Jane struggled to find her breath and her words. To break the spell of this moment somehow. At last she turned to frivolous flirtation, always a refuge with this man. She slipped her hand away from his and said, “I know. Everyone does.”
He smiled a little at her playful response. “How could they not? Truly, Jane, do come. I’ll need saving from the fops at the very least.”
She arched a brow. “You? The Dragon needs saving from a bunch of ladies and gentlemen in frilly costume?”
“The Dragon isn’t allowed to respond like he would in the ring,” Ripley replied with a laugh.
She sighed again and then nodded. “For you and for her, I’ll be there. I’ll send word to them today.”
“Good.” He inclined his head slightly. “And now I must get back to my club before Brentwood allows them to have full brawls in the middle of the main ring.”
She smiled at the mention of Ripley’s right-hand man. He was a serious sort, so the idea that he’d let those who trained there do anything wrong was laughable. “Oh yes, wouldn’t want that to happen. Good day, Ripley.”
He moved to the door and gave her a little bow. “See you soon, Janie.”
Her heart fluttered at the endearment he sometimes used. Fluttered even more as she watched him walk out her door, down the street through the shop windows with that casual grace that flowed through his big body. And though she would see him again in just a few scant days, she still felt the little ache that always tightened her heart whenever he walked away from her.
The one that she feared would bring her to her knees in the end, no matter how carefully she avoided that outcome.
Brentwood was conducting lessons with a group of gentlemen when Ripley returned to the club. From his hard expression as Ripley came through the main chamber, his friend was irritated.
“Keep the hands up and continue,” Brentwood said as he ducked under the rope of the ring and started toward Ripley. “You’re late.”
Ripley laughed. “Sometimes it’s unclear to me who is the boss in this scenario.”
“No, it’s not,” Brentwood said, and there was the faintest hint of humor in his dark eyes. “But you should know that the Marquess of Honington is waiting and he isn’t amused at your tardiness.”
Ripley rolled his eyes. “I’d say he could take it out on me in the ring, but the man has been taking private lessons for over a year and has yet to perfect a right that does anything beyond a tickle.”
“I might not open your conversation with the gentleman that way,” Brentwood said. Ripley shrugged from his jacket and began to loosen the knot of his cravat. Brentwood watched him for a moment through narrowed gaze. “You’re dressed rather nicely. Where did you go exactly?”
“Checking up on me, eh, Mother?” Ripley said, and pulled the long length of the cravat free. He placed both on the back of a chair and stripped off his shirt.
As he tossed it on the pile, Brentwood said, “Were you off with Jane, then?”
Ripley glared at him before he took a seat and began to unfasten and remove his boots. “I was asked to take care of something that had to do with her, so yes.”
“She hasn’t come around as much since the Hellion retired.”
Ripley flinched. Hellion had been Esme’s fighting name. “No, I suppose she hasn’t.”
“But you can’t stay away.”
Ripley rolled his eyes. “I swear, a man makes one little drunken statement about a completely understandable attraction and his friend can’t let it go.”
“Because it isn’t about one drunken statement,” Brentwood said. “And you know it.”
Ripley let out a long breath. “What do you want me to say? Jane is living her life, I’m living mine. We both keep a distance beyond what can barely be classified as a friendship. That’s the end of it.”
“I’ll remind you of that next time you’re in your cups spouting bad poetry about the beauty of her hair.”
“Fuck off, Brentwood,” Ripley said with a chuckle that belied the sting that statement left in its wake.
Brentwood shrugged and returned to his group and Ripley tried to pull himself together as he approached the red-faced marquess who awaited him in the smaller ring in the back of the room. The man looked truly irritated to be kept waiting, so perhaps he’d actually swing when they sparred today.
And if Ripley knew anything, it was that the feel of taking a punch could sometimes ease the ache of a broken heart. He looked forward to it.
CHAPTER 2
