“I still think you overreacted about that.”
“Overreacted?” His voice had reached a pitch that he had to admit was quite unacceptable and utterly uncouth. So he blew out a deep breath and leveled his tone. “Her breasts were practically spilling out of that bodice, Mama. It was... unnerving.”
“Hmm...” She said nothing further, just watched him with interest until he muttered something he had to apologize for immediately after. “I thought she looked lovely,” his mother continued, “but that is neither here nor there. We obviously have two very different opinions on the matter.”
“Obviously.”
“The important thing is she caught Burton’s and Lowell’s attention.” The smile that followed was a little too sweet. “Whatever your thoughts about them may be, I am sure she will make a wise choice for herself. What I quite like is that they do not disapprove of her buying that house and turning it into a school. Lady Everly informed me that both gentlemen have made donations in order to help.”
“As have I,” he reminded her with a grumpiness he desperately wished to get rid of.
“Yes, but you were compelled by duty while they were merely being generous.”
He kept quiet while counting to twenty since speaking at that exact moment would probably result in tears. When his blood had cooled a little, he stood and returned his empty glass to the sideboard. “I will wish you a pleasant evening now, as I am going back out.”
“Where to?” She sounded a little alarmed, which was to be expected since he was not prone to going out late at night.
“I cannot say, but this house is too small to contain my aggravation at the moment. A bit of fresh air should do me some good.”
Having shed the fine clothes he’d worn for the better part of the day and replaced them with a plain pair of brown trousers and a jacket to match, Thomas hailed a hackney carriage and directed it toward Seven Dials. From there he walked the remainder of the way to the Black Swan Inn, locating it easily enough on account of all the noise the place emitted.
Stepping inside, he pushed his way past a thick throng of people who’d gathered next to the door. The sound of violins and the stomping of dancing feet produced a boisterous atmosphere that he couldn’t quite say he disliked. There was something unrestrained here—no rules to govern one’s every move, except for the rule of common decency, though he knew many of the patrons did not even practice that.
Still, he could feel the weight of his responsibilities begin to lift from his shoulders as he crossed the floor to the door leading out to the courtyard beyond. Stepping through it, his blood began to sing in response to the fight that he saw taking place. It was masculine power at its best, just pure muscle and strength against one’s opponent. Moving forward, he joined the crowd of onlookers and considered the men whose faces were both puffy and swollen, their bodies soaked from the onset of rain.
“Well, well, well...” The thick voice that spoke at his shoulder had Thomas turning around to find Carlton Guthrie grinning back at him. “Didn’t think to see ye ’ere, Yer Gr—”
“Heathmore will do,” Thomas said, offering up his last name to prevent the man from revealing his title. “You should know that by now.”
“Aye.” Guthrie glanced around. “Matthews ain’t with ye?”
“No. He is abroad at the moment.” Figuring Huntley would not approve of him sharing details about his life with a man he disliked, Thomas refrained from elaborating. “So I have come alone this time.”
“Need a good thrashin’ do ye?” Guthrie’s lips curled back to reveal a row of surprisingly perfect teeth. In fact, if it weren’t for his mustache, the stubble that dotted his jaw and the unkempt state of his hair, the man would actually be quite handsome. He would also look a hell of a lot younger than one imagined him to be at first glance.
“I’ve had a bad week,” Thomas confessed. “I believe hitting something might do me good.”
Nodding, Guthrie stuck out his hand. “It’ll be three pounds to enter.”
“When I was last here, it was free,” Thomas muttered, not because he couldn’t afford the sum but because he didn’t want to be taken advantage of.
“I ’ad to lure ye in first.” Guthrie smiled broadly, eyes flashing with devilish glee. “Now that ye’re lured, it’ll be three pounds.”
“What about them?” Thomas asked with a nod directed at the two men who were still throwing punches. “How much did they have to pay?”
“They’re me men, Heathmore. I’m trainin’ them fer the next match so I’ll be payin’ them an’ not the other way around.”
“I see.” Thomas pulled his coin purse from his pocket and counted out the money, then handed it to Guthrie.
“Thank ye very much, kind sir. Ye can toss yer ’at an’ jacket o’er there if ye like.” He pointed toward a stack of crates that stood beneath an overhang. “These two’ll be done soon so ye’d best prepare yerself ’cause I’m puttin’ ye against Smith.”
It wasn’t until he stepped out into the middle of the courtyard a few minutes later that Thomas understood what Guthrie had meant about preparing himself. Because the man he now faced bore a crisscross of scars on his cheeks and appeared to have risen from a medieval battleground ready to murder any man in his path.
Flexing his fingers, Thomas peered through the sheet of falling rain, his hair already smeared across his forehead. He balled his hands into fists, raised his arms and planted his feet in a solid stance like Huntley had taught him. The hours of exercises his friend had forced him to endure had physically changed his body. Gone was the softness to his belly that most men of leisure possessed, replaced instead by taut rows of muscle. His shoulders had widened as well, while his arms bore evidence of finely honed strength. It would be to his advantage now, he realized when Smith stepped into his space with a punch that was neatly avoided as Thomas moved out of its path.
He turned and rose onto the balls of his feet, dodging first this way, then that, before pulling his arm back and pushing it forward, directly toward Smith’s face.Thwack!His opponent’s head was flung back. Blood flew from his nose in a spray of crimson droplets that mingled with the rain.
Christ, that felt good.
