Worsley considered him.
“I will not take your money, so don’t bother offering.” It was a desperate situation, but he could not presume upon his friend’s kindness in such a great manner. The sum was a small fortune after all.
“Have you ever thought about the fighting pits?”
James frowned. “Your underground fighting pits?”
“Yes.”
He glanced upward where some patrons climbed the staircase to the second floor and strolled with excitement in their steps toward the fighting club. There they placed even greater wagers on men who participated in the brutal sport of bare-knuckle brawling while disguised patrons watched, smoking cigars and drinking brandy.
“Surely you jest.”
“Many lords of society take part in my matches. Surely you are familiar with the Earl of Maschelly. He won most of his fortune in the fighting pits. And he is not the only one.”
It seemed farfetched, but it was entirely possible. James was only seven and twenty and had spent the last few years working to restore his inheritance to surpass its former glory. Worsley’s gambling den was still considered one of the golden halls and in the caliber of Brooks, White’s, and The Cocoa Tree. However, it had also garnered a reputation of wicked profligacy like many clubs in Soho Square because of the fighting den. Many lords might have participated here in the highly illegal bare-knuckle fighting for money. “I have heard of him. I recall a rumor from a couple years or so ago that he took a lady there to the rings.”
“Yes, she is now his countess.”
“She fought someone?”
“She kicked a libertine in the balls.”
James chuckled. While he had heard about the couple, he had not personally met them. James looked again to the staircase. “What kind of fortunes are made there?”
“The purse tonight is fifteen thousand pounds.”
James choked on the next sip of his brandy. “What?”
“You heard me. I can slip you in to fight instead of Viscount Markham.”
James’s heart was pounding fiercely. If he could win this money for Poppy. “I have no experience.”
“Every gentleman can box. You were a soldier, and I know you were not an idle one. What have you to lose? The money is also paid out immediately. I want you to know the laws which govern pugilism are not observed here. It is primal fighting, raw, and gritty. Win by whatever it takes.”
And it was with that, James found himself an hour later in the ring stripped to the waist, thin leather strips that had been soaked in water or perhaps vinegar wrapped around his fists. He had practiced boxing from when he was a lad, but as Worsley had cautioned. This would be pure, brutal, barbaric fighting. For money. Bloody hell. He was really doing this. Glancing around the dimmed room, James noted the tables were less raucous, and only a handful of ladies or perhaps members of the demi-monde sat amongst the lords and gentlemen there. Smoke curled around the room, and footmen darted adroitly between the tables delivering drinks to the patrons betting on the fight's outcome.
James was not familiar with the man entering the ring, and the hush from the audience became almost respectful. The man’s body was muscled, more so than James’s, and the look in the man's eyes was almost feral.
The match started, and they danced around each other for several minutes before the man threw a punch. James’s head snapped back, and before he could recover, several powerful blows landed against his torso and on his chin. He fell to the ground with a resounding thud. The pain was alive inside his body. He vaguely heard a man counting, giving him time to stand.
James struggled to his feet, inhaling deep and breathing through the pain. He was not an idle hand. He was skilled in boxing, fencing, and pistols. This was just another burden to bear on his shoulders for the sake of those he loved, for he had already decided this was how he would repay Mr. Winters his money. One fight at a time. Even if it left him bloody and broken.
James sank into a place deep inside, burying the pain, lifted his fists and waded in to fight.
Chapter 15
“Poppy!”
She paused in climbing the steps of the carriage at her name and turned around. James was walking toward her, and the determination that had formed in her heart trembled. Poppy cast a glance at Daphne, who had come to see her off.
“You told him I was leaving today?”
Her friend smiled apologetically. “Yes. I know it is painful for you to see him. However, James suspected I was loaning you my carriage and a footman and maid for your journey and coaxed the knowledge from me.”
Poppy swallowed, then jolted in shock when he came to a stop some feet away. His face was a mess of purple and black bruises. One of his eyelids was swollen closed, and his knuckles were rubbed raw. Yet there was a smile about his mouth.
“James,” she said faintly, tears springing to her eyes. “What happened? Did Mr. Winters attack you?”
“No, I assure you I am fine.”
Her anxious mind, relieved of its worst fears, she asked, “Why are you here?”
She noted his set face, his clamped mouth, and stiffly held arms. He was in pain.
His mouth curved, but it was a bleak, tight-lipped smile. “I have a few questions to ask you. Please answer them honestly, I beg you.”
The pit of her stomach felt strange and fluttery at his intensity. “Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, with my entire heart.”
“Is it a love worth fighting for, worth defying expectations for, to live a life of happiness not according to what others want, but what we desire?”
Her heart pounded. “James…”
“Is it Poppy? Do you love me with the same desperate ache that I love you with? We have endured many sorrows, both of us. We have lost many people that we loved. You have had a hard life with little joy. But I believe in each other’s arms we found something…something wonderful. Do you agree?” There was almost an imperceptible note of pleading in his voice.
A sob tore from her, and she took a close step to him. “Yes.”
“I am not a wealthy earl, and when that is revealed, we might lose some friends, and I might have to work for the rest of my life to put food on our table. But I know my life will be grand just from having you in it. Marry me. I promise to work hard and treasure you all my life. I promise to shelter you from the scandal and gossip mongers. I promise to love you always.”
She felt a warm glow flow through her body. “Oh, James.” The shadows that had lingered across her heart for the whole night vanished. “I am not afraid of working. I will give piano lessons…I….” Her voice broke off in mid-sentence.
“Poppy…are you agreeing to marry me?”
“Yes, I am happy to stay by your side and fight for our happiness, James.”
“Thank Christ.”
He took a step closer. “I wish I could haul you in my arms, but we are in the middle of the street.”
A laugh hiccupped from her. “James, why are you so bruised. Please do not keep it from me. I have no delicate sensibilities to startle!”
“I was in Worsley’s fighting pits last night.”
“Good heavens!”
“I won.” He pulled from his pocket an envelope. “This is a bank draft for fifteen thousand pounds. It would be yours if you chose not to stay. You can live a good life with this money.”