“Ben,” I said through my teeth. But it was no use. He and Mr. Winston had me cornered like a fox in her hole. Dreadful men. Thank heavens I was marrying up.
Hesitantly, I tucked the mufflers under my arm. I showed Mr. Winston my open hand, and then closed it tightly with my thumb tucked inside my fingers.
“May I?” He motioned to my hand.
I looked to Ben, who stood a few feet away, then nodded my permission.
Mr. Winston gently took my bare fist in his hand, which was rough and smooth and warm all at once. My stomach flipped, and all the anger and frustration boiling within me sizzled out as his fingers grazed along my knuckles and the back of my hand. He tugged my thumb from inside my fist and wrapped it around the outside of my fingers instead.
“There. Now you shan’t break any fingers or wound your thumb or wrist.” His voice was gravelly and deep. “Tighten your fist as much as you can inside the glove.”
His eyes met mine, and I nodded, swallowing.
The mufflers were dense and heavy when I put them on, and Mr. Winston helped me lace them tightly. When he finished, I could hardly lift my hands under their weight. Then he moved to Ben and finished tying his.
Ben raised his hands in front of him, facing off against an invisible foe.
“Make your fists properly,” Mr. Winston said, facing me. “Then give my leather bag your best, Miss Newbury.”
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.
Both men watched me expectantly. If Liza found me here, she’d faint from the unsavoriness of seeing my hands in these manly things. But Ben—I caught sight of him once more—looked happier than he had in weeks. His bright, carefree smile was one I would carry with me.
How hard can hitting a bag be anyway?I extended my arm, putting my strength into engaging the bag. But the mufflers were too heavy, and the bag was heavier still. It barely swayed from my hit.
“Mmm,” I winced, shaking out my gloved hand. “That will do.”
Mr. Winston and Benjamin smirked at each other as though they shared some secret joke.
“Again,” Mr. Winston called.
“What?” I almost laughed. “It is Benjamin’s turn.”
Before I could blink, Ben hit the leather bag with such great force, it swung hard like a pendulum.
“Very good. You win,” I said dully, turning away and stalking off. I held up my mufflers, lace side up. How the devil could I get them off without using my fingers?
“Come now, Miss Newbury,” Mr. Winston stepped to my side. “Don’t you want to fight with me again?”
“You?” I let out a mirthless laugh. I half considered tugging at the laces with my teeth before shuddering at the thought. Instead, I held out my hands. “Untie me, please.”
“This is even more fun than it looks in the papers,” Benjamin called over his shoulder. That samepat-pat-boomI’d heard before reverberated off the leather bag as he continued without me.
“It is far better than sitting behind a desk, is it not?” Mr. Winston grinned.
Ben laughed in response.
“Please do not fill my brother’s head with falsehoods, Mr. Winston. He is grateful for his inheritance and has worked hard for his success.”
“Good,” he said with a smile. “I hope it suits him. Just as I hope becoming a duchess suits you.”
I narrowed my eyes. His words were kind, but his tone said something else entirely.
“I do not doubt,” he continued, “after watching you yesterday at the pond and this morning with your brother, that you can do and be anything you want.”
A sudden urge to defend myself and my choices overpowered me. “I shall.”
“Good.” He shrugged. “You deserve to be happy.”
