Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I t had been a week since Finn’s encounter with the mystery woman at the Donville Masquerade and he’d been trying to forget her ever since. The encounter had been brief, after all. It hadn’t led to any pleasure. There was no reason for thoughts of her to enter his head. For questions about her injury to make him pace the floor at night.

And yet he’d found himself thinking of her more than once, pondering why she’d called him my lord and wondering if he would ever see her again.

“Finn, are you going to drink your tea? It’s getting cold,” his sister, Marianne, said, reaching across to cover his hand gently.

They were seated in her parlor at her home and he forced himself to stop thinking about inappropriate things and focus. “I’m sorry. I’ve just a lot of my mind.”

Her expression softened. “I understand that.”

He leaned closer, examining her face carefully. She looked tired, her brown eyes that were so like his were sad. “I know it’s been difficult for you lately,” he said gently. “With the loss of Claudia.”

She stiffened slightly at the mention of her late friend and nodded. “It has. It’s difficult for such a thing not to make you examine your own life. To make you question…I don’t know, question everything.”

He pursed his lips. She wasn’t wrong. How could one not ponder one’s place in the world under such circumstances?

“You have such a long face,” Marianne said with a frown. “Are you well, Finn?”

He forced a smile. Thanks to unreliable and often cruel parents, the two of them had never had anyone but each other. The old habits of defending each other, worrying over each other, died hard. Perhaps it was good that they never did.

“I’m fine,” he said, and didn’t quite believe it. “I’ve been thinking about our upcoming trip to the country and also about upgrades to the estate in Delacourt.”

He’d also been obsessed with a certain young woman from a sex club, but there was no way to bring that up to an innocent spinster of a younger sister. And what would he say at any rate?

But she knew nothing of those thoughts and instead leaned closer as they began to discuss both their trip and the estate. And he found his mind was eased, at least for a while, though the discomfort that had haunted him recently still sat in the background, waiting. It would find him again soon enough.

H e entered the boxing club an hour after he’d left his sister, trying to shake off continuing troubled thoughts and found it was crowded. Of course it would be—the exhibition match between the Hellion and Betty Lightly was that day. Despite the complaints of some members, it seemed they’d all come to watch the show.

He edged his way into the crowd, moving toward the front and the large ring now set up in the middle of the room. Ripley stood in the middle, talking to two young women.

“Look a little small to be champions,” one of the men around him said.

“Naw, that’s their corners,” someone else answered. “Look at that blonde one. I’d love to go a round or two with her.”

The two laughed and Finn turned his nose up in disgust as he moved away to find some more pleasant company. He found it when he saw the Duke of Northfield closer to the front.

He moved toward the man. He’d gone to school with him and they’d always been friendly. Plus, the man knew how to throw a punch. He had to be respected either in or out of the ring.

“Northfield,” Finn said as he reached him.

“Ah, Delacourt, good to see you,” Northfield said as he shook his hand. “It’s quite a crush. Looks to be an excellent match.”

“Indeed,” Finn agreed. “Have you seen Ramsbury?”

“No. I don’t think he’s here.”

Finn wrinkled his brow. Sebastian had said he’d be coming today. He hadn’t thought his wild friend would miss this kind of exhibit, but he’d been so strange lately. Breaking appointments, acting odd when they spoke. He’d been closed off, distracted, sometimes it felt like he refused to meet Finn’s eyes. It seemed everyone in his world was out of sorts and Finn didn’t like it.

Ripley came to one unoccupied corner of the ring and posted up on one of the ropes. “Gentleman, let’s quiet down. Today you get a real treat, so I hope you appreciate it. We get to observe two of the greatest women in the business doing what they do best.”

“Are you sure it’s what they do best?” came a lewd voice from the crowd.

Ripley’s mouth thinned and he stared out into the chuckling group with steel in his stare. He said nothing and the laughter faded. Once it had, he said, “Are you finished?”

Silence greeted him and he nodded. “Good.” His tone shifted to something a little different, rather like a barker at a fair, trying to draw the crowd in. “First, let me introduce Betty Lightly. She’s a bruiser from Cornwall, one of the finest in her class.”

From the back of the room behind a curtain, a woman came. She was dressed in a long, simple blue gown that was sleeveless with leather corset tied tight at her waist. Her dark hair was bound back in a severe style and her crooked nose spoke to the fact that she’d taken more than few blows.

There was polite applause from the men before Ripley continued, “And our second fighter is new to the game, but oh so impressive. She’s undefeated and mysterious as hell. Welcome the Hellion.”

The applause was louder now as the men craned their necks to see the second woman come out from behind a different curtain. She pushed it back and exited. Unlike Betty, the Hellion’s face was covered with a red leather mask that matched her red sleeveless gown. She, too, wore a leather corset at her middle, which only served to accentuate lush curves.

Finn stared, not because she was beautiful, which she was. Not because she had confidence and power as she entered the ring and turned, arms outstretched, to show herself to the crowing men.

He stared because he instantly recognized her. She was the woman from Donville the week before. His captivating Miss X who had walked away from him without even a backward glance. It explained her black eye, but he remained astonished by this information.

“Your mouth is open,” Northfield said with a chuckle. “She is a beauty, one can hardly blame you. Though I vastly prefer my lovely wife.”

Finn shook his head, brought back to reality by the friendly ribbing. “Indeed,” he muttered.

In the ring, Ripley held up a pound mark in each hand. “The rules are simple. Each woman will hold a coin in her fist. The first to drop their coin twice loses the battle. Has everyone placed their bets with Brentwood?”

He motioned to the assistant at the club, who nodded toward Ripley.

“Excellent. Then…” He handed each lady her coin and the two shook hands before they gripped the coins. “Fight!”

Finn leaned forward, holding his breath as the two women began to circle, their hands raised, fists clenched. As his shock faded, he truly took in the Hellion. She was more relaxed than her opponent, at ease with the ring. When Betty Lightly swung on her, she stepped back, blocking the blow with one hand while she threw her own with the other and connected with the other woman’s midsection.

The crowd around him let out a little cheer and he jolted. He kept forgetting that he was in the middle of a room full of practically drooling men. Even the ones who had complained about bringing women to exhibit were leaning forward, eyes wide as they ogled. He frowned and then put his attention back to the women.

The Hellion threw another punch and connected, this time with Betty’s chin. It sent her spiraling back a step and she sneered before she lunged and the two grappled for a moment. But the Hellion seemed unbothered and threw her off to bounce off the ropes around the ring before they reset in the middle of the space to circle again.

The men were settling as the fight continued, becoming more interested in the battle than the women. When the Hellion landed another punch square on Betty’s jaw, a cheer went up and when Betty regained her footing and lunged forward to land her own punch on the Hellion’s midsection an impressed ohhhhh went through the crowd.

All through it, Finn kept his gaze firmly on the Hellion. She was powerful and elegant in her moves, almost like she was dancing rather than plodding forward like her opponent did. But when she punched, it wasn’t playful or light. That was borne out when she hit Betty again and this time the other woman stumbled to the mat on her backside and the coin she clutched in her fist came bouncing out onto the surface.

Finn joined the crowd in a roar as Ripley rushed in and picked up the coin. “The Hellion takes the first point!” he declared.

Betty was cursing up a storm as she and the Hellion went to their respective corners. The Hellion had a slender blonde woman on her side who gave her a sip of water and wiped her brow. They talked for a moment, strategizing, it seemed and then Finley rang the bell and returned the coin to Betty.

The Hellion rolled her neck and shoulders as she approached the center of the ring. Betty came forward with more malice this time, clearly annoyed that she had been bested for the first coin drop. But her anger was not her friend. Finn found himself twisting along with the Hellion, using his body to will her to dodge as Betty threw her weight into the first punch. The Hellion stepped out of the way with ease and managed to land a punch in her opponent’s side.

They grappled again and he could see the annoyance in the Hellion’s expression at the stall tactic. An annoyance that only increased when Betty shot out a leg and kicked her hard in the shin.

“Oy, we don’t do that here,” Ripley called from the side. “This ain’t the street, Betty.”

It seemed the Hellion didn’t need the intervention, though. She shoved Betty back and then landed a hard shot to her cheek, then another to the other side. It was evident Betty was stunned by the blows, for she staggered, though she didn’t drop the coin. The Hellion threw another punch, snapping Betty’s head back and she fell, hitting the mat. She was stiff and still, but her fist was still clenched on the coin.

“Get her!” someone from the crowd shouted. “The fight’s not over.”

The Hellion shot an annoyed glare toward the person who had said it and motioned to her still opponent. “She’s out,” she said to Ripley.

“She didn’t drop the coin!” another man from the group yelled.

Northfield’s body tensed beside Finn. “The woman is clearly unconscious. I hope she won’t pummel her more.”

So did Finn, but the Hellion was coming toward Betty. He waited for her to rain down another punch, but instead she leaned in, unclenched Betty’s hand and let the coin slide from it to the mat.

Ripley jumped in and raised her hand. “Our winner!”

If the crowd had wanted more violence, they still seemed appeased by the fight. They cheered wildly as Betty’s corner came in and got her sat up. She was awake again, shaking off the cobwebs. The Hellion leaned in and offered her a hand up and Betty took it. They shook before the Hellion made for her corner.

“Hellion! Hellion!” the men were chanting and Finn joined in, impressed by his mystery woman’s talent, as well as her sense of right and wrong at the end of the fight.

She smiled toward the crowd and waved before she ducked out of the ring and headed toward one of the small rooms in the back of the club. Finn nodded toward Northfield.

“It was a good fight,” he said.

“Indeed,” Northfield agreed. “They’re both impressive, but the Hellion is very talented.”

“Very.” Finn glanced toward the room where she’d gone. He very much wanted to speak to her, to see what she would do if she saw him again, this time without a mask. Would she acknowledge she knew him from the club?

Would she explain why she’d addressed him as my lord like she knew him. Would the heat between them be the same when they weren’t at a notorious sex club?

“Excuse me, will you?” Finn asked.

When Northfield nodded, he slipped away, moving through the surging, excited crowd around the ring. It was quieter in the direction where she’d gone and no one seemed to notice as he ducked behind the curtain Ripley had set up for the introductions and started down a short hallway toward the rooms in the back.

E sme drank deeply of the draught of cold tea that Jane had set before her and grunted as her friend rubbed her shoulder muscles roughly to keep them from locking up after the fight. The mask she had removed from her face bounced on her leg as Jane did so.

“That bitch kicked you,” Jane said with a laugh.

Esme laughed too. “She did. I’m going to have a hell of a bruise on my shin, I wager. But she got the worst of it. She was up when I went back, though, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Such a soft one,” Jane grunted. “Always worried about the opponent.”

Esme shrugged. “Betty isn’t so bad. She’s talented, too. Why should I hate her for trying to make her life? I’m no different.”

Jane smiled at her softly before she said, “Ripley said there were a great many wagers before the fight and that I could collect your percentage from Brentwood after. Will you be well back here if I go do that?”

“I think so,” Esme said. “I couldn’t see my friend from Donville in the crowd, and I think most of the toffs in the crowd are more interested in talking to each other than lowering themselves to me. Go get the money.”

Jane patted her shoulder and then ducked from the room. Esme heard the door behind her close and sighed before she drank more of her tea. It had been a good fight, but perhaps she should have tried to drag it out more, put on a bigger show. Perhaps she even would have allowed Betty to make her drop her coin to give the fight more drama. But the moment she’d been kicked, she’d just wanted it to be over. To protect herself.

She sighed. “Letting emotion reign. Foolish girl.” The door behind her opened again and she laughed without looking. “That was quick, Jane. How much was it?”

“It’s not Jane.”

She froze at Delacourt’s voice behind her, just as recognizable as it had been that night at the Donville Masquerade. She grabbed for her mask and tied it before she got up and pivoted on him.

“You shouldn’t be back here,” she said as she looked at him.

The night at the masquerade he’d been masked like she was, so this was her first time seeing his full face in years. And he was stunningly beautiful. He was built like a fighter, in truth, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was all hard angles and dangerous lines, but with the most beautiful brown eyes.

Eyes that were now flitting up and down her just like they had at the masquerade.

“I only wished to congratulate you,” Delacourt said. “You were most entertaining.”

She drew in a breath. Most men would have said that with a lewd double meaning, but even though it was clear Delacourt was looking at her with interest, he wasn’t disgusting about it. He seemed to truly respect her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “My lord.”

A slight smirk quirked the corner of his mouth. “That is the second time you have referred to me by title. I’m beginning to feel at a disadvantage.”

She straightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He tilted his head. “Do you not? Are you going to deny that you met me days ago at the Donville Masquerade, Miss…X. Or do you prefer Hellion?”

She let her breath out in a long sigh and folded her arms, widening her stance just as she did in a fight. “I suppose it would only be a waste of time to pretend as though it wasn’t me at the masquerade that night. And that it wasn’t you.”

“It would be,” Delacourt agreed. “Though if you want to spar and pretend, I’m happy to play the game.”

“I’m sure you are.” She said it quietly but it seemed to hit its mark for he straightened and the smirk fell.

“How do you know me?” he asked.

“Who says I do?”

“The my lording does imply it since I never said who I truly was. Nor have I said it now.”

She arched a brow. “You have a my lord way about you. Most toffs do.”

She waited for him to get annoyed, to scowl at her, perhaps even to demand an apology. But instead he flashed a grin that made him even more handsome somehow. “I see. Well, if you don’t want to tell me the truth, that’s your prerogative. I’ll play along. The Earl of Delacourt at your service, Miss…”

“X,” she said. “You already know that.”

“Very well.” There was still no animosity in his tone. “I do have to say that realizing your blackened eye likely came from sparring or a sanctioned fight, rather than some bastard beating you, is a relief.”

She stared at him. That sounded truthful. He, who didn’t even know he knew her, who thought her nothing more than a gnat beneath his shoe, had actually been concerned about her.

“I told you that night there was nothing to be alarmed by,” she said. “And it’s healing either way.”

“Good.” He stepped closer and she realized in that moment how small the room was. It hadn’t seemed so small before, but he filled it with not just his body, but his presence.

She had no idea what he might do or say and she found herself leaning in, just as she had in Donville. She found herself wanting him like she had that night when she’d convinced herself it was just the location and the moment. It wasn’t. It was him, it turned out.

But before things could progress, there was a knock at the door and then it opened, revealing Campbell Ripley, the owner of the boxing club and one of Esme’s dearest friends.

“Ah,” he said, glancing at Delacourt with his brow wrinkling. “I didn’t realize you had a guest, Hellion.”

Delacourt’s gaze flitted to him and there was a sudden tightness to his mouth before he said, “I was just congratulating the champion. But that done, I’ll leave you two. Good day, I do hope we’ll see each other again.”

She inclined her head and he strode out past Ripley with another quick side glance. When he was gone, Ripley fully entered and shut the door behind him. “Was he bothering you?”

She shook her head. “No. Is he the type to worry about?”

“Delacourt? No. I just didn’t expect to find him here.”

She paced off and removed her mask again, turning it over and over in her hands. “Men like that go wherever they please. I know that better than most.”

Ripley was watching her. She could feel it, but he merely said, “I’m sure that’s true, Esme. Jane has your blunt. I think you’ll be most pleased. You were wonderful, by the way. All they can talk about is your skill.”

She faced him with a smile, pushing away thoughts of Delacourt. “And Betty? She’s well after the knockout?”

He nodded. “She is. More sore from the loss than the punch. She already took her blunt and left. If you want to follow, I can take you out the back so none of them out there will bother you.”

She slid the mask back on once more. “Lead the way.”

She followed him, making small talk as they weaved out into the back alley where her carriage and Jane were already waiting. But even as she spoke to her old friend, she couldn’t help but think about Delacourt. He said he hoped he’d see her again. And she found herself hoping for the same, no matter how dangerous that reality could be.

No matter how much his very presence threatened the delicate world she had built for herself since she ran away from her old life.