Page 13 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

Nicolas fought the urge to snap,This is not a pleasant social call, mate!Instead, he answered with the expected pleasantry, “My chamber is quite comfortable.” Despite the unfavorable circumstances, it truly was a wonderful room, and Davenport’s townhouse was the picture of genteel comforts. Whereas, much to Nicolas’s chagrin, the Shiredale’s Mayfair townhouse now belonged to another wealthy family.

Lady Agatha Davenport greeted Nicolas as if he were a long-lost nephew, insisting that he sit, eat heartily, and make himself at homefor the entirety of his visit. “Jonathon filled me in on this situation in which you find yourselves,” she added.

One of the footmen placed a cup of coffee and a steaming bowl of soup in front of Nicolas.

Desperate for coffee, Nicolas sipped before he responded. “I am truly sorry that you have been dragged into this, Lady Davenport.”

“I insist you call me Agatha, since you are to be our guest for a while and I want you to feel at home.” She sighed. “You two do find trouble. You have since you were young lads. But Nicolas dear, unlike my son, I thought you’d grown out of devilish mischief.” She glared at Davenport.

Davenport waved a dismissive hand. “This time, I am bailingNicolas dearout of the trouble he got himself into.”

Since he probably shouldn’t call his host an arse or punch him in front of his mother, Nicolas held his tongue.

“I disagree,” the dowager viscountess said. “’Tisn’t Nicolas’s fault that his father lost their estate gambling.”

Although he knew she meant no disrespect, hearing his predicament vocalized by someone outside his family felt like a punch in the gut. Nicolas shifted in his seat.

“Agreed,” Davenport said. “However, jumping into a crowd to chase after a pretty pugilist who had no desire to be chased was not well-planned.”

The coffee soured in Nicolas’s esophagus. He put down his cup. Since all of his secrets were in the open, there seemed no point in hiding anything. “Firstly, I thought she was in danger.” Exhaling any pride he had left, he continued. “As humbling as this is to confess, it’s true I’m afraid. My father has lost everything, and this absurd gambit seems to be my only opportunity of getting any of it back.” He would mention another time that his sister’s chances of making a suitable match had been utterly ruined. Surely, the popular and agreeable Lady Davenport would assist Bridget.

Lady Davenport tapped her fingertips on the rim of her cup. “I have already explained to Jonathon that I find this task quite unpalatable. Not because I mind guests. I am delighted to have you. And ’tis quite exciting to have a female pugilist stay with us. If I were able to tell everyone, I would be the envy of theton.However, I think this must remain our secret. And I want to emphatically state that I do not wish to treat a woman, no matter her class, as if she is a doll that can be dressed up and played with.”

“Are you talking about me?” Josie asked as she barged into the parlor.

Nicolas’s breath caught in his throat as both he and Davenport stood.

Damnation, Josephine was beautiful. Her green dress brought out the emerald speckles in her brown eyes. Her thick, shiny hair had been pulled back in a green ribbon, and a long curl hung over her left shoulder. Her visible skin was creamy and unblemished except for a purple bruise on her bicep.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Josephine Martin. I am the Dowager Viscountess Davenport. Please call me ‘Agatha’.” She motioned for Josie to take the seat across from Nicolas.

Josie charged to them and plopped into the chair. She immediately leaned over the white soup the footman placed in front of her. Closing her eyes, she moaned a sensual sound as she inhaled.

Her passionate reaction to the food sliced through Nicolas’s reserve. Overcome by want, he swallowed hard.

Undaunted, Lady Davenport remained the picture of hospitality. “The gentlemen are filling me in on this predicament in which the three of you find yourselves.”

Josie slurped a mouthful before responding. “I’m sorry, me lady, I mean Agatha, but there ain’t no way you can turnmeinto a lady. But Lord Meddlesome—” Josie thrust her spoon in Nicolas’s direction—“stuck his nose in me business, and now I don’t have the money I needto start me boxing gymnasium. Coach, Franny, and I need a new building if we are to get ladies to come to us. Our place in St. Giles ain’t safe for anyone, let alone a lady. Ye see, we’ve been trying to teach ladies to defend themselves, but how can we, when they can’t even get to us? And we can’t carry all our equipment around to their houses. Our new building is splendid, ’tis. A spacious old structure on Tavistock Street. Ladies will come. We just know they will.” She punctuated her diatribe with a snarl in Nicolas’s direction as if even her unsafe gymnasium was somehow his fault.

Despite his unwelcome attraction to her, Nicolas had grown tired of playing the gentleman with this hoyden. “Are we going to continue with the blaming game, or are we going to solve this problem?”

Davenport chuckled. “Do you see what I am dealing with, Mother? They are both impossible.”

Not true.Shewas impossible. Nicolas had been doing his damnedest to remain civil.

If Josie had heard Davenport’s proclamation, it didn’t seem to faze her. Probably because she was too busy spooning soup into her mouth. “I don’t get to eat things like this when I’m training, I don’t. Well, truth be told, I don’t ever get to eat things this fancy.” Josie put down her spoon and reached across the table to grab a roll. She shoved a large hunk into her mouth.

Davenport watched her with a lecherous gaze that made Nicolas see green.

His jealousy was utterly ridiculous. Surely, these odd emotions were simply the result of sleep deprivation. Additionally, it had been months since he’d lain with a woman. Not that carnal relations with Lydia were that gratifying. He put the thought of both out of his mind to focus on the situation at hand. Much safer.

“What do you eat when you are training?” Lady Davenport asked.

“Beef broth, plain porridge, and eggs,” Josie said around her mouthful of bread. “And for treats, I get oranges. I love oranges.” Sheeyed the roast beef, potatoes, and peas in the center of the table. Without being offered anything, she stood and reached to pile all three on her plate.

Davenport sniggered.

She shot him a look full of daggers. “I’m hungry, I am. You want me to let this delicious food go to waste?”