Page 11 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“Shove a cork in it, my lord,” The widow focused on LordMeddlesome. “I do not peg you as a cheater, but do not think to interfere by garnering a fake proposal.”

Lord Meddlesome harrumphed, garnering more of Josie’s ire. Then, while they argued—make that, she called him names and he frowned, Davenport and the widow shook hands and whispered to each other like children keeping secrets.

Of course, the widow and the viscount were unperturbed. What did the two of them have to lose? Josie was the one who may have lost her gymnasium and was about to sacrifice her pride. It seemed Lord Meddlesome had already lost his family’s home. Relying on her to behave like a lady and defy societal dictates to save either of them was beyond pointless.

And now, thanks to the Black Widow’s terms, Josie was trapped with Nicolas Wentworth for the next few weeks. Adding insult to injury, apparently, he didn’t have a farthing. What good was an indigent aristocrat?

The sun wasrising in the sky when they finally left The Lyon’s Den. Josie climbed into a fancy conveyance with nothing but the clothes on her back. The carriage rolled along, taking her away from everything she knew. Nicolas sat across from her, his eyes closed as he obviously pretended to sleep. Viscount Davenport looked out the window, occasionally peering in her direction and smiling.

And all of this was for naught because there was no way she would make a match with the duke. Hell, she would never make a match with any man, not even one from her class, because she refused to tolerate their nonsense.

The viscount interrupted the deafening silence. “Miss Martin, Ibelieve you will find my mother quite hospitable. She enjoys having house guests.”

“Crackin’ fine,” Josie said sarcastically. Not that it mattered one way or the other since the dowager viscountess was saddled with her whether she wanted her or not.

The viscount rubbed his hands together “We are here.”

Nicolas opened his eyes and stretched.

The carriage halted in front of a white brick townhouse almost the size of a castle. The top of the rising sun emitted brilliant shades of orange, yellow, red, and gold from behind a four-story structure boasting a large bay window in the center of the second floor. A wrought iron fence ran across the front of the building, and five steps led to the ornate door.

As the viscount exited the carriage, he looked over his shoulder. “I suggest we make the most of this time together and try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Easy for you to say,” Josie and Nicolas both said at the same time.

The viscount’s laugh emanated from deep in his belly. He waggled a finger. “The two of you need to cheer up.” He reached to help Josie down.

She pushed his hand to the side.

“Being a Lady, lesson number one. Allow a man to help you from the carriage,” the viscount said.

She scoffed. “How to Keep a Woman from Kicking ye in the Bollocks, lesson number one. Keep your bloody hands to yourself, Viscount.”

Jonathon Davenport winked. “You can imagine yourself kicking me in the bollocks as I assist you if it helps.”

Damnation. She almost liked the irreverent viscount.

“Can I imagine myself punching Lord Meddlesome in the nose while I smile and takeyourhand?” She sent Nicolas a faux, toothy grin.

The viscount doubled over with laughter.

Meddlesome met her gaze and rolled his eyes. It seemed this overwrought man might be less amused than her over their impending demise. Perhaps this was something she could use to her advantage every time he vexed her.

Taking the viscount’s hand, she exited the carriage.

Once her feet touched the ground, she faced the men. “Why thank you, my lords. How gentlemanly of you to assist a helpless lady down from your fancy carriage.” With every intention of making a mockery of their farce, she turned on her heel and strode to the front door, attempting to daintily sway her hips. However, since she possessed very little feminine grace, she felt like a monkey swinging its arms wildly as it tried to waltz in a straight line.

Josie stood inthe grand foyer, circling like an awe-struck child. But it couldn’t be helped. She’d never been in a house this lovely. The polished marble floor shined, and gilded sconces adorned the walls. Fresh vases of colorful flowers adorned every available space.

A man wearing impeccable black livery greeted them. He dropped his stiff bearing to beam at Meddlesome. “My lord, ’tis so good to see you again. It has been too long.”

Lord Meddlesome smiled back, a shockingly genuine smile, showcasing dimpled cheeks. “Good morning, Peters. ’Tis’ always a pleasure. And I assure you, this visit, I won’t fence in the dining parlor.”

Peters chuckled. “Young boys must play. His lordship still occasionally turns a family meal into a sparring session.”

The viscount laughed. “Not in at least a year, Peters.”

Had Meddlesome been a fun-loving lad? Although hard to believe, the man was exceedingly handsome when he didn’t look like someonehad poured fire ants into his small clothes.