“Bella…” he rumbled again.
“Ben,” the other man called from behind Benedict’s shoulder. “He’s got another round in him.”
Benedict took a deep breath, then released it sharply before dropping a kiss to Eliza’s forehead. “Don’t move. Either of you,” he ordered, as though Eliza were capable of movement, of anything at all. Overwhelmed. She was overwhelmed by him, that greeting, the pandemonium in the room, the bruising along his flank.
He turned to his friend, a ruddy cheeked fellow of about thirty, also half dressed. His musculature rivaled Benedict’s. Perhaps a fellow boxer. “Stay with them, West?”
The man, West, nodded, reaching out a hand for Benedict’s shirt. Instead of stripping it, he shook his head and stepped into the makeshift ring.
His opponent stood, half slumped over, clutching his wrist.
“Bella,” the man purred in a familiar greeting. “And you must be Miss Wayland.” Eliza nodded. Her expression must have been questioning because he continued. “Cannot get the man to talk about anything else. I’m afraid to say you’ve left him tangled up in knots, Miss Wayland.”
“Feel free to be elsewhere, Weston,” Lady Arabella snapped, tone frigid.
West chuckled, a bemused smile settling across his face as he turned to the match at the bell. “Charming as ever, Bella.”
“I’ve no wish to charm you.”
“And yet you manage it all the same. Now, please don’t flatter me with your smiles and coy looks. A man could get ideas.”
This West was not at all put out by the gentle lady’s cruel words and peevish tone. Rather, he seemed bemused. This was only the second time Eliza had seen Lady Arabella look anything other than precisely composed. The first having been moments earlier at the sight of Benedict’s back.
“I gave you no leave to have thoughts about me at all.”
“Oh, well now that I know I do not have permission... no more lascivious thoughts.”
“No thoughts at all—it should be an effortless task as it’s your natural state.”
His chuckle was unimpressed as he turned to Eliza. “Do you know the rules, Miss Wayland?”
“More or less.”
Benedict dodged a weak fist and landed a hit on the man’s shoulder, but it was a glancing blow.
“This round, he’ll finish it. He’s been off tonight. But he has new motivation…”
Off. Distracted. Because of her?
“He’s not throwing many punches,” Eliza noted.
“Ben isn’t the strongest, but he has stamina. Usually, he’s fast enough to evade most strikes—a bit sluggish tonight—but takesthe ones that get passed like no one I’ve ever seen. Don’t suppose you know why he’s off tonight, Bella?” There was a pointed note to his question that Eliza couldn’t quite parse.
Bella sniffed, turning her attention pointedly to the match.
Eliza winced when the other man landed a hit on Benedict’s side.Heshowed no reaction other than to step back with that foot. The man stumbled at the unexpected shift.
“Hook him, Ben! Finish it!” Weston shouted before turning to Eliza. In a more sedate tone, he added, “If it were me, he’d have been down fifteen rounds ago.”
Benedict had endured more than fifteen rounds ofthis? Boxing was a brutal sport; she understood that intellectually. But such barbarity… It was cruel.
“This is— Is it always like this, Mr. West, was it?”
He nodded. “Miles Weston, but you can call me West, everyone does—save Bella. Ben is… distracted tonight.”
“Not over…”
West chuckled, offering her a bright smile. “Don’t worry your pretty head over it. It’s Ben’s problem to sort out.”
