Page 89 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

Grinning, the viscount plopped back onto his seat. “I would like to add that I did a damn fine job of managing all of the wagers.” He tapped his forehead. “I have quite the head for numbers. Which is a good thing since my notes aren’t always legible.” He colored up as if he hadn’t meant to admit his final sentence but quickly composed himself. “The important thing is, thanks to me—” he waggled his brows—“Nicolas and Josie are to be married two weeks hence.”

Nicolas half-heartedly dismissed Davenport’s hubris with the flick of his wrist, and although Franny clapped with delight, her father scowled.

“So, you see,” Davenport said, “while Nicolas and Josephine were arguing, the widow and I set the entire plan into motion. Obviously, they were attracted to each other from the start. You should have seen them take on that crowd at The Lyon’s Den, working together like finely tuned clock hands. Impressive as hell, I say.”

Bridget’s bottom lip stuck out like it had when they were children and Nicolas and George received bigger biscuits. “Why was I the only one who knew nothing about this wager?”

“Bridget dear,” Agatha said. “The widow stipulated that no one could interfere or tell Nicolas and Josephine what was going on. I do not mean to hurt your feelings, but keeping out of others’ affairs isn’t exactly your forte.”

What an ironic statement coming from a woman who loved to meddle. Although, unlike Bridget, Agatha kept her confidences.

“Not everyone knew,” Franny said. “Papa and I had no idea. So perhaps it was just thetonwho knew. Although, I suppose not even allof them were aware. Lydia didn’t seem to have any idea. Can you imagine your parents being untruthful with you to win a wager? No amount of wealth seems that important.”

“I suppose it is about more than blunt,” Nicolas said. Lydia’s past relationship with him may have had something to do with her father’s behavior. However, it probably only had a small influence. “I believe the desire to wager is akin to madness. One needs to win to feel almost intoxicated. I believe that is what my father suffers from. Without much thought, he destroyed his family in the process.”

“I can’t keep track of all those bloody wagers,” Coach Valentine said. “Placing a bet on a fight is much easier. Toffs think they live in a Shakespearean play. My late wife tried to read me those blasted stories.” He feigned a yawn.

“Do not worry, Calder,” Agatha said. “I understand your skepticism, but we all want the best for your girls and your gymnasium.”

Was it Nicolas’s imagination, or did Coach’s scowl soften? And if it had, was it Agatha’s assurance or the fact she was an attractive older woman and he a widowed man?

Egad!Falling in love had turned Nicolas sentimental.

“Coach, don’t be such a crosspatch. Now, you can train me for The Duke’s and Dame’s Mill. The best part is Griffendale gave me blunt up front. He is paying me to be his champion whether I win or not, so we don’t have to wait to pay for the building. Apparently, he’d always planned to give half the money to Nicolas if he won. He gave me the other half and told me to invest it in the gymnasium. Now, we can make the downpayment tomorrow.” Josie frowned. “I suppose ’tis back to beef broth, eggs, and plain porridge.”

“And oranges.” Nicolas would ensure she had all the oranges she could eat.

Josie’s proclamation seemed to cheer her disgruntled coach. He cast a subtle smile in her direction. “I am proud of you, Jojo.”

“Lady Siddons has asked if she may use the upstairs room at TheSilk Knuckles Saloon once a week for a meeting,” Josie said. “She would also like to participate in a class and learn to punch properly.”

“As would I,” Agatha declared.

“Me too,” Bridget said, “But I’ve been saying that for days now, and still, no one has taught me how to knock someone out.”

Josie chuckled. “This coming week, Bridget. I promise. But you are not permitted to walk along the street punching every man you see. I have recently discovered they aren’t all bacon-headed.”

Josie smiled at Nicolas, and he melted into a pile of mushy sentiment.

“Lady Siddons invited Isabelle and me to attend the meetings,” Bridget said.

“You girls shall fit in nicely,” Agatha said. “And Franny and Josephine, of course, we hope you will attend.”

“Even though we are not aristocrats?” Josie asked.

“Your husband will someday be the Earl of Shiredale.” Agatha waggled her finger at Nicolas. “Do not think your employment means you are not one of us. And Josephine and Franny, the two of you will be successful businesswomen, which we will need for our cause.”

Coach squirmed in his seat.

“What cause is that, Mother?” Davenport asked.

Agatha picked up her glass and sipped her wine.

Bridget’s eyes twinkled. She opened her mouth, then quickly clamped her lips together. Nicolas knew without a doubt that his sister wanted to know what thiscausewas, but she was trying to appear patient after being told she was too nosey.

“Nicolas and Josie invited me to move into their townhouse with them,” Bridget said. “I do not have to return with the estate manager Nicolas is sending to Blue Cliff Manor to look after our parents. I am highly pleased because I love London.”

“You can visit Greenpark House anytime,” Agatha said. “You all can. Including you, Calder. I shall be lonely without company.”