Chapter Thirty-Two

Penelope couldn't keep still. All morning, she'd paced from one window to the next, one room to the next, watching the front drive, all the while knowing Niles wouldn't be returning for hours. But he would return. She refused to believe otherwise. People died in pugilist fights, but he wouldn't. People were horrifically injured, but he wouldn't be. He wouldn't.

"Boxing matches are a bit frowned on," Violet said, finding her at yet another window, "but they aren't technically illegal. And the local magistrate helped plan this one, so the Gents won't find themselves in a dangerous situation there."

The ladies had been told the Gents were attending the bout, but Niles's participation hadn't been revealed. And it wasn't Penelope's place to tell them.

"I have heard these pugilist events can turn to mob rule at times," Penelope said. "I will feel better when he— they —have returned. Safe."

Violet gave her arm a squeeze. "You don't need to pretend with any of us that Niles isn't special to you. We all know, and we all wholeheartedly approve."

"I wish my brother did."

"He came to England ready to sign the marriage agreement with Niles. He must have approved of him then."

"Yes, but he was not very approving when he left here."

"Of Niles ?"

Penelope shook her head. "Of me ," she acknowledged. "Of my hopes for resecuring the match with Niles, which Liam thought impossible, and of my determination to keep Fairfield, which he thought an arrogant and foolhardy dream."

"You realize, of course, that if he had a brother showing such determination to secure a good match and save his estate, he would be unspeakably proud."

That was undeniably true. "Were I a man, I would be applauded."

Violet gave her an encouraging look. "And even if your brother does not choose to be proud of you, perhaps especially if he doesn't, you should be proud of yourself. You've managed what very few could, and that gives you ample reason to believe you can weather the storms ahead as well."

Penelope hadn't really thought of that. So many of her plans had proven ill-conceived and had needed to be abandoned. It could be difficult to remember how much she had accomplished.

"I did purchase a horse yesterday," she said.

Excitement pulled Violet's eyes wide. "I saw it in the stables this morning. Penelope, that might be the most gorgeous horse I have ever seen."

That elusive feeling of pride swelled in Penelope's heart. "Finding the stallion at the Hamblestead fair was a remarkable spot of luck. But recognizing the enormity of what I found and having the means to take advantage of it was the result of a lot of years of very hard work." When had she ever acknowledged all the effort she had invested in the future she was reaching for? "And still, being here to attend the fair rather than on my way back to Ireland was the result of holding fast to what I know to be right."

"And that, my dear friend, is inarguably commendable."

"Have I thanked you and Kes enough for all you've done to help me?" Penelope hoped they knew how grateful she truly was.

Violet squeezed her hand. "You have thanked us, and we are happy to be in a position to help. You are one of us now, Penelope. And we would move mountains for each other."

"Julia warned me that once a person is made part of this group, she is part of it forever."

"Objections?" Violet asked.

"None."

After a quick hug, Violet left Penelope to continue her vigil. And it was not many minutes later that a carriage arrived, a Pledwick Manor coachman up top.

Thank the heavens.

She rushed to the entryway, reaching it in time to see the Gents flood in. Niles was not with them.

Aldric was nearest, and she pulled him aside. "Where is he?" she asked in a worried whisper.

"Wilson is bringing him in through a side door. We're attempting to keep today's events a secret from the staff."

That made sense, and the logical nature of the arrangement eased her concerns.

"To his room?" she asked.

Aldric nodded.

It was all the direction she needed. Penelope did her best to move with an aura of ease and nonchalance, not wishing to draw attention, all the while her heart begging her to speed her steps. Aldric would not have been so casual if Niles were horribly injured. And they would have remained in the village, taking a room at the inn so the local doctor could see to him.

She told herself all those things as she made her way up the stairs and down the corridor, but she didn't feel entirely reassured.

The door to his bedchamber was closed. She knocked, holding her breath as she waited.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, and Wilson eyed her from the other side.

"Is he here?" she asked, unable to keep the tone of pleading from her voice.

The young man smiled back at her. "I told him you'd rush to his side." He pulled the door open the rest of the way and motioned her in, then closed the door behind her.

Niles was sitting on the bed, looking the other way. She couldn't tell from this distance or vantage point how bad off he might be. Niles's valet stepped into view. Penelope froze. The staff weren't meant to know what Niles had been up to. Feeling a bit frantic, she looked at Wilson.

"Marston knows," Wilson said.

The valet smiled and dipped his head. "A good valet knows how to keep his employer's secrets, and I assure you, I have kept this one for years."

Feeling better on that score but not entirely relieved, she continued her walk to the bed, where Niles sat. She walked around to the far side, the direction in which he was looking. That he was upright seemed to her a good sign.

He turned his head a little more as she approached. What was it he didn't want her to see? His hands rested on his lap. His knuckles were split and bruised. Penelope sat on the edge of his bed. She very carefully slipped her hand beneath one of his, holding it without touching the wounds.

"Niles?" She spoke softly but made certain she didn't sound pitying or horrified. She knew him well enough to realize without being told that he was attempting to spare her while also worrying that he'd cause her grief.

"I'm a sight, Penny." Niles likely didn't realize how relieved she was simply to hear him speak. The words were a bit muffled, yes, but they were sensible and the sentence complete. She'd worried that his mind might be addled by a few too many powerful blows.

"You promised me you wouldn't get mutilated," she said. "I need you to prove to me that you didn't."

He kept his face turned away. "I believe the word I used was mauled ."

"It amounts to the same in the end."

He didn't look at her.

"I know boxing matches aren't gentle affairs, and I don't expect you to look as though you've been for an invigorating ride through the countryside. I simply need to know the state of you, to be reassured that you are relatively whole."

Still, he hesitated.

"Niles, please. You're worrying me."

"I was trying to avoid worrying you." He turned toward her at last.

She made a quick accounting: a blackened and swollen eye, a gash on one cheek, a bruised nose, a split lip. And even at all that, she breathed a sigh of relief, one he seemed to misinterpret.

"I warned you I looked ghastly."

She touched his uncut cheek, gently because his whole face must have hurt. "You look far better than I had imagined. Better than I had feared."

"Your imagination must be incredibly vivid. Or morbid."

"Let's just call it morvid ."

It was good to see him smile, however tiny the expression. He took hold of her hand, the one touching his face, and lowered it, clasped in his, to his heart.

"I have debated all day," she said, "whether I was more frustrated that ladies aren't permitted to attend pugilistic contests and are, therefore, left to fear the worst or more grateful because it meant not seeing you get hurt."

"Have you reached a conclusion?"

She scooted closer. "If I'd had to watch someone punching you, I'd have been hard-pressed not to march into the box or ring or whatever it is called and start throwing a few punches myself."

"We'd need to work on your technique first."

He was lucid and witty, speaking with the difficulty one would expect from a person whose face had taken a beating but without the misery that would come if his jaw were broken or he'd lost a great many teeth. And while his eye was swollen, it was not swollen shut.

Her perusal of his face led to a sudden realization that she had missed an alteration in him so significant that she began to doubt her powers of observation. "What happened to your hair?" It was cut quite short.

"Hair that is long enough to grab hold of is a significant liability in boxing."

That was surprising. "Is holding one's opponent by the hair permitted?"

"There are very few things that are not."

It sounded as brutal as she'd heard it was. Still, he had emerged relatively whole.

She looked at Marston, who was gathering strips of linen and what appeared to be jars of liniment. "His injuries are all ones he will recover from? I needn't be worried that something horrible is soon to come of this?"

"He'll be a touch miserable for a few days," the valet said. "But he'll entirely recover."

Penelope's heart at last eased. She wasn't going to lose him, and he wouldn't suffer endlessly for that day's bout.

With her most pressing concern addressed, she needed to know the outcome of the fight. The winning purse was enormous, significant enough that he would be very close to having money enough to purchase an estate near Fairfield. It would cut years off the amount of time they needed to wait to begin their lives together.

She turned back to her beloved Niles. "Did you win the fight?"

He hesitated for the length of a breath. "I didn't." He sounded genuinely ashamed. "The Bath Butcher is legendary. Not the very best boxer in the kingdom but a better one than I am. I did warn you of that. I fought very hard, Penny. I really did."

She lifted one of his battered hands to her lips and gently kissed a comparatively unscathed bit of it.

"I don't want you to be disappointed in me," he said quietly.

"I never could be, Niles Greenberry. You fought, quite literally, for the chance for us to build a life together. You did it knowing the odds were not in your favor. That is something I could never be anything but enormously proud of. You are remarkable. Don't you ever doubt or forget that."

"Seems a gentleman ought to keep a lady around who says things like that to him," Wilson said.

"You're not meant to speak out of turn, Wilson," Marston was quick to say. His eyes darted to Niles. "Even if what you are saying is entirely true."

Niles smiled at Penelope. "And she let me steal some of her Cornish fairings yesterday. How could I resist keeping her?"

"I purchased a few more fairings from the stall before leaving the fair last evening."

"I will now be sorely tempted to steal them from you."

It was good to hear him jesting. He was in obvious pain, and losing his match must have weighed heavy on him, but he wasn't drowning in his struggles.

"I might be willing to allow you to have some fairings, no stealing necessary. You would be paying a forfeit for them, of course."

"A steep forfeit?" Niles probably would have smiled at her if the two men weren't fussing with his face so much.

"I would think of something worth the exchange."

"In other words, I wouldn't be stealing but rather paying for the privilege of claiming my fairing crumbs."

"We need to get plasters on his cuts and bruises," Marston said, taking up position at the side of the bed. "The sooner we do it, the better they'll heal."

"I can help with the plasters or anything else that is needed," Penelope offered.

But Marston shook his head. "Some of the wounds that need tending are not accessible if he's to stay decently clothed."

She wouldn't insist that his dignity and privacy be violated, no matter how desperately she wanted to stay there with him.

"Do you both vow to take exceptionally good care of him? He means the world to me."

"Of course, Miss Seymour," Marston replied.

"We will," was Wilson's promise.

Penelope lightly kissed Niles's less-injured cheek. "Rest, my dear."

"You'll come look in on me again?"

"I'd like to see anyone try to stop me. I was taught how to deliver a powerful punch, after all."

Confident that her darling Niles was well looked after, Penelope slipped from the room.

She softly closed the door, then took in a quick breath. Her heart was racing with a promising possibility that had quite suddenly occurred to her. If this unexpected idea proved a good one, it could change everything.