Page 82 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“Of course, Josephine.” Resting his palm on the small of her back, in what she was certain was an indecent touch, he escorted her from the ballroom.

Where in thedevil was Nicolas, and why had he left her alone with a feral duke? For the second time since arriving at the study, Josie ducked beneath his arm and pivoted out of his reach. A less athletic woman might not be able to evade a man this large and determined. Fortunately for her, she was an expert at playing defense. Unfortunately for him, there was a very good chance she might blacken both of his pretty blue eyes.

His legs were so long that with one deep lunge, he backed her into a corner.

She placed her fist on his hard-as-stone stomach. “I’m prepared to use it, I am.”

He waggled his eyebrow as if engaged in horseplay. “Lucky me. A punch to the breadbasket from the beautiful Jabbing Josie is every man’s fantasy.” He lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back.

Had she heard him correctly? Had he just called her by her fighting name?

He winked.

She dropped her arms, letting her limp wrists hang by her side. “You know who I am?”

“From the second I saw you enter my aunt’s ballroom. Of course, I was expecting you. May I say, as lovely as you are with your fists flying, you are even more beautiful in that gown.”

The dashed man had been toying with her this entire time. “And still…” She threw her hands in the air. “You chased me around the room as if you were a starving rat and I was a piece of cheese.”

He laughed so hard that tears dripped from his eyes. “I had no intention of taking advantage of you. I just wanted to see how long it took for you to tell me the truth.”

“I would have taken away your ability to produce an heir before I let you take advantage of me,” she said, meaning it whole-heartedly. “The truth is, I am here to convince you that I should be your champion for the Duke’s and Dame’s Mill. Ruth the Jewel is a charlatan and a cheat. She can’t beat Lady Paulsgrove.” Josie rested her hands on her hips. “But since you were expecting me, I suppose you already know this.”

“Actually, I did not know. However, after the last few days, I was hoping. Let us have a seat and discuss the matter.” He guided her to a large desk that dominated the room. He hiked his hip onto the corner of the ancient piece and invited her to sit in the chair across from him.

The duke had just contradicted himself. He didn’t know why she was there, but he’d expected her? And what event in the last few days was he referencing? Utterly nonplussed, she sat and stared at him expectantly.

“It seems like there were easier ways to get my attention than showing up here pretending to be something you are not,” he said.

Of course there was an easier way, but the Widow of Whitehallhad made a buffoonery out of Josie and Nicolas’s lives.

“I planned to ask you after my fight at The Lyon’s Den, but by the time I’d knocked out my opponent, Ruth was sitting on your lap. What a hideous display.” Josie’s fists involuntarily clenched, and she fought a gag. “I jumped into the crowd to get to you before you left with her, and then all hell broke loose.”

“I’ll say. That was quite a row.” His eyes clouded over as if he enjoyed reliving the out-of-control brawl. When his gaze cleared, he sighed. “Ruth was involved in an incident three days ago and ended up in the local gaol for prostitution. I’m sure she will be out in time, but I’d prefer a reputable fighter.”

Prostitution?No surprise there.

Griffendale leaned forward and pointed at Josie. “I do not appreciate the way you are looking down your nose at me. Not that it’s any of your concern, but I did not tup her. The rumors about me are false. I may be a bit free with my attention, but I most certainly do not bed my fighters. Makes for messy business exchanges.”

And just like that, Josie’s opinion of the man grew favorable.

“So, you see, I no longer have a champion,” he said. “That is, unless you would like the honor?”

Since no one but a grinning duke was currently watching her, Josie leaped from the chair and wriggled about in a happy dance. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I will be your champion, and I will win the fight, I will.” She halted her bounding, so that she could meet his gaze. “With my share of the purse, I plan to help pay for a building and open a gymnasium with my coach and my best friend.”

“I dare say, you are quite confident,” he said. “Lady Paulsgrove is an excellent fighter, she is twice your size, and she has been training all year for this.”

“I’ve been training my entire life.” Contemplating how to phrase her next request, Josie plopped onto the chair.

Griffendale smirked. “Is there something else?”

“I suspect you know what else I plan to say,” she said.

“Aye, I do. I think it is a splendid idea. I will announce your engagement. Let us head back to the ballroom.”

She balked. “But when you ask me, I am supposed to say ‘no.’” Where in the devil was Nicolas? If the hideous Lydia had interfered with their plans, she’d have to beat the woman to a repulsive blond pulp.

His brow furrowed. “When I ask you what?”