Yet, Verity only saw James. Her nights were no longer beset by terrible nightmares. All dreams led to James’s kisses and sometimes eccentric charm. Charms he would use to woo a lady of quality. With a scowl, Verity dismissed thoughts of James courting another lady, and opened a copy of a gothic which she had plucked earlier from his extensive library. The clock on the mantle struck, and she glanced up. It was almost nine. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she lowered the book as the door opened.
“Forgive my tardiness,” he said brusquely. “I had another matter to attend.”
“James is all well?” she enquired, noting the slight stiffness in his frame.
He raked his fingers through his hair, and there was an air of anger surrounding him. “Well enough. I believe we should allow for this lesson another time. It is already too late.”
She stood, frowning at his dismissive manner, and moved closer to him. Verity stared at his hands. “Upon my word, James, you are bleeding!”
She hurried over to him and grabbed his hand, lifting it for her inspection. With rough irritation, he pulled it from her. “It is nothing!”
“I can’t for the life of me conceive why you are acting so boorish,” she snapped sharply. “Please tell me what happened?”
“I was in a fight,” he replied with curt incivility.
“And?”
A scowl darkened his face. “There is no more.”
Verity dropped his hand with an irritated huff, ambled to the mantle and poured whisky into a glass. Once back at his side, she reached into his top pocket for his handkerchief. “You have worn my patience very thin already, please be more forthcoming.”
“There is a man, Lord Newsome…”
“Viscount Newsome?”
“The very one,” James said dryly. “Last week he met in a carriage accident. He was reckless and drunk, driving at an alarming speed. A woman was killed. He was at the club today, laughing over the matter.”
Verity gasped. “I cannot credit such abominable behavior!”
“He was next in the fighting pits, and I went in and challenged him. After calling him a stain on humanity. I thrashed him soundly.” He glanced down at his bruised and bleeding fists. “I did not even take the time to wrap my hands. Sometimes I wonder if I seek any excuse to fight. I’ve not needed the money made from such fights in more than three years. But I find myself returning over and over.”
She lifted his knuckle closer to the lamp, dipped the handkerchief into the whisky, and dabbed it on the torn flesh. A hiss of pain slipped from him, but she did not slow her ministrations, cleaning away the blood. “Do you wish to stop? Fighting that is?”
He considered this, his eyes shuttering. “Whenever I step in the ring, there is always a wave of anger in me…it feels dark, a living entity, and being in the ring, somehow suppresses it. I crave the pleasure of tangling with an opponent who is worthy.”
“You have too much honor and kindness in you, James, for me to believe you only fight for the thrill of it.”
He peered down at her with a surprised mien.
She cleaned away all the blood from his hands and rested the cloth and empty whisky glass on the table, before facing him once more. “Do you think I have not seen your character? You have enfolded me under your protective wings, forlittlein return, because in your heart you are already a gentleman. And I suspect you know it, James. You helped me simply because you want to see me bloom," she whispered achingly. "What manner of man acts like this? One who has honor and courage, and all the fine qualities my papa would say were tip-top."
“How are you so sweet?” he demanded gruffly.
“I eat a lot of delicacies and cakes.”
A snort sounded. “You are also silly. But I like it.”
“Somehow I am gathering you believe this to be flattery?”
“Yes,” he retorted, without an instant’s hesitation.
“It's the most absurd and inelegant compliment,” she agreed mischievously. “My lessons are failing.”
He thought for a few moments. "Your eyes are as brown as mud butprettier. Your lips are as thick...”
Verity choked on her laughter. “Thick? We have spent so many hours reading Lord Byron, John Blunt, and…and…” she broke off giggling.
“Oh? What is this delightful, girlish laugh I hear?” Then he acted as if he caught the sound and placed it over his heart.
