“I assume all went well in my absence.”
Brentwood nodded. “Just the usual. Toffs doing their practice, trying to show off for one another on the whole. Some of the professionals getting ready for arranged fights. There’s a new one you’ll probably want to look at, he has potential. Should I arrange a meeting?”
“Yes,” Ripley said. He always tried to see the ones he thought he could help. Just like in the lightskirt trade, there were too many bad actors in the fighting game. At least if Ripley assisted the young ones, he knew they wouldn’t be taken advantage of. “But not this week. I won’t be here.”
Brentwood held his stare a moment and then nodded. “I see. More business with Miss Kendall, I assume.”
Ripley shifted before he meant to do so and realized he’d just moved into a fighting stance. Probably because he felt protective of Jane and he knew now what she thought Brentwood’s feelings were about her. “Yes.” He folded his arms. “She believes you don’t like her.”
Brentwood let out a long sigh. “Of course I like her. She’s impossible not to like. I admire her strength and her loyalty to Esme.”
“All that is true,” Ripley said. “And yet I sense a but.”
“But…” The hesitation that came before the next words felt like an eternity. “But you love her, mate.”
Ripley stepped back and deposited himself on the edge of his worn desk. He stared at Brentwood, a man he’d known since his fighting days. He was the closest person he had to a best friend, but they rarely spoke of personal matters. It wasn’t in either of their natures. And Ripley had spent a lifetime trying to cover up his emotions. He was very good at it.
Except now it seemed he hadn’t been.
“Have I stunned the Dragon into silence?” Brentwood asked softly. “Or are you just considering where to punch me?”
“The Dragon was known for his strong silence,” Ripley said with a flinch. “I’m not him anymore.”
“I was sparring with Walter Mandy earlier. He still can’t keep that left up. He’s going to get his bell rung if he fights anyone with a brain.”
Ripley wrinkled his brow in confusion. Was Brentwood changing the subject to be kind? “I’ll remind him when I’m in the ring with him next.”
“I’m sure you will.” Brentwood folded his arms. “What do you say when a fighter has a persistent weakness?”
“It’s dangerous,” Ripley said. “You need to train it out because it’s a tell that becomes too easy to read for any opponent. A way past the guard that could end you.”
“She’s your weakness, mate. Far larger than any you had when you swung your fists for a living.”
Pushing off the desk, Ripley turned away to stare at the disorganized papers stacked there. He didn’t see them, he just didn’t want to be so exposed while he pondered that statement. “Perhaps she is,” he admitted. “Are you saying I need to train her out?”
“Not necessarily. Not if you don’t feel it’s dangerous.”
Ripley choked out a laugh. Of course it was dangerous to love Jane. It was hopeless, most likely. He’d always known that with every wall she erected to keep them from being close. Making love to her hadn’t changed that, just made it all the more painful.
“But you do need to know the weakness exists so that you can protect yourself.”
Ripley faced him and forced a tight smile. “You needn’t worry about me,” he said, though he wasn’t certain that was true. “Just keep the club going.”
“I will.”
“And if you think this new one you talked about is worthy, offer him a place with our others. I trust you.”
Brentwood’s brows lifted at the suggestion Ripley had never made before. It meant something and they both knew it. “I will.”
Ripley gathered some things. “I’ll update you on my timeline and if I need any assistance. Your carriage is back, thank you again for the loan. I’ll let one for the trip, as I don’t know how long we’ll be gone and I don’t want to deprive you. I need to go arrange that and some other things now.”
He clapped Brentwood on the shoulder and then headed for the door.
“Be careful,” his friend said as he reached it.
Ripley gripped the jamb and turned back with a wide smile. “I never am.”
Then he stepped out and back through the club toward the unknown. But Brentwood’s words rang in his mind. He feared they would for a long time to come.
