“I do not mind.”
“Excellent,” she responded, already looking around for a place to set her reticule. “Do you think I should remove my pelisse? Will it impede movement?”
He had not moved. “You wish to learnnow?”
She froze in the act of setting down her bag. “Oh, yes. But if you have something else to do, it can wait.”
He watched her, his intent stare causing a bubbling of sorts in her chest. He suddenly tore his eyes away. “No, now is perfect. I only intend to show you the basics. Now will do as well as any time.”
“Wonderful,” she said, though it came out a little slow; she did not fully believe him that now was perfect. But he moved aside a bust and lifted a small table out of the way, so he truly must mean what he’d said. She pulled off her pelisse, putting iton the table he’d moved. A slight chill in the room sent goose flesh down her arms. That or the way her arm brushed his as she stepped back. No, it was definitely the chill in the room. Positively frigid.
Lord Berkeley did not remove any items of clothing, for which she was grateful, but he now stood in the middle of the hall in a relaxed stance. It was positively masculine, and her eyes traced the breadth of his shoulders and the way his coat strained across his arms until he spoke.
“There are seven rules agreed upon in modern pugilism, but many of them have to do with the mechanics of a fight, so you need not know them. All you need to remember is that you never hit a downed man, even if he is just on his knees.”
Lydia nodded, keeping her eyes trained on his—with effort. “Understood. I will not hit you after I’ve caused you to fall.”
His lips twitched at that, but his serious, nearly scholarly expression soon returned. “Many consider boxing to be a brutal sport, but it is more than that—it is a science. Not only that, it is also productive for both your mind and body.”
Against her will, Lydia’s eyes trailed back down Lord Berkeley’s shoulders to his waist before she snapped them back up. Not trusting her voice just then, she nodded.
“First you will need to find equilibrium in your stance.” He moved into an easy position with his knees apart and one leg forward. He leaned a bit toward her, arms up.
Lydia mimicked the stance and held herself stiffly as his eyes ran down her form. Her chest grew warm with the attention.
“Close, but you want to keep your stomach out of reach from your opponent. And move your left leg forward more.” She adjusted, and he nodded. “Yes. Like that. Now, your upper arms will be used primarily to stop head blows; your forearms, for face or stomach blows; and your elbows parry blows to your ribs.”
She tried to absorb all the information. “Does it hurt terribly to be hit?”
He shrugged, an action far more relaxed than she would have thought possible for him. “Not in the moment, usually. But the goal is to get hit as little as possible.”
“And do you attain that goal often?”
“Often enough.” His lips lifted in a crooked smile, and it did strange things to her heart. So she refocused on the lesson.
“What do I do next?”
“A fine flush hit is preferred to anything else. Keep your arms like this and your thumb here.” He demonstrated, and she repeated.
“Try tucking your elbow in more.”
She tried again.
“Ah, perhaps...” He trailed off, studying her with a hint of amusement in his expression.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
“Well, yes, in all honesty.”
“But I am doing exactly what you are.”
“I certainly hope I do not look like that when I fight.”
She raised a brow both in defense but also in surprise at his thinly veiled insult. She would not have thought him capable. Her hands dropped to her sides. “What am I doing wrong?”
He hesitated but then came out of his own stance and over to her side. Lydia held her breath, trying not to allow the proximity to affect her. She was not particularly successful. Maybe this little lesson was not so brilliant after all.
He stepped up close beside her, hands pausing for a moment before they reached out to her. One hand wrapped around her, grasping her opposite elbow and sending tendrils of warmth up her arm that made it hard to focus. “Here, hold this closer to your side.” His other hand found her wrist. She swallowed at the contact. “And turn your hand like this.” He rotated her fist withlight hands. His breath swirled the hairs around her ear and sent a shiver down her spine. The entire side of her body was now growing warm, and without thinking, she attempted to throw another punch.
