The Fighter and the Fallen Woman (13 page)

“I don’t know.” She traced rings on the lip of the teacup. “I don’t think Troon is ready for two retired prostitutes to take up sheep farming in their village, do you?” She looked at him, her smile as wistful as her tone.

“I think one smile of yours would charm the fish from the sea. The poor villagers of Troon don’t stand a chance.”

A tear trembled in Lady’s eye before she quickly turned and poured two cups of tea. He made a show of walking to the other side of the kitchen and studying a sampler mounted on the wall.

“Did you do this?” he asked loudly, his head slightly turned back but his eyes clearly on the stitchery.

“No, it was here when we moved in. I’m not much for needlepoint, I’m afraid.” She handed him his tea.

“Well, I’m not much for it either, so I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Your secrets are safe with me,” Lady said from beside him, looking at the sampler as she took a sip of her tea.

“I hope so.” King turned back to the sampler. “Because Mr. Collins is offering me five hundred pounds if I throw the championship fight.”

Chapter Fourteen

Lady gasped, breathing in some of her tea. She blindly set her teacup on a counter as she started coughing violently and gulping for air. After a moment, she was able to breathe normally again, but she could feel tears and worse on her face. She turned to the sink, rinsed her face off and scrubbed it dry with a towel. Needing a few seconds to compose herself, she filled a glass with water and drank half of it down. As she set the glass down, she took a deep breath, then turned to face King. He was standing in the exact same spot, sipping from his tea like a gentleman at his grandmama’s weekly salon.

“Why did you tell me that?”

“You said you’d keep my secrets.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she shouted, even more irritated by his unflappable calm.

He only shrugged, and Lady took more deep breaths to keep from hitting him. She could read nothing on his face and decided to go back to the beginning, hoping against hope she’d misunderstood. “Could you repeat your original statement, please?”

“Certainly. But I’ll stop the instant you pick up your teacup. That last cough almost did you in.” A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

Lady cocked her head and gave him her serious look.

King lifted one hand in a conciliatory gesture. “I said, Mr. Collins has offered me five hundred pounds if I throw the championship fight. That is, if I make it that far and if it’s Jonathan I’m facing. Although, if he’s offering me this blunt, I’m guessing he’s doing the same to other fighters with smaller sums.”

“King—”

“But Jonathan seems to be a fair fighter, and being from Australia, he is probably tough enough to make it all the way through. I’ll have to watch him closer during the—”

“King!”

He stopped and looked at her like she had just shouted during his grandmama’s salon. It didn’t help that he was still holding his teacup right below his chin as some of the dandies did.

“When did he do this? What did you say?” Lady sat at the scarred wooden table below the sampler. Sitting sounded much better than standing right now.

King delicately placed his teacup on the counter. He sat at the chair across from her and slumped, one foot hooked on the brace between the legs. Lady almost sighed in relief. The grandson had left the salon and her King was back.

Her
King? Lady closed her eyes for a moment and put that thought out of her head. She wasn’t sure what King was, but hers—like a champion of old—was too big a label to stick on him right now, so she not only put that thought out of her head, she barred the door after it and threw the lock.

“Remember when we went to the apothecary and Mr. Collins gave you the flowers?” King asked. Lady nodded, remembering Mr. Adams’s bruising because she hadn’t told him immediately. “It was the night when we met for dinner. He gave me twenty pounds just to consider the idea. And no, I haven’t answered yet, but he’s looking for me to, and soon.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“The fighter’s purse for the tournament is only two hundred pounds, but there’s some respect to be had, as well. Got to weigh them both, I suppose.”

Both of them sat in the silence until Lady said what both of them were thinking. “And there’s Mr. Adams.”

“And there’s you.”

Lady had been expecting him to echo her, so much so that she had opened her mouth to speak when it registered exactly what he had said.

“What do you mean, and there’s me?”

“You play a part in this game. I know the happier Mr. Adams is, the more generous he is. I can take Mr. Collins’s bribe and run—we both can—but if I stay in the tournament and win, just that one extra fight, I know Mr. Adams will give you a fortune in jewels, possibly even an extra reward for me. It’d be enough that we could buy our safety—Mrs. Nesbitt’s, too, if she didn’t want to come with. Think of it, Lady. We could have a future.”

“No, but you—I didn’t...” Lady stammered as her mind chased itself in circles. King leaned forward and folded her hands in his, looking at her until she met his eyes.

“Tell me there’s not something here, that we never had anything between us.” His voice was a brush of warmth in a world too cold. “Tell me we might not have a chance, that you believe you don’t deserve a happy ending. Tell me and I’ll have my answer for Mr. Collins.”

Lady looked down at their joined hands, his scarred and rough ones wrapped around hers. They felt strong. Warm. So very good. She glanced back at his eyes and saw courage and hope and some glimpse into his heart and it scared her, terrified her into admitting her dreams of a cottage would probably never be anything but that. With a start, she pulled her hands free and jumped back, knocking her chair over in her flight.

“No,” she cried. “No! People like us don’t get happily-ever-afters like in the fairy tales. Our happiness comes in the roof not leaking when it rains or an extra pound of meat because it’s going bad. We may have flirted, thought we had somebody we could talk to for a time, or a way...a way out, but you know and I know that’s impossible. This is my life. This is who I am.” She whirled to her left and took two steps, her hands fluttering in agitation because she couldn’t think of how to make him understand. She spun on the ball of her foot and paced the length of the kitchen, each step driving a black pain deeper into her heart. Moving rapidly only made her bruises and scrapes from Mr. Adams’s ruthless attack last night ache even more, emphasizing that little voice telling her she might have flirted with a young girl’s dreams of running away with a strong and handsome man, but the truth was, if she ran it’d be for her life, not true love.

“You want to see my happy ending? Come here.” She left the kitchen and stormed up the stairs, hearing him behind her but not caring if he came or not. At the landing, she headed for the front of the house and led him into the bedroom she used to entertain Mr. Adams. Skirting the bed, she led him to the window facing southwest and pointed out. “You can’t see it because it’s dark, but out there, about a mile away, is a paupers’ graveyard. It’s where Mr. Adams’s last mistress is buried. I know this because he told me. Oh, it was a conversational little tidbit he offered right after he fucked me for the first time as his new mistress, but the message was understood. That’s why he leases this house, this very house, so I can always look out and know where my next address is going to be if I try to live above his plans.”

Lady turned her back to the window, her breath and a few tears coming in soft, hiccoughing sobs. King stood close enough she could bow her head and it would be resting on his shoulder, but he wasn’t looking out the window. He was looking at her.

“But what about you? Don’t you think you deserve a chance to be happy?” He lifted one hand to gently stroke her jaw. “To know somebody cares for you because of who you are, not how much you cost or what you can do there?” He inclined his head toward the satin-covered bed.

“He does care for me, both for what I can do there and for who I am.” Lady heard Nessie’s voice in her head saying the same thing. “It’s in his own way, but he does. I have a house and food and a little bit of money saved away in exchange for an hour or two once every few days. Who says that’s not happy?” She challenged him with her eyes to say anything against her reasoning.

He didn’t answer, simply pulled her into his embrace so one side of her face nestled in his warm and calloused hand and the other was tucked into the curve of his neck, his stubble a welcome rasp. Lady closed her eyes and let the feeling of being cherished sink into her parched soul.

After a moment, he pulled back so they were no longer touching, and Lady felt it like she had been dropped into dark and icy water. She was instantly numb. She opened her eyes to see his brown ones watching her and felt the water fill her inside, deaden the rest of her to feeling anything.

Without another word, King left. Lady slumped to the floor and stared out the window until the sun came up and chased the fog away from the cemetery in the distance.

* * *

Lady woke to Nessie gently shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw the garish crimsons and golds of her professional bedroom. It felt like sand was in her eyes and a heavy weight was on her chest. She looked toward the windows and guessed it to be midday.

“Lady, thank goodness I knew enough to look in here for you this time. I let you sleep as long as I could but you need to wake up. Mr. Adams is going to be here soon and you look like a warmed-over corpse. Get up and rinse your face and I’ll make you some strong tea.” Mrs. Nesbitt pulled Lady to her feet and made sure her charge wasn’t going to slide back down to the floor before leaving.

After Mrs. Nesbitt departed, Lady pulled the draperies and looked out. Her gaze fell on the graveyard in the distance and she remembered last night. She touched her hand to her face where King had and finally recognized the weight on her chest—despair.

She let the draperies fall, blocking the view, and went to the bathroom to wash her face and run cold water on her wrists. Anything to take this numbness away. If the water didn’t do the trick, she’d better think of something else. With Mr. Adams coming over, she needed to be alert and alluring.

As she was changing into an appropriate dress, Mrs. Nesbitt came back upstairs, bringing the tea with her. She set it on Lady’s dressing table, saying, “Sit and drink while I do your hair.”

Lady took a sip of tea and started to feel better. As long as she had Nessie, she’d be all right. They could be happy here. After the tournament ended, things would settle down and Mr. Adams would go back to his usual self. There wouldn’t be such a risk with that ending. After all, what good was a happy ending if you spent every day looking over your shoulder?

“Are you well?” Nessie asked, braiding her hair into a sleek rope. “You seem down this morning.”

“I think the fights are getting everybody’s blood all heated. It’s exhausting trying to keep everybody happy, especially Mr. Adams.”

“You know to worry about Mr. Adams first and foremost. He’ll take care of you if you take care of him, and that will make us all happy.” She lightly pinched Lady on the cheek. Lady looked at Nessie in the mirror and smiled at Nessie’s good cheer.

“And speaking of Mr. Adams caring for you, he called me over last night because he wanted to know how you were doing.” Nessie returned to braiding Lady’s hair. “But you knew that, since he’s used his knee as an excuse before to get me over there.”

“So he wanted to know if he caused irreparable harm night before last.” Lady couldn’t stop the surge of bitterness. “That, or he was worried I’d hurt him back.”

“Or both.” Nessie gave a little snort of a laugh. “He was real proud of how you were last night, though. He said you were a lady through and through.”

“The night of... The night of the party, he made a comment about putting me in charge of the Red Door. I’m hoping it’s typical Mr. Adams, forgetting an idea soon after he has it.” She met Nessie’s eyes in the mirror, but it was hard. Nessie was looking like Lady had said they were being given the crown jewels. “Did he say anything to you about it?”

“No, not a word. But, oh, Lady—wouldn’t it be grand?” With Lady’s long plait of hair still in her hands, Nessie grabbed Lady’s shoulders and squeezed, a trembling smile on her face. “You would be so rich and powerful and live in such luxury.”

“You don’t think it would be getting more snared in the spider’s web?” Lady felt bad as she watched Nessie’s face fall. She could tell herself she believed staying here with Nessie would be her happy ending, but as a madam at the Red Door? That was a bite too big to swallow.

“It’s a dream come true.” Nessie went back to styling Lady’s hair, the excitement clearly crushed from her. “Think of it this way—yes, you’re still mistress to the Earl of the East End, but you’d also be in a position to put other girls under his nose so you’d get a break. Eventually he’d find somebody new and you’d be off his hook, but still have a rich business to support you.” She took out part of the braid and started to rework it. After a moment of fidgeting with it she said, “I also think he feels bad about what he did. Mayhaps you should forgive him. And if he offers the Red Door to you again, you should take it, take whatever Mr. Adams offers. He cares for you, Lady, and only wants what’s best for you. I know it.”

Tell me you don’t believe you deserve a happy ending.
King’s voice echoed through her head. Lady could feel it resonating down to her toes, the feeling strange and a little uncomfortable. “He has a funny way of showing he cares.”

Nessie stopped and looked at Lady in the mirror. Lady raised her eyes but not her head. “One mistake. One mistake and you’re going to tar him as not caring?” Nessie sounded both wounded and outraged. Lady hadn’t wanted to cause her friend grief, but she was getting a little weary of excusing men who beat, burned or raped her. Maybe she should have told her friend the whole story of that night after all.

“Perhaps my version of careless comes in a different form, and my count of mistakes tallies higher than one.” Lady lowered her eyes again. Nessie didn’t say anything but Lady could feel her tension in how she was winding her hair into a coronet and jabbing pins in to hold it in place.

“Careless doesn’t mean heartless,” Nessie said, breaking the brittle silence. “Just because a man hurts you don’t mean he’s always going to hurt you. You think another man is never going to hurt you, that King would never hurt you? Oh, yes, I’ve noticed how you look at him, how you always have, and don’t think I didn’t realize what it meant when you had me send a new dress to his place after Mr. Adams’s party. Believe you me, Lady, your King will hurt you worse than Mr. Adams ever will. The bruises Mr. Adams gives you will fade, but the pain King causes never will. That kind of pain scars your soul.” Nessie’s voice held tears and Lady felt that weight return to lodge directly over her heart. “If you don’t give Mr. Adams some consideration, mayhaps you are nothing more than a whore.”

Lady flinched and turned to look at Nessie. Tears ran down her face, dropping onto her shoulder. In the years Lady had known her, lived with her, she’d never seen Nessie cry. She stood up to talk to her, take her in her arms, but a loud knock sounded from downstairs and froze her in place.