“I’m done. I’m done.”
Robert leaned near his ear. “If you speak ill of my wife again, I will do my worst. Of that you can be assured.”
Griffith only glared as he stood with the help of his valet, who then ushered him to a chair. He immediately wiped his neck with a cloth while his valet offered him a drink.
Robert heard feet pattering behind him and he turned to be greeted by Louisa’s glowing smile. “You were marvelous,” Louisa said, putting her hand on his shoulder as she pulled him around to fully face her. She didn’t even flinch at the sweat coating his skin.
“Thank you.” His breaths made his chest rise and fall. Boxing was both an exhilarating and exhausting sport.
“I admit I was a bit worried at first, but then you became . . . fierce!” She laughed, still gripping his arm.
“I was afraid you being here would be a distraction. And it almost was.”
“Well, I hope you get over that fear, for I want to attend every match from here on out.”
He began shaking his head. “No, I do not think that wise—”
“Why not?” Her brow scrunched. “It was invigorating to watch, and I promise I will keep quiet. Besides, now that I know about it, you shall have a difficult time keeping me away.”
“I feared as much.” He sighed, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lip. “All right. Let me get cleaned up and we can get ready to head back.”
“There are no other matches today?” Her shoulders sagged as her face fell.
“No. We only do a match at a time. Less chance of being caught.”
She clung to his arm, following him to his seat where his articles of clothing lay. “I suppose that makes sense. But now that you have won, what happens?”
“It is a bracket system. I can show you the drawing when we get home.” A feeling much like Griffith’s fist in his stomach assaulted him.Home. Their home.
“Yes. I should like that. I will call for some tea and those macaroons you like so much.”
You like so much. He stared down at her, wanting very much to wrap his hand around her waist and kiss her brow. Or perhaps her lips. Or her throat . . . he scuffed a hand over his face.
“Yes. That is a good plan.” He reached for a towel draped over the chair, mopping his neck with it.
“Here.” Louisa took it, dabbing along his back. All he could do was awkwardly stare at Norman standing before him as the young man kept his face still, pretending not to notice. He even caught Griffith leering at him as he held Lord Fulton’s outstretched hand in greeting. Robert finally decided to just stare at the floor for everyone’s sake.
Louisa handed him the towel back. “Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat as he wiped his brow. She seemed so caught up in the excitement that it did not occur to her how her actionsmight be construed, though everyone else in the room seemed to notice.
“Do you desire a drink?” She went forward and took his bottle off the floor, handing it to him.
“Careful, or you shall make Norman useless here.” He grinned, taking the bottle and guzzling the last of its contents.
She looked back at his valet with a smile. “I should like that very much, actually. Then I may attend the rest of your matches.”
“I may not always win,” he pointed out. He almost didn’t today.
She shrugged. “That does not matter, though I very much doubt it.”
“I cannot promise you will be able to attend another. Griffith seemed quite put out with you being here.”
“Griffith can stuff it.” She crossed her arms. “What do the other men think?”
He gazed about the room at the other lords, who stood about, talking with one another. “I will have to ask, though I imagine they would agree.”
“That I am not interfering and should be allowed to attend?”
“No,” he said, fixing her with a stern gaze. “They will likely agree with Griffith.”
