Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
" N o!" Violet gasped—and hers was not the loudest cry to echo through the pit at her husband's words.
All around her, women were clapping their hands over their mouths, their eyes wide, while their husbands gazed down at the Duke in shock.
"You heard me, Farrell!" her husband shouted defiantly when the gang boss did not respond.
When Violet looked at him, Farrell had gone very still, and the expression on his face was unreadable.
"Come down here and fight me like a man!"
Farrell shifted, and his expression darkened. "This is a dog fight, Your Grace," he spat out. "Not a boxing match."
"Yes," James snarled, "and I believe that if you are willing to let dogs be hurt and killed for your own entertainment, then you should also be willing to put your own body on the line. Only a coward hides behind animals."
Violet's heart was hammering in her chest.
He will be killed! Farrell is at least a foot taller than him!
Farrell stiffened, and Violet could feel the anger radiating from him.
"Desist with this at once," he shouted. "These good people have paid money to see the dogs fight. They are not interested in watching a bout between us."
The crowd around him let out angry protests, and James smiled. "Don't you hear them, Farrell?" He cupped a hand to his ear. "I think they would prefer to see us fight."
A cheer went up, and Farrell flushed, his anger and embarrassment evident. James flashed a grin at the audience before turning back to him.
"And you owe me a fight," he said, pointing at Violet. "Last night, you broke into the inn where my wife and I were staying and kidnapped my Duchess from right under my nose. All night, I was in agony, sure that she had been harmed, afraid that she might be dead."
The crowd let out more angry shouts, even a few boos, all of which were hurled in Farrell's direction.
"What kind of man kidnaps another man's wife?!" James shouted, and the crowd erupted in loud cheers. "It is unsporting! You and I may have our differences, but you leave my wife out of it!"
The anger in his voice was now clear, and the audience stilled as they took in the pulsating fury of the Duke. He raised a finger and pointed it at Farrell. It felt, to Violet, like a bullet aimed right at the gang boss's heart.
"You have dishonored and insulted me and my wife!" James shouted. "And I demand retribution in the form of your blood, for the distress you have caused me and the Duchess!"
The onlookers leaped to their feet, stamping and hollering. Violet couldn't take her eyes off her husband. He was everything the rumors made him out to be, she realized—the dangerous businessman who could manipulate every situation to his advantage, the powerful Duke before whom others quaked in fear, the leader who could bend the world to his will.
The Devilish Duke.
Her heart was beating very fast. James had never looked so magnificent, so commanding and handsome, as he did at that moment, defending her, demanding justice for the distress caused to her, willing to pay with his body for her honor.
Farrell, meanwhile, was snarling. The crowd was clearly on James's side, and Farrell seemed to know that there was no way out of it. He would have to fight the Duke.
"Very well, then," he said, at last. "I will fight you."
The crowd went wild.
Farrell waved his hand, and the doors opened again, allowing the trainers to lead the dogs back out of the pit. Then he descended the stairs.
James began to undo the buttons on his jacket, and Violet tried to look away but couldn't. Her husband shrugged off his jacket, then his waistcoat, and then, in front of everyone, he began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt.
His forearms were lean, she realized, and when he flexed them, she could see the muscles and veins bulging. In his shirtsleeves only, he looked wild, like a hero out of a romantic novel, his hair messy and his skin flushed with the thrill of an inevitable tussle. The top few buttons of his shirt were open, and she glimpsed his strong, bare chest.
Her mouth had gone very dry. She shifted on the bench, but nothing could rid her of this feeling, like her body was vibrating.
It's just nerves , she told herself.
"Come on, then!" James shouted, jumping down into the pit. He took a couple of practice swings, then flashed Farrell a haughty smile. "What are you waiting for?"
Farrell scowled at him and then tore off his own shirt. He flexed his muscles, and Violet felt herself grow sick. The man was huge . She didn't particularly like looking at his half-naked body, but she couldn't deny that he was strong—so strong that even her tall, broad, muscular husband looked small next to him.
Farrell slid into the pit, and then the two men faced one another.
"Normal rules?" James asked as he began to circle Farrell.
"I don't want none of your posh Eton rules," Farrell snarled. "We'll do this like commoners—first to get a knockout, or for the other to stay down for ten seconds."
"Very well," James said.
He didn't look scared, but Violet felt scared for him. It took everything in her not to cover her eyes as Farrell also began to circle the ring.
For several minutes, the two of them circled each other. James was light on his toes. Several times, Farrell lunged at him, but each time James dodged him easily. He was fast, and her heart rate quickened at the sight.
Maybe he can win this.
"Oh, come on!" Farrell snapped after the fifth time this happened. "Don't just dodge! Fight me like a man!"
But James merely smiled, and Violet realized what he was doing—he was tiring out the bigger, stronger man. He might be smaller, but he was quick and had a high endurance.
"Stop dodging!" Farrell snarled as he lunged at James again.
But this time, James didn't just dodge. He leaned back, as if away from the punch, while at the same time swinging his fist. It landed on Farrell's temple with a surprisingly loud thud , and he jolted backward.
"Aargh!" he yelled, enraged, and then he launched himself at James.
This time, James couldn't escape. He was now trapped against the side of the pit, and Farrell came at him with everything he had. What ensued were several furious minutes of punching and grappling, during which Violet wasn't sure if she could keep watching. Her husband received some serious blows, but he also landed some.
"Please God," she whispered, bringing her palms together discreetly. "Please help him. Please let him win."
And then James managed to find an opening and dart through it. Suddenly he was behind Farrell, with a whole open ring behind him, and he was landing blow after blow.
Farrell, slower to turn, was confused, and he roared with anger.
"Your hold over my duchy is over!" James yelled as he landed another blow on the gang boss's ear. "You are like a sickness infecting this land, but I will draw you out! And in the process, I will cure my tenants of your disease!"
Farrell turned, and the look in his eyes was one of irate hatred. With a burst of energy he hadn't shown before, he rushed forward, quick as lightning, and punched James in the chin, sending him flying.
James landed in a heap on the other side of the pit.
"No!" Violet screamed, but it was drowned out by the crowd's impassioned and angry oohing. Their favorite fighter was losing.
Violet clutched the edge of her seat, willing herself to keep watching. She wanted to turn away, but she had to be strong for James. Tears pricked her eyes, but she still didn't look away.
"Get up," she whispered to herself. "Get up, James!"
The crowd had begun counting. "One… two… three…"
"Get up!" Violet heard herself shout.
"Four… five… six…"
And somehow, miraculously, James was pulling himself to his feet. Just as the crowd reached nine , he was back up again.
His eyes met hers, and she nodded. "You can do this," she murmured, and she knew he had understood her, even from a distance. His eyes flashed with determination, and his jaw clenched.
Farrell looked cocky as he stepped forward again. "Ready to surrender yet?!" he shouted.
James lifted his chin. "Never."
Farrell lunged, and James dodged then landed a hard blow on the side of the gang boss's head. He dodged another swing, then hit him again on the other side. Farrell stumbled backward, and James pressed his advantage. One, two, three, four blows… too many to count! His fists were moving so quickly that they became a blur.
Then he landed one last blow on the gangster's head, and Farrell toppled over. Blood was trickling from his mouth, his eyes were bruised, and his face was purple and swollen as he fell to the ground.
The crowd went wild, screaming with delight and excitement. They began to count again.
"One… two… three… four…"
"Stay down," Violet whispered. Her fingernails were digging into her seat.
Farrell crawled towards the edge of the pit and tried to push himself up, but he fell down again.
"Six… seven… eight…"
He tried once more to pull himself up, but then he looked up at James, who was standing over him, and he seemed to lose his nerve. He crumpled once more, just as the crowd roared, "TEN!"
James had won the fight. Someone rang a bell, and then the onlookers bolted from their seats, rushing down the stands to the ring. Several men climbed into the ring and hauled James up onto their shoulders.
"The Duke! The Duke! The Duke!" they chanted.
James was laughing and smiling, and even though he looked a bit shaken, Violet could tell he was jubilant. As the crowd lifted him, carrying him back to safety, their eyes met.
She knew exactly what the look in his eyes said— I have won them back. Farrell won't be a problem anymore.
And as she watched him, she realized that in all her life, she had never felt as much pride as she did then. Pride not only in James, but also in herself, to be married to someone with moral integrity, strength, and bravery. Someone who would put his life on the line for the things he believed in and the people he was sworn to protect.
"Were you worried for me, wife?" James asked as Violet descended the steps towards him. She was very pale, but she was smiling, her face awash in relief.
"Of course not," she said as she met him at the edge of the pit. "I didn't doubt for a second that you would win."
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better. Even I doubted, for a moment, that I would be able to defeat that man."
"Well, you didn't look as if you had any doubt," she pointed out, and this time, he noticed that her lips were trembling.
She really was scared.
But why wouldn't she have been? Had he lost, it would have been a disgrace for her and her sisters. She was merely thinking of herself.
She wasn't concerned about you , he told himself sharply.
"So… you got your way in the end," a dark voice growled from behind him. James turned to see Farrell being supported between two of his men, staring at him with malevolence. "Just like every other duke before you."
"If you're trying to make me feel bad, it won't work," James said coldly. "You were the one who was running a dog fighting ring and then kidnapped my wife. All my sympathy for you ended after that."
"I can still conduct my business in the duchy," Farrell snapped. "You haven't shut this down."
But James could tell that even Farrell didn't believe that. He took a step towards the gang boss and lowered his voice to a cool, deadly whisper. "You have lost the respect of the townspeople, which means that you are done here. I am going to loan them money to set up their own, reputable, legal businesses, and they will no longer need you. And after I defeated you today, they also no longer fear you. So yes, I believe I did just shut down your businesses. Not to mention that if I wanted, I could have you arrested and tried for kidnapping a noblewoman—and the wife of a duke at that."
The fear in Farrell's eyes was evident, and James took grim satisfaction in seeing the man who had once instilled such fear in him finally brought down.
"Now get out of my sight," he snarled, flicking his hand in dismissal.
The bodyguards didn't wait for orders from their boss. They hauled the gangster away, and James felt a grim triumph as the men disappeared through the doors and out of the arena.
Turning back to his wife, he saw that her eyes had gone wide. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"You can be every bit as scary as the scandal sheets say," she remarked.
"It's a reputation I've cultivated carefully. When you are dealing with scary men, you have to become one yourself," he admitted. "And in large part, I based my persona on Farrell's. He used to scare me as a child. Sometimes when my father visited this town, he used to make me watch when Farrell drowned the dogs—" He broke off, unable to go on.
His throat had constricted, and there was a strange feeling behind his eyes. Like they were burning.
"When you aren't born hard, you have to make yourself hard," he added.
Violet nodded. "I understand that. Sometimes, I wonder how I might have turned out had my father been less of a bully and if my mother hadn't abandoned us when I was young."
It was the first time Violet had ever really opened up to him, and James felt his pulse quicken.
"You think you would have been less reserved?"
"Perhaps." She looked thoughtful. "And perhaps I might have hoped for more for myself. As it was, I assumed my father would marry me off to some awful man. So I never dared to hope for a love match or even a happy married life."
"I'm sorry if I took that from you," James murmured quietly.
While moments ago he had felt his heart hammer with hope, now he felt a wave of guilt wash over him.
"No, you didn't," Violet said emphatically. "I was actually going to say that I couldn't have hoped for a husband who would defend me the way you did today."
James was rendered speechless for a moment. Violet was smiling at him shyly, and he suddenly realized that he would do anything to make her continue looking at him like that.
At last, he found his voice. "You deserve a husband who will do everything for you," he said, then looked away.
Not someone like me, were the unspoken words.
Around them, the townspeople rushed towards the exit, and as they did, several men doffed their caps and bowed, while the ladies curtsied.
"See the look in their eyes?" Violet said as she looked around at them. "They respect you. And not just because you're a duke. But because of what you did today." She looked back at him. "I respect you too, and I think you just might be the husband I deserve."
They smiled at each other, and for the first time since his father had died, James felt something akin to happiness.
Maybe we could be happy. Maybe I am not as evil as my father.
"Let's go home," he said, taking her hand.
Violet nodded. "Yes. Let's go home."