“She said she would follow me if I didn’t take her. I didn’t have much choice.”
Griffith rolled his eyes, tipping his head back. “Typical female. They cannot help but meddle.”
“This is likely a onetime occurrence.” Except, knowing Louisa as he did, he was fairly sure it would be near to impossible to keep her home if she found she enjoyed the experience.
“It better be,” Griffith all but grunted. “What kind of a men’s club is this if women are involved?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to his own valet, readying himself.
Would Louisa’s presence be a distraction? Robert hoped not, but as he dragged his eyes over to her, he worried the answer to his own question was yes.
Norman helped Robert wrap his hands, rubbing his shoulders to help him relax. Griffith did the same with his valet.
Robert shut his eyes, letting go of all distractions. Forgetting Louisa sitting only feet away, his continued confusion about their footing, his insecurities, the disingenuousness he wore when in public. He let it all melt away as he readied for the match.
“Griffith and Boroux to the scratch line,” another man announced from the middle of the ring. He and Griffith went to the center, lining their toes up on the line. And then the bell rang.
They raised their wrapped hands, circling one another.
Because of their rank, and for obvious reasons of secrecy, no facers were allowed, but everything below the neck and above the belt was admissible. Their rules operated off of a point system rather than knocking their opponent out. Or, if thingsbecame heated or took a turn, one could call it off and accept his loss.
A heaviness on Robert’s back reminded him that Louisa was watching. He never wanted to lose, but with her here, a win seemed even more important.
Griffith must have seen the loss of focus in Robert’s gaze, for he shot a hand out, getting Robert on the right side of his ribs in a glancing blow. Robert gritted his teeth, regaining his wits. He would not look like a fool in front of Louisa.
Griffith kept his eyes fastened on him, throwing his hand forward and trying to gain another hit, but Robert deflected it with a swipe of his arm. A few shouts went up from the crowd—one decidedly female. Robert must have shown signs of distraction again as Griffith gained another hit, this one directly on his stomach.
He swallowed a grunt, his gaze hardening on his opponent.
“You seem distracted,” Griffith said, smiling as they rounded each other. “Any particular reason why?”
“Just focus on the match,” Robert said, his voice gruff.
“I would be distracted too if I was bedding a lovely little thing like your wife there.”
Robert ignored the taunt, trying to gain a hit on Griffith’s left side, but Robert’s hit missed as Griffith gracefully spun out of the way.
He tried to focus, settling his breathing and anticipating Griffith’s movements. Griffith got another hit just under Robert’s ribs on his right side. It hurt like the devil, and Robert winced, bending over for a quick moment before forcing himself to straighten.
Luckily, the bell rang, allowing Robert a moment to catch his breath. They went to their respective corners, and Norman offered him a drink as he mopped his neck with a towel. Apparently, Louisa’s presencewasan issue. He had not gained ahit while Griffith’s points were quickly stacking up. And he had assumed this fight would be an easy one.
The bell rang again, signaling them to the scratch line. Robert dared not look back at his wife, for if she appeared defeated or disappointed, his struggles would only become worse.
The men both raised their hands, and the bell rang again.
Robert tried to gain a hit on Griffith’s center just under his ribs, but his shot was blocked again. Goodness, this was an utter disaster. A small part of him had been hoping to impress Louisa and gain some respect from her. Instead, he was missing every shot he took and getting hit himself in the process. And how many more points did Griffith need to win the match? Robert believed his opponent only needed five more hits and he would be the champion.
Robert gained a decent hit just below Griffith’s ribs, then immediately blocked a swing from him. He took the opportunity of his missed swing to get two more jabs in Griffith’s center.
Griffith shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he calculated his next move. Robert blocked one jab, but Griffith came right back and gained a hit on Robert’s right side.
Griffith smiled, circling him like a vulture circles a dead carcass. “Well, Boroux, if your bedding is anything like your boxing, perhaps I could show your wife what a real man is like.”
And just like that, Robert’s world turned red, and he rammed his fist into Griffith’s middle. He could feel the strength of the impact, gaining contact just under the ribs on Griffith’s right side. A perfect hit. Griffith immediately bent in half, his hands on his knees as he tried to gulp in a breath. Robert bent to his ear. “Do you have anything else smart to say about my wife?”
Griffith shook his head, holding his side and wincing as he struggled to gain normal breathing.
The bell rang again, sending them to their corners for thirty seconds. Griffith sat across the ring, staring daggers at him whileRobert accepted a drink from Norman. Griffith kept his hand on his side, wincing as his bottle boy touched the spot where he was hit. As Griffith swatted the boy away, Robert was fairly certain he saw him mouth “I am fine”, but Robert knew what a hit like that could do. It would almost be easier to get Griffith to quit from pain at this point rather than attempt to gain more points.
The bell rang again, and they walked back to the line. Griffith tried to stand straight, but he was still favoring his right side. Robert raised his hands in front of his face, and when the bell rang again, he wasted no time. Robert’s hits quickly began stacking up, his blood pumping and his hands and feet finding their rhythm. It didn’t take long before Griffith shook his head, holding up a palm.
