Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

After over a week of peaceful silence, the basement and card rooms of Fortune's Den rang with shouts and boisterous laughter. The contenders had arrived, their complex mix of accents resonating through the corridors like the out-of-tune notes of a symphony. The percussion came in the form of clinking tankards, slamming doors and the thud of clenched fists on the tables.

Arguments erupted. Taunts led to punches out of the ring, with some men taking their grievances into the yard.

For Aaron, the event should have roused the feeling of being home, the deafening racket drowning out thoughts he preferred to keep locked away.

But not tonight.

While he stretched his muscles and waited for Aramis, his mind was consumed with the beautiful woman lounging in his bed. "You need to dress if you want to watch me fight. Perhaps you'd prefer to remain here and pretend I'm still the hero of your dreams."

The muscles in his abdomen twisted into knots.

A fighting pit was no place for a woman .

He'd hurt any man who laid a hand on her.

But that's not what scared him most.

Joanna came up on her elbows, the bedsheets slipping to reveal her bare breasts. "I'll dress when you leave. I don't want you to know what I'm wearing."

She spoke like he couldn't find her in a crowd and wasn't attuned to her scent or the sound of her breathing. Every part of him wanted to climb into bed beside her, talk, sleep, make love, and share a picnic supper like they had for the last three days.

For the first time in his life, he had been selfish, letting Delphine and Dorian take care of Mrs Lowry and Lucia, leaving Daventry to deal with the magistrate. While his family breathed deep sighs of relief, thankful their troubles were over, Aaron still had a major problem to overcome.

"You must focus on the fights, Aaron, not on me."

"I wish I could say I'll be a tamer version of myself." His gaze moved from Joanna's lips to her breasts and the rosy nipples begging for his mouth. "But a part of me will always be broken. I will always need to be the ruler of my domain."

She knew not to get out of bed and distract him. "Is anyone truly whole? Life leaves its imprint on us all. It's a cycle of healing and rebuilding. It should unite us, Aaron, not tear us apart."

Her wisdom and ability to accept people, not judge them, were two of the many reasons he loved her. Still, he couldn't shake this crippling unease, the fear he would lose everything tonight.

"Do you know what they called me in the ring as a boy?"

"No, you've never said."

"I thought Aramis might have told you." His brother had sat with her for two hours at the Thames Police Station while Aaron gave his statement.

"No, we spoke about the future."

"They called me Satan's Spawn or Lucifer's Lackey." When a man was called something for so long, he was inclined to believe it. "As you'll see tonight. I have something of the devil in me."

She swallowed deeply but seemed determined to drag him out of the mire. "As we all do when we're pushed to the limit. That's why it's important to discuss our thoughts and feelings."

Whatever he said, her balm took the pain out of the sting.

"Shall I tell you what I'm thinking?" He didn't wait for an answer. "If I stare at you for much longer, I'll not make it to the first bout. It's cold. You should dress before you catch a chill."

"Focus on winning your fights, and forget about me."

How could he forget about her? She was his last chance to forge a new life, his last chance to escape his father's legacy. He loved her with every fibre of his being. The love for his family was unaltered. This was a different feeling—a deep intimate connection like they shared the same soul.

A sudden knock on the door startled them both.

"The fights have begun," Aramis called.

"I'll meet you downstairs." Aaron turned to her, not wishing to keep secrets or lie. "I need to tell you something before I leave. It will affect the future and what happens once I've fought tonight."

Joanna yanked back the bedcovers and crossed the room, looking more concerned than intrigued. "You're not sending Lucia away? Mr Daventry assured you no charges will be brought against her. We would never have known about Natasha's plans had Lucia not confessed."

"Joanna," he said, clasping her arms.

But she couldn't quite catch her breath. "Lucia is guilty of asking a man to buy a watch, another to steal a dagger. She doesn't deserve to hang."

"She gave her mother the murder weapon," he reminded her.

"Yes, but she was scared out of her wits. She risked her life to save you. Oh, Aaron, she's just a girl who?— "

"Joanna," he said softly. "I'm not sending Lucia away. She will live with Delphine at Mile End. It's all arranged. Rothley spoke to the magistrate on Lucia's behalf."

"He did?"

"Yes, I can't get rid of the man."

"Gabriel wants to help. He despises injustice."

Aaron owed Rothley a debt he could not repay.

The marquess had forced Fitzpatrick to make a statement, confessing he had offered Howard money to ruin his sister. Howard had declined. Rothley found the anonymous letter Natasha wrote—urging Howard to come to The Jade—stuffed down the side of the seat in the lord's carriage.

"That's not all Rothley has done." Aaron inhaled deeply, shocked the words were about to leave his lips. "I have an audience with the King tomorrow." He prayed he wasn't nursing a broken nose and bruised eye. "Rothley will accompany me, as will Daventry and the Home Secretary."

Joanna stared at him, swallowing like she stood at the edge of a forest at night, afraid to take the path. "You intend to ask His Majesty to grant you the earldom?"

"I am the rightful heir. As I have the money and the means to restore the estate, I have every reason to believe he'll accept. I must make a formal submission to the House of Lords, but that's merely procedure."

"But what about Fortune's Den?"

"I shall keep my share of the business but appoint a manager to help run the club." He wanted to say more, to drop to his knees and ask her to be his countess, but she needed to see him fight, and he needed permission from the King before proclaiming himself the earl.

"How will you watch me from the window if you're living in Mayfair?" she said, offering a sad smile.

He slipped his arm around her waist. "I won't need to watch you from the window if we share the same bed." He placed his finger on her lips before she offered reasons why that was impossible. "Wherever I am, I want you with me. Now, you must decide if you feel the same."

Aramis returned and knocked again. "They're waiting for you."

"I'm ready." If he didn't leave now, he never would. "I must go, or my opponent will win by default."

"Don't get hurt," Joanna said, hugging him so tightly her breasts were squashed against his bare chest. "Fight like your life depends on it. I'll be waiting for you, to talk and tend your wounds."

"How am I supposed to hurt men when I'm anticipating the feel of your hands on my body?" A cockstand would hinder him in the ring. Indeed, Joanna would be the death of him, quite literally.

"That's simple. I'll only sleep here tonight if you win."

He smiled, though the primal urge to claim her, to have her living with him, sleeping with him, made him want to put a torch to The Burnished Jade.

"Daventry will be your chaperone during the boxing event. You'll wait here until he comes for you. I don't expect you to watch more than one fight, but remain with him at all times." He kissed her on the forehead, not the lips. He needed hatred burning in his veins, not this potent blend of lust and love. "I must go before the contenders grow impatient."

"Be careful," she called.

"I will," he said, closing the door behind him.

Aramis pushed away from the wall and uncrossed his arms. "Are you sure you want to fight tonight? I can take your place. It would be an honour."

Aaron gripped his brother's shoulder, reassuring him. "This may be my last fight in the ring. I need Joanna to see what I'm capable of when pushed to my limits. I just pray I don't lose her. "

Aramis knew not to argue. "Joanna is an incredible woman, the wife you truly deserve. She would never leave you—why would she? To me, there's no man greater."

A lump formed in Aaron's throat. "And you're everything a man could want in a friend and brother, but unless you want to see me beaten to a pulp, I suggest we dispense with sentiment. Tell me something to get my blood boiling. Spar with me while we're talking."

Aramis laughed and raised his fists. "Two-Teeth O'Toole is here. He's calling you Dandy of the Den. Said he heard you've gone soft over a woman."

Aaron thought love would weaken him, but it was empowering.

One fought harder when there was something to lose.

"You'll tell everyone I'm the Demon of the Den." Aaron swayed and ducked to miss Aramis' skilled jabs. "A fact I'll prove when I win my first bout."

"I'm sure the name will become popular in the salons if the King grants your request tomorrow. You'll have the lords of the ton quaking in their boots."

Aaron smiled to himself. "All I need do is throw a lavish ball that meets their approval, and I'll have them eating from the palm of my hand."

"An earl with a fist of steel will be a tour de force." Aramis jerked from a jab to his chin. "Have you told Sigmund you plan to make him the manager?"

"I thought it best to wait until I've spoken to the King."

"Amongst the corrupt peers, you'd be a refreshing addition to the House of Lords. We'll still hold their vowels. Indeed, interesting times lie ahead."

Christian mounted the stairs, panting like he had raced around the perimeter of Hyde Park. "You're fighting next against that neckless fellow from Manchester. Remember, his left knee is weak, and he'll try to trick you into overreaching. Sigmund has stopped taking bets until the first round is over but says we'll make a fortune tonight."

Aaron straightened, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. "Is there bad news? Something that might spark my temper?"

"That beast from Hungary won. Gustav is through to the next round. He's told everyone he's taking the purse home tonight."

The need to prove Gustav wrong lit a fire in Aaron's blood. "Does he still have a habit of leaning forward if he's convinced he'll hit the mark?"

Christian nodded. "Always when he throws a right hook."

"Anything else?" Aaron said, moving towards the stairs.

"Yes, Rothley is here. He said if you lose tonight and are knocked out cold, he will kidnap Miss Lovelace and take her to Gretna Green."

Aaron firmed his jaw against the inner inferno. "Like hell he will!"

The knock on the bedchamber door came as Joanna finished pinning her hair into a bun. Her hands shook as she tightened the belt on her peacock-blue dress. The closed neckline and modest collar would help to avoid unwelcome male attention, though she planned to linger in the background, not take a front-row seat.

Mr Daventry wore black and greeted her with a warm smile. "Are you sure you want to visit the basement? They're particularly wild tonight. A walk through the hallway should convince you the fighters are savage."

Avoiding the basement was not an option. If she didn't witness Aaron acting like the beast he claimed, he would always hide that part of himself .

"Nothing compares to being in the marshes on a foggy night with a lunatic threatening to kill the man I love." Joanna doubted she would ever feel that afraid again.

"It takes a brave woman to fire a pistol knowing the shot will maim," he said, offering his arm.

The memory chilled her to the bone. "It takes a desperate woman. Bravery was never a factor. I'm sure Sybil would fire if your life were in danger."

Mr Daventry gave a proud hum. "Without hesitation."

Since she rarely spent time alone with the gentleman, Joanna asked the questions she found puzzling. "Were you interested in matchmaking before you met Sybil? Is it your mission to rescue all men from bachelorhood?"

He arched a curious brow. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Please, they say you're the most intelligent man in London."

"One need only attend a scientific lecture to know that's untrue."

"So you have no interest in helping couples fall in love?"

He clutched his chest like the idea was ludicrous. "Have you read the broadsheets of late? Crime is on the rise despite the new police force. I barely have time to sleep, let alone play the matchmaking matron."

"I took you for an honest man," she said, trying to provoke a reaction. "A champion of the truth."

He laughed above the din downstairs. "For argument's sake, suppose there's truth to your claim. Perhaps I'm trying to save men much like myself."

"Men who've clawed their way out of the darkness?"

"Men who've yet to experience the beauty of loving someone."

As they descended the stairs, she considered how Mr Daventry might have manipulated events. An instance sprang to mind, the subtle suggestion that Joanna could depend on Gabriel more than she could Aaron Chance. The gentle nudge to persuade him she should live at Fortune's Den.

Mr Daventry hadn't made them fall in love.

He'd given them space to discover the truth for themselves.

"One wonders who's next on your list," she teased.

"You have a club full of unmarried ladies," he replied before insisting she keep a firm grip on his arm as they entered the basement. "In the game of love, I tend to favour the outsider."

"A wallflower might be considered a misfit."

"And rogues often make excellent husbands."

"I quite agree," she said, thinking of Aaron, though judging by the rowdy men watching the boxing bouts, she might be mistaken.

Spectators lined the stairway, filling every bench, wall space, and inch in between. Men crammed into the large room like cargo in a merchant's hold with nary a hair's breadth between them. Candles flickered in iron chandeliers and wall sconces, yet the room felt like a dungeon—dark and oppressive, where only the lucky escaped alive.

Joanna put her finger to her nose and tried not to breathe. The stench of stale sweat overwhelmed her. "It will be impossible to push through the crowd."

"I suggest you watch from here," Mr Daventry said, ushering men from the stairs, "unless you want to sit with Rothley."

She followed Mr Daventry's gaze to where her brother's school friends occupied front-row seats. Gabriel sat with Lord Rutland, Mr Dalton and Mr Gentry, though the latter didn't look like the professional physician who gave lectures on medicinal remedies. He was in his shirtsleeves, the bloodstained lawn rolled to the elbows to reveal muscular forearms.

The pain of her brother's absence cut deep, a stark reminder Justin would never join them again. While Gabriel was a friend, the other men were acquaintances. Still, they had all been affected by Justin's passing .

"Gentry is the doctor in charge tonight," Mr Daventry said, explaining what she already knew. As a viscount's grandson, Mr Gentry didn't need to work but had personal reasons for tending the sick. "He's already dealt with numerous fractures. One man might lose an eye."

"Don't say such things when Aaron is about to fight."

She watched Aaron enter the ring and pace back and forth like a panther on the prowl. Every honed muscle exuded strength, every movement pulsing with raw power. But who was his opponent? The relentless wait left her restless.

"Aaron mustn't see me."

"We'll hide behind those men." Mr Daventry gestured to the group hogging the lower steps. "You should still have a reasonable view."

Seconds passed as the crowd chanted, "Demon of the Den."

Nausea roiled in her stomach. She wanted to scream and shout, "That's not who he is!" The urge to cry a river of tears had her asking to borrow Mr Daventry's handkerchief.

"This is Aaron's second fight," he said, handing her the silk square. "He floored some fellow from Manchester with one punch."

She closed her eyes, wishing the hands of the clock moved at ten times the speed. The obscene jeers and cruel taunts added to the roar of chaotic disorder.

Aaron remained composed, though she had never seen his eyes look so hard and black. She had never seen every line on his face etched with hatred.

An icy chill ran through her when his opponent entered the ring.

"Gustav! Gustav!" a few men cheered.

Gustav towered almost a foot above Aaron. He looked like he'd spent his life in the stone mines of Gaul and could withstand a hit from a trebuchet.

Tears rolled down her cheeks when Gustav threw a punch .

Aaron ducked and delivered a powerful uppercut to Gustav's abdomen. He was quick, moving with a speed that confused his opponent. Gustav lunged again and took a hit to the face, sending a line of spittle flying into the audience.

Aaron snarled while delivering punishing blows. His sculpted torso glistened with sweat as he circled the giant, landing sharp jabs to Gustav's ribs. He goaded the crowd, raising his bloodied fists and demanding their cheers like a predator basking in his kill.

Who was this arrogant devil who thrived on brutality?

Who was he punishing? His father? Himself?

She recalled Aramis' advice to remember how it started and to think about what it meant to be invincible.

That's when she saw the frightened boy pitted against the beast. The boy who'd taken one knock after another and was still standing. The man who'd sworn never to let anyone hurt him again.

"I've seen enough." She tugged Mr Daventry's coat sleeve. "Can you escort me to The Burnished Jade?"

Mr Daventry jerked in shock like he'd misjudged her character and this was never part of his plan. "You're going home?"

"Yes. There's something I must do."

He tried to defend the savage display. "Men have fought and hunted for centuries. Aggression is in our blood. It's how Aaron saved his family from a life of poverty."

"I'm not judging him. And I'm certainly not abandoning him."

She wouldn't attempt to fix him, either, because Aaron Chance was not damaged or broken. He was a survivor. And survivors were meant to be imperfect.

"Loving someone isn't shaping their character to suit yours," she said, not that Mr Daventry needing reminding what love meant. "Loving someone is granting them the freedom to be themselves. "

Mr Daventry looked relieved. "He'll wonder where you are."

"I shan't be long."

Joanna didn't look back as she mounted the stairs and left the basement. Cheers for the Demon of the Den said Aaron had won and would fight in the next round.

The storm outside reflected the current state of affairs. Rain hammered the cobblestones and soaked her in seconds, washing her worries away. The violent rumble of thunder embodied Aaron's battle between the past and the present.

Mr Daventry ushered her into The Burnished Jade, rubbing the cold from his hands, and suggested lighting a fire.

"I'll be ten minutes, no more," she said, hurrying upstairs.

It was dark, but she knew what she wanted. Two tokens she would present to Aaron when she explained what loving him meant to her. She found the first amongst her paste jewellery, the second in her nightstand, tucked inside the paper pocket of her diary.

She was staring at the armoire, wondering whether to pack more clothes, when she heard Aaron call her name. The woeful cry was loud enough to shake the heavens. The shout rang with the pain of a man who was lost.

"Joanna!"

She hurried to the window and looked out onto the street.

Aaron stood outside Fortune's Den, wearing nothing but tight breeches. Rain dripped from his coal-black hair. Rain drenched his bronzed skin, running down his torso in rivulets.

"Joanna!"

Their gazes locked, though his eyes swam with fear.

She raced downstairs and was outside in seconds. She didn't ask what he wanted or question why he was standing in the rain.

"I'm here," she cried, throwing herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly she could barely breathe. "I'll always be here."

They kissed, a wild, passionate kiss, their mouths crashing together, a rampant mating unhindered by the rain .

"You left," he said, panic still marring his voice as he clasped her face in his bruised hands. "I shouldn't have let you watch me fight."

"I'd seen enough. I couldn't stand there waiting for someone to hurt you. I went to The Jade to collect something important."

He kissed her again, a kiss as fierce as it was desperate. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd driven you away." He dashed raindrops from her cheeks. "Ignore what I said earlier. We can leave London tonight. We can live at The Jade if it makes you happy."

She gazed into his eyes, knowing he would move mountains for her. "You waited in the rain for me. You've shown me what it means to love someone. Let me do the same."

She reached for his hand and placed the onyx sovereign ring in his palm. "It's a gift but not for you. You'll merely be the custodian."

He frowned, confused.

"It's Justin's ring." She didn't mention it was found on the body in the woods. "It belonged to our grandfather, and I want our first-born son to have it. That's assuming you'll ask me to marry you and stop alluding to the possibility."

"You know I'd marry you in a heartbeat."

"And this is my solicitor's card." She placed it in his palm, too. "Don't worry if it gets wet. We can acquire another when he draws up our marriage contract. Our first-born daughter will inherit The Burnished Jade when she comes of age. Until then, it's mine. I made a vow to help my ladies, a vow I intend to keep."

Aaron smiled, a slow smile that curled her toes. "I love you. When I'm dry and dressed, I'll ask the question?—"

"Ask me now."

Aaron didn't hesitate. He dropped to one knee in the rain. "Marry me, Joanna. Be my colleague, my friend, my lover, my wife. I'll try to be the man you deserve. "

"I would be honoured to be your wife, Mr Chance." Tears welled in her eyes. "You're more than I deserve. You're everything to me."

They spent the next minute kissing passionately, a little too passionately, because it sparked a fever in her blood.

"And one more thing," she said, unable to resist stroking his noticeable bulge discreetly. "I like you in tight breeches. Wear them when I come to your room tomorrow night."

His voice was low and husky when he said, "I need you tonight. I have the key to your club. I've often sat in my study, imagining you luring me into your bed at The Burnished Jade."

She touched him again because she couldn't help herself. "Let's pray you want me with the same fervency when we're married."

"I'll want you every damn day of my life."