That was the life I’d chosen.
Success. Increase. Comfort.
Why, then, did I still feel so unsettled?
Why could I not flip a coin and remove every worry, every anxiety and uncertainty? A woman’s engagement ought to be the happiest season of her life. But I felt as though I had been robbed, and I was suddenlyangryin the most unladylike manner.
I stared at Mr. Winston’s chin. Then I met his eyes. They were brazen under serious eyebrows. His full lips parted, and I again noted the cut on the corner of his bottom lip. He nodded as though to encourage me. I focused on his open palm, tightened my fists, and imagined the feeling of every frustration pouring out of me.
I reared back my arm, tensing every muscle within it.
At the same moment, Benjamin snorted.
Mr. Winston lowered his hand as he cast a silly grin over his shoulder at the same moment I pushed my fist forward.
Right into his jaw.
ChapterEight
For a moment, I felt no pain, only shock and fear and a pang of guilt. Then came the burning and aching in my knuckles.
Mr. Winston held the side of his face, which had to feel even worse than my fist, and cleared his throat.
“Mr. Winston, forgive me,” I rushed forward, breathless. Why had he turned? Why hadn’t I waited?Why had he dropped his hand?“I am so terribly, terribly sorry. I aimed for yourhand.”
Ben moved between us, seemingly unsure of who to aid first. His mouth formed an O, and his eyes were just as shocked as mine surely were. What had I done?
Mr. Winston stretched out his jaw and rubbed his cheek with his thumb. There were a million thoughts behind his eyes. “How is your hand?”
I stayed behind Ben and stretched out my fist. “Well enough. How is your face?”
He stretched out his jaw again and rubbed his left side. “Handsome as ever.”
Ben chuckled, his eyes gleaming as though he was in the presence of some sort of hero.
“For one so small, you landed a heavy blow,” Mr. Winston said with a sideways glance at me.
I looked down at my hand. “Truly?” The pleasure in my voice was all wrong. “I mean, very good, then. I’ve mastered it. We are finished here.”
“Come, now,” Mr. Winston said with a little pout. “You must give me a chance to retaliate.”
Ben rubbed his hands together. “Yes! Excellent! Second round!”
“Benjamin!” I exclaimed.
“The sun is barely in the sky. We have plenty of time.” He nodded toward Mr. Winston, who handed me a pair of gloves. The very same kind I’d seen on him before. Then he handed a new pair to Ben. There were no finger holes, save one for the thumb. They were padded and well-worn.
“Mufflers,” I remembered.
Mr. Winston grinned. “You’re a real pug now, Miss Newbury.”
I drew in a little breath. “I most certainly am not.” Though the sweat dripping down my back felt anything but ladylike.
“Bare-knuckle fighters sometimes use mufflers for training. They will keep those delicate hands safe. Make a fist, if you please.”
I stepped back. I’d given Ben more than enough of an adventure to warrant a check next to number three. “Benjamin, it is your turn. You heard him. Make a fist.”
“Ros.” He pushed me forward. He’d started tying on his own glove. “One last time, I swear it. You owe as much to poor Mr. Winston after landing him a facer.”
