarred deeply by his time spent fighting Napoleon. Some of the scars could be seen—most of them weren’t visible to the naked eye.
“Jamie seems quite fond of you, Lord Tisbury.”
“Does he?” Richard asked nonchalantly.
“He does.”
“Well, he’s a good lad.” So, they were going to keep playing at not knowing each other. They’d have to wait to speak somewhere private. The two of them knew all too well that they could be easily overheard during an event such as this.
“I daresay that’s one way of putting it,” Mandeville agreed, giving him an intense stare. Richard studied the growing crowd around them. He had almost lost sight of Lydia, and he didn’t like that—not one bit. If he couldn’t see her, he couldn’t rush to her aid if a blackguard tried to pick a fight with her.
“Did you ride here with Jamie?”
“I did. We came in the same hackney.”
“Ah, I see.” Mandeville’s eyes narrowed. The clever chap was piecing the puzzle together. Richard had the keen sense that Mandeville knew Lydia’s secret, but she didn’t know that he knew. The burning question was, did Mandeville know that she was Lady Lydia Radcliff or had he just seen through her façade and deduced that she was a girl in boy’s clothing? In their trade, they had to know how to easily see through disguises. And if Mandeville knew her true identity, things could get tricky indeed. He could show up at a social soirée, and that would certainly throw a rub in the way for Lydia.
“Have you placed any wagers for tonight?”
Richard snorted. He had. He wagered that Mandeville had more than a passing interest in Lydia. If he did know her secret, he cared enough about her not to betray it. And…that…that could spell trouble for him. He groaned. That familiar sensation of the green-eyed monster stirring within him washed over him. He struggled to contain his composure. There was no point in creating another spectacle at an already charged atmosphere. Mandeville had already loved and lost dearly. He was a passionate fellow, and when he gave his heart—it wasn’t given lightly. If he had fallen for Lydia, Richard was in trouble.
“I wager that your fighter will win. You look like a capable man, and I imagine that you taught Pip all that he knows.”
“Ah, well, Pip is a good enough young chap. A bit green at times, but he’ll soon outgrow that. If only he could conquer his fears of appearing in front of a large audience, other than that, aye, he’ll make a fine fighter someday. Of course, I’ve seen better fighters, especially some of the gentlemen who travel within your social circles. However, of the current contenders, Pip’s one of the best. There is always the chance that the crowds could make him skittish, and if he falters just once, his opponent will take advantage, and then, all is lost.”
“So you’re saying he’s not a sure bet?”
“Nothing in life is a safe bet, Lord Tisbury. I’ve lived through far too much hell to think otherwise.” With those words, he gave Richard a pointed stare. “There’s always the chance that you could lose something you thought yo
u were going to win. There’s always a possibility that…your life will crumble down around you. And there’s precious little in this life that can mend a broken heart.”
Richard felt for the man. They’d both grieved deeply for what Mandeville had lost in their quest to take down Boney. For a time, Mandeville blamed Richard and had come at him with blood in his eyes, but that had all been forgiven long ago. Or had it?
Richard swallowed thickly. If he hadn’t been sure of it before, he was aware of it now. Mandeville was concealing his feelings for Lydia. The poor girl was surrounded by possible suitors, and was blissfully ignorant to it all. Mandeville’s comment could be directed at himself or at Richard. If Richard had anything to do with it, though, it would be directed at Mandeville. He’d do anything to win Lydia’s heart and hand—he’d even challenge a champion prizefighter. He’d hate to see Mandeville suffer another heartbreak, but Richard wouldn’t allow him to steal Lydia away. He would gladly give Mandeville anything else to make up for what he’d lost during the wars, but Richard would fight for Lydia. He’d brave the very fires of hell for her.
“Well,” Lydia said, appearing at Richard’s side. “At least the two of you have remained civil with each other. I knew you’d like each other.”
If only she knew. He liked Mandeville well enough, but did Mandeville like him? That was a tricky question to answer. Their friendship had been irrevocably tarnished in the wake of Maria Gallo’s death. How could it not? Richard had sent Maria on one last mission, and that mission had gotten her killed. As far as Richard was concerned he would carry the very nature of her death to his grave. If Alex were to know the truth—he would struggle to live with it.
Instead of remarking on it, he just smiled at Lydia. Richard’s heart swelled again as he looked at her. Even dressed as she was, she still tugged at his heartstrings and fired his passions. If only they were already wed. He wished he was taking her home to his bedchamber, instead of taking her home to her brother’s house. He studied Mandeville again, this time in a new light. The man had the classical looks that the ladies seemed to swoon over. Indeed, it was his dangerous charm that had worked so well for him during his covert missions. His face boasted a few scars of his days fighting Boney, and had earned a few more since, but even with those marring his features, he was still quite handsome.
Yes, indeed. There was no question about it, Mandeville posed a bigger threat to him finding happiness with Lydia than James Newson did. Newson was a mere annoyance, someone that Lydia had chosen to vex him with, but Mandeville, Mandeville could throw a rub in the way and completely shatter any chances he had with Lydia. He truly was a man worthy of her hand. He could steal her heart, and whisk her away. While the popinjay didn’t have a title, he was in line for one. He was the second son of the Earl of Ravensbourne. Richard hadn’t kept up with that family, though he had heard that Mandeville’s older brother had married, and for all he knew Viscount Astley now had issue. Mandeville’s fortunes however, were shrouded in mystery. Richard knew that Mandeville was no longer pandering to his father’s demands and the generous allowance he’d once been indulged with might have dried up by now. In the grand scheme of things that didn’t really matter. Lydia was not obliged to marry for money. Her dowry could provide well enough for both her and her husband.
“Let us go and have a nice refreshing cider, Jamie.” Mandeville made him uneasy, and whilst he was a likable enough chap, the two of them could never be mates if they were both vying for Lydia’s hand. He’d be his rival until Lydia’s hand was won.
Richard had an advantage that Mandeville lacked. He had a history with Lydia, and knew all her secrets; as far as Richard knew, Mandeville only knew that Lydia was a lady in disguise. Of course, he was working entirely on supposition, but Mandeville looked at Lydia as if he saw right through her, and Richard prided himself on being an expert on gestures of the body, and that man communicated quite clearly that he knew exactly what Lydia hid from the world.
“Oh, yes, lets. And we can have some jellied eels, too. If a serving maid comes by, she just might fetch some for us.”
“You can have jellied eels, I’ll have the cider. I confess I’m still quite full from my evening meal.” Lydia was probably starving. She’d sat and picked at every course during dinner. At the time, he’d attributed it to her state of nerves, now he knew she’d been holding out so she could sample the food at the fight.
They were making their way to the hawkers’ stalls when he caught sight of Lord Eden. He’d expected to see the king over seeing Lord Eden. It caught him completely off guard to see the rather straitlaced man at the fight. Lord Eden was serious to the point of always being prepared for a funeral. If he hadn’t been born the son of a peer, undertaker would have suited him quite well. Richard searched his memory, and failed to find a single recollection of ever seeing Lord Eden smile. Eden looked tempted to keep walking. He, too, seemed a little furtive to be discovered by Richard. Lydia, on the other hand, was scared out of her wits. She was close chums with his sister-in-law, Miss Eliza Dalrymple. She let out a very unmanly shriek, and stepped behind him, using him to shield her from Eden.
“Upon my word, Tisbury, it is you,” Lord Eden said. “Fancy meeting you here of all places.” He was in quite an affable mood. He almost looked jolly. “And who is that with you?” Lord Eden squinted, and tried to look around him. It was all for naught, though, Richard made quite a good knight without armor when he wanted to be one.
“My companion is, well, an old friend of mine—he’s an old friend of the family. He’s recent to London, and asked me to be his guide.” Lydia was lucky that Richard was quick witted and used to thinking on his feet. He could create cover stories in mere seconds.
“New to London, eh? The fellow looks a trifle worn out. Well, then, introduce us, Tisbury.”
Richard cleared his throat. “He is someone of little to no consequence, Eden.”
Eden was undeterred. The man was becoming a blight upon them.
“Now, now, Tisbury, old chap, I shan’t give up until I’ve had a proper introduction.” Eden was proving to be more than just a blight, he was proving to be a proper pain in the arse. Men of his standing didn’t usually beg for introductions when it came to their social inferiors, and as Lydia was wearing fashions so out of date, she did fit the part of Eden’s social inferior.
Meekly, Lydia stepped out from behind Richard. Defeat etched across her features. While she believed herself to be ruined, Richard suspected otherwise. Eden wasn’t exactly a man possessing a keen intellect. He was a likable enough fellow, he just wasn’t what one would call a clever clogs.
“My apologies, Eden. My friend is rather…reserved.”
“Not at all,” Eden said.
“Lord Eden, this is Jamie…Poole.” He winced at the last word. Lydia had created a mess that was consuming all of them. If she’d wanted an identity without any holes in it, she should have let him create it for her.
“A Wiltshire lad, as well?”
“Aye,” Richard said.
“I feel as if I have seen you before from somewhere. I just can’t place where we met,” Eden remarked, rubbing vigorously at the top of his walking stick.
“You might know Mr. Poole’s uncle.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Aye. His uncle is Sir Simon Blount.”
“Indeed. I do believe we are acquainted. He’s a fine fellow, indeed, and known for his eccentricities. I suppose you inherited them, Poole, along with your uncle’s old clothes.”
Lydia made an indignant noise that she quickly strangled. Richard resisted the urge to chuckle. Lydia’s Banbury stories were taking on a life of their own. She’d stoked the flame, and if she weren’t careful, she’d set her whole world on fire.
“Have you made your bets, yet, Tisbury?”
“No…I should find the banker and…”
“Aye, you should. And you, lad, you should go and make a wager as well, mayhap fortune shall smile upon you and you can go to T
isbury’s Savile Row tailor and have him make you a suit that fits.” Again, Lydia made a shocked little noise. Eden continued to scrutinize Lydia. “Now I know where I saw you last. You were the lad who got into that frightful fight with Lord Longworth’s son. I had to hastily set my bet, and do you know, I chose the winning side? You made me quite the tidy sum that night, Mr. Poole. You have my gratitude for that service.”
“I think we should be moving on, Eden. I’m sure you’d like to return to your companions.” He smiled at Lord Eden, and glanced over at the two women who were waiting patiently for him. Trollops. And it was being witnessed by Lydia. Of course, this wasn’t the first time she’d had her eyes opened to the seedier side of life. What else had she willingly exposed herself to? Splendid. How would he explain any of this to her brother? They were knee deep in scandal, he could only pray that he and Lydia could remain untainted by it.
“Ah, yes, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea, old chap. They…these, um, ladies aren’t mine. They…well, I am merely settling a few debts for my father-in-law. He’s here somewhere but I seem to have lost him in the crowd. He does have a tendency to wander—and his wandering worries me, he tends to find more trouble that way—trouble leading to more debt for his family.”
“My lips are sealed, Eden. Mum’s the word. Have a good night.” They nodded at each other, and he reached for Lydia and pulled her along with him.
“Do you think Lord Eden was telling the truth?” she asked, after they’d left Eden behind. “He doesn’t seem like the sort, but I’m learning that those who seem like the sort, aren’t usually, and the other way around.”
“I do not believe those harlots belonged to Lord Eden. Lord Dalrymple is rather well known for his hankering for ladies of that particular persuasion.” Richard couldn’t believe they were having this discussion. Coming to an event like this had already opened her eyes to some of the darker ways of the world that were kept from proper young ladies.
“You shan’t ever mention any of this to anyone, do you understand?”
Delightfully Dangerous (Knights Without Armor Book 1) Page 4