‘Unfortunately the terms of the wager forbid me to pay your sister for her help over the coming six weeks, but they do not forbid me giving her gifts to reimburse her for her time and efforts.’
‘Lina? Get over here, girl,’ Raul called to where his sister was laughing with some villagers at a nearby table.
‘So, what do you think?’
‘You really want to do this?’ Raul asked his sister.
She shrugged. ‘It’ll make a nice change from dancing and telling fortunes. And I’ll be back with you in no time at all.’
‘Fantastic,’ Alex said enthusiastically, holding out his hand for the other man to shake.
Raul looked at the hand, then slapped Alex on the shoulder in a brotherly way.
‘We don’t shake hands on a deal like this,’ he said, smiling and showing a set of surprisingly white teeth. ‘We fight.’
‘Raul, no,’ Lina protested.
‘Only way to know a man’s character.’
‘You’ll get us thrown out of Pottersdown.’ Brother and sister had huddled together conspiratorially and Alex had to strain to hear Lina’s words.
‘I’m not letting you go without this, Lina,’ Raul said after a hushed but heated discussion.
Lina turned to face him and shrugged. ‘He wants to fight. It’s up to you.’
Alex only deliberated for a second, realising Raul was trying to figure out what sort of man he was entrusting his sister to.
‘Let’s fight,’ Alex heard himself say.
‘Good man. Ten minutes, behind the cider tent.’ Raul left, whistling happily to himself.
Holding out an arm to escort Lina through the fair, Alex felt a rush of anticipation. As much as he knew he should count his blessings, these last few months he’d felt as though he’d been going through the motions and not really living, not really experiencing anything. Only the rush of excitement as he broke in a new horse or watched it cross the finish line with a new personal best speed got his heart pounding and his muscles tensing at the suspense.
This boredom he’d been feeling was entirely self-induced. Alex was well aware that his broken heart after Victoria had left had caused him to push away anything that might hurt him. And it had worked: three years on and his heart was mended, but he’d rather lost sight of the thrills in life that made it worth living.
‘What should I call you, then?’ Lina asked as they walked.
‘You know my name. Lord Whitemore.’
She rolled her eyes, the first of many gestures he would have to persuade her to drop if she was going to fit in with the finest debutantes of the Season.
‘Your real name. I’m not going to go around calling you Lord Whitemore, am I?’
‘I certainly hope you are. That is the correct form of address between us.’ Alex, who had always prided himself on being relaxed and informal, felt decidedly conventional and old-fashioned around Lina.
‘What do people actually call you, though?’ she persisted.
‘Do you promise not to use it?’
‘Cross my heart.’
‘Alex. Well, Alexander, but I prefer Alex.’
‘I suppose I’m meant to curtsy when I greet you, as well?’ Lina murmured quietly.
‘We can work on greetings later. I’m sure I can fill a whole morning with the proper way to greet a gentleman.’
‘I’m quivering with anticipation.’
They reached the cider tent and Lina led him around the side to an open area that was partially shielded from view. Alex quickly rolled his shoulders, loosening his joints, before reaching up to undo his cravat and slip off his jacket. He caught Lina’s eyes lingering on him as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal tanned forearms before a group of men sauntered around the tent.
‘Ready for a beating?’ one of the older men sneered.
‘Pay him no mind,’ Lina called. ‘Raul fights fair, not like this devious coward.’
‘Watch your tongue, Lina, or I’ll watch it for you.’
Alex stepped forward, placing himself in between the older man and Lina. He had no desire to be her protector, but she was under his care for the next six weeks and he would not hear her spoken to in that way.
‘Can I not leave you five minutes without you picking a fight, Tom?’ Raul called as he rounded the back of the tent. The older man shot Alex a dirty look, but sauntered away, taking up his place at the back of the rapidly assembling crowd.
‘Are you ready?’ Raul asked.
‘Whenever you are.’
‘We fight until first blood.’
Alex nodded. It was all the same to him. The muscular gypsy squaring up opposite him was obviously no stranger to a fight; indeed, it seemed his preferred way to seal a deal or settle differences. Alex himself had learned to box at school and had thrown and taken a few punches in more recent years. Added to that his work with his horses kept him physically fit and quick on his feet. Although he didn’t expect to win this fight he was confident he would at least be able to leave with at least his pride intact. It wasn’t really about winning or losing anyway. Alex knew it was his character that was being tested, not his skill—whether he was the sort of man to stand and fight or run and cower.
Slowly the two men circled each other, both light on their feet and constantly moving. For Alex all sounds of the surrounding crowd faded to a distant hum as he concentrated fully on his opponent. Suddenly Raul jabbed, a blow that was made to test Alex’s reactions more than anything, and Alex easily blocked it before returning a couple of lightning-quick body blows that elicited quiet grunts from Raul.
Backing off slightly, they circled again. This time Alex struck first, a powerful blow to Raul’s face that the gypsy wove away from at the last moment. Alex’s fist connected, but the impact was glancing and put him slightly off balance. Raul took full advantage of the situation and began hammering down blows, forcing Alex to go on the defensive. He retreated, using his arms to protect his face, and felt the swell of the crowd behind him.
Sensing Raul’s confidence at victory, Alex allowed him one more punch before feigning to the left and darting right. Before Raul could recover, he delivered a hard blow to the other man’s cheek, followed by a left hook to the jaw. At exactly the same moment, Alex felt Raul’s fist connect with his temple and a tearing pain in his eyebrow followed by the warm trickle of blood over his face.
Both men backed off, lifting their hands to their faces. Both sets of fingers came away wet with blood.
‘First blood.’ Raul grinned, wincing as the movement pained his split lip. ‘For a toff, you don’t fight badly. Now, let’s drink.’
