The man looked calmer. “Yes, my lord. I know exactly what I must do.”
“Good.” Race slid a card toward Prattle. “This is the name of my solicitor. The day after the fight, you are to take your sister to his office and he will have everything ready for her.”
The man’s heavy cheeks trembled again. “I don’t know what to say except thank you kindly, my lord.”
“Nothing else need be said, Prattle. Feel free to finish your wine before you go, and from now on take better care of your sister.”
Race rose and walked out the door.
Nineteen
My Dearest Grandson Alexander,
These words from Lord Chesterfield will serve you well as you travel through life if you heed them: “The reputation which you leave at one place where you have been will circulate, and you will meet with it in twenty places where you are to go. That is a labor never quite lost.”
Your loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder
Tension coiled tightly in Race, but he had never seen a more beautiful day in Hyde Park. There wasn’t a cloud in the azure sky. The sun beat warmly on his neck while a cool breeze stirred the midday air. A boxing match always drew crowds, especially if it was free, and this one had brought out thousands from every walk of life.
Race had never seen so many people in the park. There was chatter and laughter all around him. In the distance he heard someone playing a lively tune on a flute, and he smelled the harsh scent of burned wood from campfires. Carriages of every size and description, from gigs and curricles to fancy coaches, had been brought in close to the ring with men, women, and children standing on the seats, sitting on the rooftops, and hanging off the sides of them, hoping to get even a glimpse of the fight. More than half of the crowd that had gathered wouldn’t be able to see any of the much-touted pugilists’ match between Gibby and Prattle, even though Gibby had picked the highest mound in the grassy park to set up the prize ring. It was highly unlikely that more than a couple of hundred would be able to see any of it, but thousands would be able to say they had attended.
Pugilism had long been one of the most fashionable of amusements in London, even though it was usually brutal, ending only after one of the bruisers was unable to come to the scratch, which was the center of the ring, and continue the fight.
Race groaned silently at that thought. He didn’t know if he could trust Prattle to keep his end of their bargain and not do irreparable damage to Gibby, but Race had resigned himself to the fact that he’d done all he could to ensure that Gibby wouldn’t be hurt too badly. And to ensure that Gibby wouldn’t ever find out what he had done to help him.
Race looked over at Susannah, who sat beside him, and smiled to himself. He loved her more than he would have thought possible. It made him feel good just sitting beside her. He had crawled through the hedge in the dark of night to see her three times this past week, and each time it became harder and harder to leave her.
Falling in love had been the last thing on his mind when Susannah had first arrived at his door. Now, he couldn’t imagine her not being a part of his life. He wanted to marry her and make her completely his, but he wanted to give her more time to realize she loved him. He knew it was asking a lot of her to give up her prestigious and coveted title of duchess, but he wasn’t planning on her giving it up until he convinced her he would never make her sorry she had.
Race let his gaze stray over to Mrs. Princeton, who sat on the other side of Susannah. She was giving him a less than friendly look, so Race leaned back in his chair and turned toward Blake, who was to his left. No doubt the woman had figured out by now that he was slipping into Susannah’s bedchamber, judging by the evil eye she was giving him. Blake’s wife Henrietta was seated beside him, with Morgan on the other side of her. They all had front-row seats for an event Race had wanted never to happen.
When they had first arrived at the park, the group of them had to wade through a sea of gorgeously gowned women wearing wide-brimmed hats and faultlessly dressed gentlemen to get to their seats in the dignitary section circling the ring. All the others were at liberty to find their own places to stand or sit, be it their carriages, their horses, or nearby trees.
Race and his cousins had wanted to ride with Gibby in his carriage to the park for this event, but he had insisted he didn’t need them for anything other than as spectators. Gibby wanted only Danger Jim, who had been teaching him to box, and his assistant to be at his side during the fight.
The day before, Gibby had allowed Race and his cousins to be with him in the park as he spent an enormous amount of time making sure the ring was the right size and that chairs for the dignitaries were a safe distance from the rope.
There was talk in all the clubs that the prince himself, an ardent admirer of boxing, might appear for the match. Race had seen the Lord Mayor, the Duke of Norfolk, and several Members of Parliament, but so far he hadn’t seen anything to suggest that the prince would be in attendance.
With all the advance advertisements that had been plastered all over London by Gibby and others, Race didn’t think anyone remembered or even cared why Prattle and Gibby were going to box. The crowd just wanted to see a free fight.
“I can tell you are nervous for him,” Susannah said in a quiet voice.
He turned to her and sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t show, but yes, I’m worried about the old man. It’s difficult to bear the thought that he might get half his teeth knocked out, his jaw broken, or worse.”
Susannah’s face wrinkled in quiet concern. “You did what you could to stop him. He is well capable of making his own decisions. He decided he wanted to do it. Don’t blame yourself for any of this.”
He gave her a grateful smile and nodded. He wanted to reach over and touch her soft cheek, hold her hand and lean in close to her, but knew those things were forbidden, so he refrained and promised himself she would soon be his.
“I know you told me you have never seen a boxing match, but look across the ring and directly in front of you on the first row of seats to the robust man wearing the solid red waistcoat. He is England’s current boxing champion, Daniel Mendoza.”
Susannah eyed the man before saying, “Ah, I had already noticed him because even from here I can see how misshapen his nose is.”
“I’m told his jaw doesn’t work too well, either. There are several other well-known pugilists here. At the end of the row to the left is John Jackson. He owns a fighting club. He spent a couple of days with Gibby, teaching him how to protect himself as well as how to box, before turning Gibby over to Danger Jim for more lessons. There are also several members of the Pugilistic Society here. It surprises me that they have come.”
Susannah smiled at him. “Perhaps they want to make sure they have no new up-and-coming competition.”
