The Fighter and the Fallen Woman (6 page)

Chapter Five

King was glad he was exhaling his cigar smoke, because if not, he would have choked on the curse that popped into his head. “Lose what fight?”

“The title match.” Mr. Collins said it with the same lazy smile. “Let’s be honest. You and Jonathan are obviously the best fighters in the tournament. You have the skill, the physical presence, but most importantly, the drive to win. I think the only way somebody’s going to beat either of you before you have a chance to beat each other is with a length of chain and a club.”

King sipped his brandy and studied Mr. Collins. He looked calm, peaceful and happy with the world, but if King would have run into him on the street, looking like that, with no introduction or previous knowledge, he would have avoided him. There was something not right in his eyes.

“So you don’t think Jonathan can beat me?”

“I’m not sure yet. I haven’t seen you fight enough to know how you stack up against Jonathan, only know that you’re the best of this bunch.” Mr. Collins took a puff of his cigar and watched the smoke as he exhaled. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get this concluded so I can conduct some other business while in town.”

King nodded. “So what are my fists worth?” he asked.

Mr. Collins smiled conspiratorially. “Five hundred pounds.”

King whistled and leaned back against the bench. “That’s almost enough where I can deal with Mr. Adams when I lose.”

Mr. Collins nodded slowly.

“Any other details I need to be aware of?” King asked.

“No, none that I can think of. If you choose to do it, we can work out the arrangements then. If not, we’ll see who’s truly the best.” Mr. Collins stood up and tugged his jacket down. He reached into his wallet and pulled out twenty pounds. “If you say no, we part company as friends and forget this conversation ever happened. Sound fair?”

King glanced at the money in Mr. Collins’s hand, and nodded once. The American dropped the money on the table, inclined his head in a farewell gesture and left. King slipped his hand over the bills as soon as Mr. Collins’s back was turned, waiting for a moment before sliding them close enough that he could fold them, minus two for food and a little extra for the barmaid, into a pocket. If nothing else, he got dinner, a fine brandy, and enough money to support him for a while if he was careful.

If he was careful.

* * *

Lady stood still as Nessie put the finishing touches on her dress. The heavy crimson silk was trimmed with velvet in alternating bands of pearl gray and charcoal, and the train was gathered up with gilded cords. Knots sat strategically placed at each hip and at the cleft of her bottom and made a man “want to be tied up in them,” according to Mr. Adams. Two decorative cords tied each split sleeve closed at the elbow and Nessie had to tie those last, even after slipping on the matching pearl-gray gloves. She helped Lady into her matching velvet wrap and brushed the nap back down.

“You’re certain you were all right?” Lady asked.

“Yes, of course I was. Like I said, he was doing his usual checking up. I told him a few things, including you seeing King and Mr. Collins, acted a little more scared than I was, and he seemed fine with it.”

“And he asked nothing about the flowers?”

“No, he was more interested in Mr. Collins’s appointment with King.” Nessie tucked a stray curl back into Lady’s coiffure. “But since it was too late to do anything, Mr. Adams seemed to shrug it off.”

“What a blessing that turned out to be. Now I need to remember to brush off the flowers as pathetic and give him a brief update myself on King, and we’ll be fine.” Lady wrapped her friend in a brief hug, needing the comfort after a disturbing thought that Mr. Adams might not think all was fine after all. “Thank you for taking care of me, Nessie.”

“Of course I do. And I still think Mr. Adams does too—in his own way,” Nessie hastily amended when Lady suddenly pulled back. “Remember that. He does care for you and I think he’s trying to do good by you. And I’ll always do what’s best for you too, Lady. Always,” she said and Lady felt the first sting of tears. Even with Nessie’s torn loyalty, twelve years of friendship had built some very deep bonds. Lady could push the issue with Mr. Adams if she wanted, but now wasn’t the time.

Nessie gave her one last squeeze and opened the front door. Softly, she said, “Now go on with you. Your carriage is here, Princess.”

As long as the door was open Lady couldn’t show her any other signs of affection, especially if there was a possibility Mr. Adams or Shade could see. She’d learned that hard lesson with the first housekeeper Mr. Adams employed for her. Her name was Mrs. Wilkins and Lady still visited her grave on occasion. She took a breath, then slipped on her haughty whore’s persona easier than she had put on her wrap. “Make sure the house is clean for when I return, Mrs. Nesbitt, and be prepared to have tea ready. I’m sure I shall want some.”

Lady approached the carriage, and held out her hand for Shade to help when she noticed it wasn’t Shade standing there, but King. The surprise of him waiting for her, watching her, caused her to abruptly jerk to a stop.

“Are you well, Lady?” King stepped forward and reached for her as though she needed firmer footing. Little did he know her footing became more precarious the closer he got.

“Yes, King, I’m fine.” She gave him her polite-yet-distant smile. “I twisted my heel in a crack in the cobblestones, but no harm done.” She allowed him to help her into the carriage, and per usual, she sat beside Mr. Adams but not touching him.

“Hello, Mr. Adams,” she said in a sultry voice, offering him her hand as King seated himself opposite them.

“Hello, pet.” He kissed her hand through her glove. “You’re looking especially ravishing this evening.”

“I wanted to look my best for you, of course.” She gave a little moue and tilted her head. “And I think the men at the tournament need to know what they’re up against—a purveyor of the finest available.”

Mr. Adams laughed like a man who was both surprised and pleased, then stared at King until he laughed along. She wasn’t sure if Mr. Adams didn’t realize the absurdity of bringing King in on the joke, or if he did and was being exceedingly cruel.

“That’s right, pet. The finest a man can buy,” Mr. Adams said, still chortling slightly. He reached over and roughly squeezed one of her breasts. She managed to turn her gasp of surprise and pain into one of delight. King had pushed forward and she almost teared up, knowing he wanted to protect her. She prayed Mr. Adams hadn’t seen him do it. It would get very ugly very quickly if he had and, as far as Mr. Adams’s assaults went, this was minor, not worth a fuss. But she treasured his gesture anyway, tucked it away with the few other attempts he’d made, like a posy in a book.

“So, Mr. Adams,” she asked, affecting a coquettish pose that also protected her chest from another direct attack, “where is Shade this evening? I pray he is well.”

“He’s well, and you’ll see him soon enough, pet.” He leaned over to look past Lady and out the window. They were arriving at the warehouse, men with barely hidden guns marking the entrance.

The carriage stopped and King got out and stood by the door, acting as a guard. Lady stepped out next and as he helped her, she told herself she didn’t notice the warmth pouring through her glove or the way she felt held, and not grabbed. She especially didn’t feel the way he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Looking straight ahead, she stepped up and put him behind her so as soon as Mr. Adams got out, she could take her customary place on his left. Arm in arm, they entered the warehouse with King following.

As soon as they entered the fighting area, Mr. Adams led them on a slow circuit of the crowd, visiting, boasting and betting. When they came back full circle, Mr. Collins and Jonathan were standing in the crowd, watching them approach.

“Sebastian.” Mr. Adams thrust out his hand for the American to shake. “Why are you here? This is only the second half of round one. Your man fought last night and is set for round two on Friday.”

“Mr. Adams, so good to see you.” Mr. Collins returned the handshake. He turned to Lady and bowed at the waist, but made no motion to touch her. “And, Lady, always a pleasure.

“I wanted to come watch the other contestants. As the tournament progresses, it is such a sport to bet on the consolation fights—the best of the worst, as it were,” Mr. Collins said and laughed. “And I find it helps to get the full measure of Jonathan’s competition. For instance, he may face your man next week.”

“But King isn’t in the same bracket.” The words tumbled from her mouth before she knew what she was saying.

“Oh-ho, my pet likes all kinds of sporting, doesn’t she?” Mr. Adams gave her a curious look. She couldn’t tell if her outburst pleased or angered him, so she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, lingering to nuzzle his ear with her nose.

“I won’t waste my time telling you again how lucky you are, Mr. Adams.” Mr. Collins motioned at Lady. “However, I was talking about your man, Shade, there. I believe if he wins tonight, he’ll be fighting in Jonathan’s bracket on Friday.”

Lady was able to control her tongue that time, but she couldn’t help jerking her head over to look where Mr. Collins was pointing. Wearing loose black pants, black boots and nothing else, Shade was shadow boxing away from the other fighters. She glanced over her shoulder and saw King watching him.

“And you should lay some money on him.” Mr. Adams waved an unlit cigar at the American. “He’ll win, I guarantee. There’s something about him that’s like a wild dog. He doesn’t know how to lose.” Mr. Adams sounded satisfied, and she knew there was part of him that enjoyed and admired Shade like a man would a fine hunting dog.

“Another fine dog to train. And it’s a good thing you hold his leash,” Mr. Collins finished and both men laughed.

“Speaking of that, I need to speak to him before his match. If you’ll excuse me.” Mr. Adams led Lady and King several feet away before stopping. “Watch her,” he ordered, looking at King but pointing at Lady, and then he walked away.

Lady was startled at how Mr. Adams left her, even if it was with King. Usually he brought her with him, a forgotten appendage occasionally used for show. She didn’t know if it was the tournament, Mr. Collins or something else entirely, but something was getting Mr. Adams more bound up than usual. Lady felt especially skittish with King so close, but the best thing she could do was to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

She positioned herself so she could see Mr. Collins and Jonathan to her right and Mr. Adams talking to Shade on her left. It left the most dangerous man behind her, but he was probably the least likely to hurt her—least likely for tonight, at least.

“Are you going to place a bet on Shade?” King asked in a low voice.

Lady looked over her shoulder and saw him standing one step behind her and one step to her left. He was also watching both pairs of men.

“No.” She turned back toward the ring.

“I thought you bet on all of Mr. Adams’s men. You know, a guarantee and all.”

“I wouldn’t call Shade a guarantee.” Lady let her eyes drift to the man they were discussing. He was listening to Mr. Adams with a fierce intensity, his eyes never leaving the older man’s face.

“And I was?” Lady glanced at him again, but this time he was looking at her, his eyebrows raised with the question and one corner of his mouth curved up. Seeing this teasing side of King was not helping to quell her feelings.

“No.” She turned back toward the ring. She was glad he couldn’t see her face because when he chuckled—very softly—she couldn’t help smiling. It felt nice.

Lady glanced to her right. Mr. Collins’s tall form was retreating through the crowd. There was no blond shadow following him and Lady fought a small flutter of panic. She scanned the faces surrounding her until she spotted Jonathan.

He was looking right at her from ten feet away.

Lady was unable to see anything but his sharp cheekbones, pointed chin and gleeful smile, not wanting to know what made him so happy. King moved so he was standing beside her, and at the same time, Jonathan started toward them. She had the powerful urge to hide behind King and peek out from around his shoulders.

“You must be Lady,” Jonathan said, stopping less than two feet away. She tried to tell herself that because there was such a crowd, it was simply impossible to talk and be heard unless you were right next to someone. “Please call me Jonathan. We didn’t get a chance to properly meet just now, so I wanted to introduce myself, I did. I’ve heard so much about you from Mr. Collins. And you, King. It’s simply grand to run into you, as well.”

“Grand,” King echoed.

“Jonathan.” She lowered her head in greeting. She kept her wrap held in both hands so she couldn’t be expected to greet him formally.

“So, who do you think looks good tonight?” Jonathan smiled, and looked toward the ring and the fighters beyond it. “That Mac bloke from Scotland has some heft to him, but I don’t know if he has the instinct. And the wiry fellow missing half an ear, his should be an interesting match. I hear his last opponent is missing a full ear.” He laughed and looked at Lady again.

“You’ve certainly been studying the other fighters,” she said. Most times she could read men, but this one was a black hole beneath the ice.

“Not as much as I’ve been studying you, pretty bird.” His odd declaration disturbed Lady so much that she froze and could only watch as Jonathan reached out for her face.

Chapter Six

Lady’s heart jumped into her throat, threatening to choke her, but before she could take a breath around it to scream, King stepped in front of her and grabbed Jonathan’s wrist, forcing it down to his side. Lady was suddenly looking at King’s shoulders and a hysterical laugh slipped out at the thought she’d ended up hiding behind him anyway. A small part of her noticed the Australian leaving, but the man standing in front of her, blocking her from harm, meant more to her. She found herself reaching for King’s shirt, her fingers already curling with the anticipation of grabbing on and never letting go. She leaned toward him, her eyes slowly sinking closed, and inhaled his wood-smoke-and-spice scent.

King turned and Lady quickly pulled back. She opened her eyes to see King so close that if she had left her hand where it was, it would now be curled above his heart. He was staring at her, and Lady had the crazy urge to gently touch the side of his face, see if he would pop like a soap bubble and disappear, or scratch the skin off her hands, so tough was his exterior.

“Are you all right?”

“Hmm?” Lady’s breath came faster and she looked away before she couldn’t breathe at all.

“Are you all right?” King grabbed Lady’s shoulders and lowered his head to force her to meet his eyes. She could breathe again.

“No.” She said it quietly and didn’t turn back toward the ring.

They stared at each other for the length of one shared heartbeat, a heavy pulse marked by the pain of knowing all the questions between them had only one answer. She wanted to say something, beg forgiveness or even offer a simple acknowledgment of this thing growing between them, but then King dropped his hands and stepped backward so quickly her dress swirled around her ankles. She opened her mouth to ask him something, anything, but before she could speak he gave her a look that Lady felt was a warning, and though she knew he was right, it hurt. Lifting her chin, she turned away from him and faced the ring, a coy smile on her face, a bitter taste in her mouth.

Just in time. Mr. Adams was coming toward her and she had to act like he was who she really wanted. She cocked her hip and let her wrap droop, exposing the skin of her upper arms flashing through the slits of her dress.

Mr. Adams grabbed her hips, pulling her into his bulk. “That’s the kind of welcome I like to see,” he said and nipped the slope of her breast. Lady laughed huskily and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

With a hard slap on her ass, Mr. Adams moved Lady in his arms so he was facing King. “Was there a problem?”

“Somebody got too close to Lady, but it’s taken care of now,” King said in a monotone.

“Good lad. Now go watch the fights. You’ll be facing a few of these boys and best to learn their weaknesses before you get in the ring.” Lady heard the dismissal for what it was and almost begged King to stay. Mr. Adams did not let his fighters determine their own strategy. He told King how to fight just like he told Lady how to fuck. There was another reason why he’d sent King away and Lady’s fear was building in the guessing.

“King seems to be looking healthy.” Mr. Adams said it in the same terrifyingly nonchalant tone he’d used with King.

“Hmm? Yes, I suppose so. I introduced him to an apothecary who had a salve that works especially well on cuts and bruises. It smells awful, so don’t be surprised if Mrs. Henderson complains.” She gave a mocking laugh.

Instead of laughing, Mr. Adams looked at her, moving nothing but his eyes. Lady pretended not to notice and stayed draped on his shoulder. She brought her other hand up to idly trace patterns on his chest and looked around the room with an indifferent air.

“Anything else that would surprise me?”

The cramps in her belly relaxed a little. Now she knew what was bothering Mr. Adams. Where she usually would have told him in the carriage on the way here, having King there had thrown her enough that she’d forgotten. Now she had to make Mr. Adams believe the tale she was about to tell.

“No, but I have something that’s certainly going to amuse you,” she said with the same edge of mockery in her voice.

“And what’s that, pet?” Mr. Adams turned to face her, his words angry and clipped.

“On the way to the apothecary’s we ran into Mr. Collins, and you’ll never guess what the poor fool did. He gave me a little street vendor’s bouquet of flowers. And they were
daisies.
” She laughed into her hand. “Can you imagine? I practically threw them at his feet, but that wouldn’t help you.”

Mr. Adams gave her a look that clearly said to continue.

“If you have this wager with him, I would think there might come a time in the future when you need some information or a distraction when it comes to Mr. Collins, so I thought it would be best not to antagonize the poor man. You never know when a silly little crush can come in handy.”

She needed to break eye contact. He would see something was off if she kept looking at him. With a little shrug, she looked back over the fight and hoped her expression matched the banality of the gesture.

“That’s a good girl,” he finally said. Lady had just enough time to feel relief when he grabbed her arm and turned her toward him so hard and so fast it felt like she’d been hit by one of the fighters. “But if you
ever
make me wait to hear about some man sniffing around your skirts again, regardless of whether I have business with him or not, I will have to hurt you. And just because I’m having you care for King so I don’t lose ten thousand pounds to that
poor fool
, that does not mean you’re free to fuck anything with a cock. You’re mine and you’ll do what I want when I want, and nothing more. Do you understand me?”

Lady nodded, blinking quickly so the tears wouldn’t fall.

“Do you understand me?” Mr. Adams jerked on her arm hard enough to burn her skin.

“Y-yes. Yes, I understand you.” A few tears escaped anyway.

“Good.” He released her and pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat. Lady gingerly took it, and as soon as she did, he grasped her hip and pulled her against his side again. “Shade’s coming up in two fights. Maybe he’ll get a little good-luck kiss from you too. It sure helped King.” He laughed like nothing had happened.

Lady was able to force the appropriate laugh, shaky as it was, and wiped at her tears. She was starting to pull her mask back on when she looked up and saw King across the room.

The way he was watching, she knew. He had seen the whole thing.

* * *

King finally tore his gaze away from Lady and turned his attention back to the fight. That fight was simple, clean, easy. The one he’d just watched wasn’t. He didn’t know what had caused Mr. Adams to hurt Lady, and knowing Mr. Adams, it could have been anything real, imagined or somewhere in between, but King knew it had nothing to do with him. If Mr. Adams did have an issue with him, he would address it promptly with a gun in his hand and Shade at his side, in front of all these people if he was angry enough. That left him off the hook, but it kept Lady wriggling on it.

Seeing her abused, watching the fear wash across her face along with her tears, added one more drop of anger to a bucket already overflowing. From that first night he had helped Lady manage hurt ribs to a few months ago when he’d slipped some opium into Mr. Adams’s brandy to save Lady from the attentions of a drunk, angry man, the bucket filled. She’d thought Mr. Adams had passed out, and the relief on her face made King wish he’d thought of it sooner. Though they’d only talked for a few minutes after that, there was something so happy about her, so carefree, he’d started to wonder about who Lady was beyond a woman who seemed to understand the same dark world he lived in. Did she like strawberries better, or raspberries? Had she ever looked up at the sky and wished on stars? Could she be happy with a man who had no skills save his fists, but who would never use them to beat her?

What if they ran?

A winner was announced and King realized he hadn’t seen any of the fight he’d just watched. If he wasn’t careful, that inattention was going to get him killed, either in the ring or outside of it. The next fight started and Shade’s was the fight after. That was the match he needed to watch. Time to focus on business.

Shifting his weight and crossing his arms across his chest, King made mental notes on the fighters starting the match.
Big Jim—favors his left
,
nasty jab
,
leaves his middle open.
Wayne—quick feet
,
likes combination punches
,
blind spot on right.
Lady—eyes like the nighttime sky
,
treats me like a real person
,
worth fighting for.

King’s head snapped back in response to Wayne’s blow to Big Jim’s jaw. He’d let Lady into his thoughts again. “What the bloody hell?” he yelled and looked away from the fight to clear his head. He wasn’t even in the ring and he was getting beaten up.

“Yes, I know. You wouldn’t think Wayne would be able to deliver so much power, but it goes to show you that you don’t always know what a person is capable of by looking at them.”

King looked at the man he appeared to be in a conversation with and saw Mr. Collins standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder beside him, watching the fight. He forced the whirling thoughts in his head under a heavy slab and slowly straightened back to his original position—legs braced, arms crossed. He took a deep breath of the smoke, sweat and blood, and the familiar smells relaxed him. This was what he knew. This was what he was part of. This was what he was.

“And in a fight, nothing before matters. It’s that moment that shows what you’re capable of,” King said, watching as Big Jim clasped his hands over his head for a crushing blow.

“You’re a fighter and a philosopher. How wonderful.”

King glanced at Mr. Collins, then looked back to the match where Wayne speared Big Jim in the gut with his shoulder, driving the bigger man to the ground. The fight ended and a few raucous cheers sounded among the groans. Wayne’s win over an opponent twice his size defied those wagering on the sure thing. From the corner of his eye, King could see Mr. Collins dropping his betting ticket on the floor. “How much did you lose?”

“Fifty pounds. But what irritates me most is I knew I should have bet on Wayne, but I went against my instincts and picked the wrong man.” Mr. Collins looked at King, glanced down at the tickets in his hand, then back up to him. “Why? How much did you lose?”

King lifted his hand with his betting tickets in them. He watched as the American peered down at the writing on the ticket and burst into laughter.

“You bet on Wayne.” He thumped King on the back. “You see, this is why I like you. You’re tough, you’re smart and you know how to bet.”

“It was only five pounds.” King looked back to the ring where Shade was standing as still as death.

“But you won.” Mr. Collins’s voice was intense. “It’s not what you bet, it’s that you win.”

King couldn’t help it. He glanced at Lady. She was draped on Mr. Adams’s shoulder with her usual coy smile, but King could see the dark pulling her down. “Not always.”

“And since you’re a winner,” Mr. Collins went on as though he hadn’t heard King or didn’t care, “have you decided to make me one, as well?”

King watched Shade’s opponent enter the ring.
Jakem—lean
,
young
,
cocky.
I
hope he told his mama goodbye.

“With this new development—” King inclined his head toward the ring, “—I’m sure you realize there are a few additional concerns.” Mr. Collins nodded his head. “Would you mind if I took a little time before I answered? I know you need an answer, but I want to be sure and give you the right one.”

“Smart man, smart man,” Mr. Collins said with the first hint of fire in his eyes King had seen. “
This
is why I want you. Perhaps I’ll try and buy you out from Mr. Adams.”

King would be curious to hear that conversation, but he knew Mr. Adams cared more about appearances than money. Mr. Collins buying one of his best fighters would not do much for Mr. Adams’s standing. He shrugged.

Mr. Collins tapped him on the shoulder with a hard finger. “You’ve got your time. You can get a message to me at the Four Crowns.”

Their conversation stopped and the fight started. Shade danced around the younger man. Jakem was able to brush a few punches off Shade, but received none in return. On his next circle of the ring, King watched as Shade glanced toward Mr. Adams. The crowd followed Shade’s look and turned away from the fight to watch Mr. Adams’s decision. After a few shattering seconds, he held his fist out, thumb pointing sideways, then jabbed it straight down. The crowd roared and turned back to the ring to watch Shade plant his feet, draw back and throw one punch at Jakem. The young man dropped like a bag of dirt. The referee squatted down and ran his hands over the fallen man’s face and neck, then leaned his head down to listen for breath. He looked at Mr. Adams and slowly shook his head. Mr. Adams and the crowd burst into cheers.

“I took that bet.” Mr. Collins waved his betting ticket in front of his face. “And I’d like to meet the man who didn’t.”

King shook his head and showed his ticket with Shade’s name scratched on it. “You said I was smart,” he said and Mr. Collins laughed.

* * *

Lady woke slowly, the brightness of the day mocking her. She rolled away from the light and realized she was still in her fancy bedroom, the one she used for when Mr. Adams visited. She tried never to sleep in this satin prison, preferring the plain room down the hall. In her room with faded wallpaper of primrose scaling a trellis, white eyelet linens and her quilt, she could find the closest thing she had to peace.

It would take more than a quilt and some wallpaper to find peace today. Lady opened her eyes and looked at the necklace pooled on the piecrust table beside her bed. It was a string of creamy pearls, each the size of the tip of her pinkie finger and every fourth spot taken by a similarly sized ruby. Hanging from the middle was a teardrop ruby the size of her thumb and when the necklace was on, the curve of the ruby led to her décolletage like a drop of wine running downhill.