Page 87 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“Nay, ask the pugilist now.”

“Propose to the pugilist at her next mill.”

It seemed this newest debacle had been set into motion by Jonathon’s wager. Forget about punching; when this night was over, Josie would wrap her hands around the viscount’s throat and squeeze.

“If you do not propose, right this second…” To Josie’s horror, the baron pulled a pistol from his waistcoat and aimed it at Nicolas’s chest. “You all know I am justified for shooting him right here and now if he doesn’t propose marriage.”

A room full of men, and not one of them was doing a thing to stop this madness, therefore, Josie would take things into her own hands. She pushed the man in front of her to the side and stepped between the baron and Nicolas.

“Stay back, Josie,” Nicolas said, panic lacing his voice.

Jonathon caught her around the waist and pulled her backward.She fought his tug, but he yanked on her with so much force she lost her footing. He might be trying to protect her, but he was the fool who’d caused this particular muddle.

“Papa, please.” Tears streamed down Lydia’s cheeks. “Please don’t shoot Nicolas. I hurt my ankle, and he was getting me help.”

“I dare say, Small, do not kill him in the study,” the man who’d insisted the baron challenge Nicolas to a duel said. “Our wives and daughters are out there enjoying themselves and would be highly displeased to discover there is a dead man in the study. We’d never hear the end of it. I’ve told you before, meet him at dawn like a proper gentleman. We will be sure to tell the authorities you had no choice.”

“A duel? My money is on Wentworth,” one of the imbecilic aristocrats declared.

While trying to wriggle free from Jonathon’s grasp and listening to a group of men discuss wagers and a duel that might lead to a death, the bitter truth hit Josie: she could not punch her way out of this. She was powerless in Nicolas’s world. She was nothing to these men who saw women as inferior and weak and something to be won in a wager. Even an aristocratic lady held no power, evidenced by the fact that instead of standing up for herself or Nicolas, Lydia lay on the couch wailing like a child.

But Josie loved Nicolas. He’d treated her as an equal. No, that wasn’t quite correct. He’d treated her as if she were better than him. Her dreams had become his dreams. He’d either lose a duel or have to live with killing another man. She had no doubts. Nicolas would not survive the guilt. His soul was too gentle.

Her instincts told her the baron was bluffing, and that he would never shoot Nicolas or agree to a duel. He’d even dismissed the idea with a cowardly look in his beady eyes. This was simply a threat so that he could win some wager.

But could she take the chance?

In Nicolas’s world, men who deflowered aristocratic ladies marriedthem. It had been months since Nicolas had bedded Lydia, but hehadslept with her. Under the current circumstances, maybe it was in Nicolas’s best interest for Josie to let him go.

She swallowed hard to keep her tears from flowing. “Nicolas, propose to her. End all of this.”

“Please, Nicolas,” Lydia said between her slobbery sobs.

Nicolas stared into Josie’s eyes. “I love you, Josephine Martin.”

The baron uncocked the pistol, the sound a seemingly loud clink in the chaos. His hand quivered so much that Josie feared he had no control over his weapon.

“Ask my daughter to marry you, now,” the baron bellowed, “Or I will exact my pound of flesh.”

“This has gone far enough,” Jonathon said. “’Tis time for me to come clean.”

“What in the hell are you talking about, Davenport?” Nicolas asked.

“A duel is the proper way to end this,” the foolish man who wanted to make another wager said.

“There will be no duel,” an authoritative voice said. “Small, holster the pistol.”

Griffendale strolled into the fray, his hands splayed in front of him as if he were taming a lion. He dropped onto one knee and took Josie’s hand in his. “Will you marry me, Josephine Martin?”

What in the bloody hell? Josie ripped her hand from the duke’s grip. “What in the blazes are you doing?” She growled at him through clenched teeth. “There is an insane man threatening Nicolas. No, I won’t marry you.”

The duke grinned up at her as he inclined his chin toward the pistol.

Oh.

What a brilliant man.

She nodded.