Page 24 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

He stared into space.

“Jonathan, do you have another headache?” his mother asked.

He guzzled.

The dowager raised a skeptical brow.

“We ran into Kilsby today when we were walking,” he said.

Lady Davenport hacked out a shocking, unladylike sound that further endeared her to Genevieve.

“If he comes around, we need to send him away,” the viscount said. “I’ve already talked with Peters, and he is to alert the rest of the staff.”

“Why in heaven’s name would Lord Kilsby show uphere?” Lady Davenport asked.

Jonathan slid his gaze to Genevieve. “I’m not sure.” He stared at her, his lips pursed.

Genevieve swallowed. She simply couldn’t tell them the horrible story because if she did, she’d have to say who she was, which might pique their curiosity. Questions and answers might lead to her deepest secret. She simply could not take that chance. And unfortunately, even if she tried to tell the truth, her throat would close.

As Lady Davenport regarded Genevieve with a compassionate countenance, invisible fists wrapped around her throat and squeezed until she gasped.

“I see,” Lady Davenport said. “Jonathan, you were correct.”

“As usual,” he said with his crooked grin. “But perhaps you will enlighten me as to which thing I am correct about this time. When there are so many, they all blend together.”

“Heavens above.” Lady Davenport looked at the ceiling as if the answers to her son’s taunting were etched in the carved medallion. Turning her attention back to him, her jaw tensed. “You should introduce Gen to Josephine and Franny. And thesooner the better. Some punching lessons might be in order. Not prizefightingper se, but something a bit more serious than the ladies’ exercise sessions. I suppose a cross between fighter training and defense skills. I am headed to The Silk Knuckles after I change clothing.” She stood and then strolled from the room, calling over her shoulder, “I shall take my carriage and meet you there.”

“No time like the present.” The viscount chugged the rest of his drink, stood, and placed his glass on the side table. “Come along, Gen. Floppy can wait here. My footmen adore him and would be happy to entertain him.”

Genevieve didn’t want to leave the safety of Greenpark House. However, she was curious about The Silk Knuckles Saloon and The Ladies Autonomy League. That meant she needed to leave the drawing room. Besides, with Kilsby running around London she should probably learn authentic fighting skills, not just the ones she and Christopher had made up.

The moves she could imitate after watching a couple of fights at The Purple Rabbit might be enough to keep her from making a complete fool of herself. Remaining in the viscount’s presence was an added bonus. But only because he made her feel safe, not because he made her heart flutter.

Alluding to butterfly wings tickling her heart and girl parts was beyond silly, so much so that she needed to put an end to that nonsense.

But before she went anywhere, she needed to change back into her disguise. And then she would pray that no one at The Silk Knuckles Saloon recognized her.

*

The second Genevieveentered the old factory-turned-gymnasium, she knew this was where she belonged. A powerfulenergy crackled, vibrated, and zinged, invigorating her. Almost two dozen men and women exercised, and her muscles craved to join them.

Sandbags hung from the ceiling, and dumbbells and skipping ropes were organized along a side wall. Pugilists sparred in two roped rings. In the back of the massive space, a group of women, which included Lady Davenport, were moving freely, without a care in the world.

“The Silk Knuckles is so scandalous that many men in parliament have tried to have it closed down,” Jonathan whispered in her ear.

She didn’t doubt it. Men and women engaged in sport. Together!How taboo.“Some men are afraid of strong women,” he said. “A cowardly bloke even tried to burn down the building. Obviously, he failed. But it was a close call, and all because his wife wanted to learn to defend herself against his physical abuse.”

Genevieve swallowed.

“So, after that scandal, we have a new rule,” Jonathan continued. “While the ladies’ class is in session, the gymnasium is closed to most men. The young lads who help maintain the gymnasium are an exception, as are coach Valentine’s champions. In fact, the men in the closest ring are The Trojan and Thumbs McCartney. And the man instructing them is Calder Valentine, the best coach in London. Some say even better than Gentleman Jackson. In the far ring are my best mate, Nicolas Wentworth, and Bow Street Runner Edward Robinson. They do not compete. They spar for exercise. They have their hands full attending to their spirited wives, Josie and Franny.”

How wonderful that husbands supported their wives’ dreams. Genevieve didn’t know that men like that existed. Although perhaps Christopher would someday be such a man, since he was kind and wise, unlike their father. If only she couldshare this amazing oasis with her brother. Undoubtedly, he would thrive in this atmosphere of companionship, competition, and self-improvement. And even Sophia, maybe…

Lord Davenport pointed at a man and a woman beside a sandbag. “That is the Duke of Griffendale, and he is working with Roseanna Chapman.” The viscount chortled. “He thinks he is teaching her how to hit, but that woman could knock him out with one blow.”

She must have been rather impressive, because the duke was massive. He was also quite handsome, although, in Genevieve’s opinion, not as comely as the viscount. The lovely Celeste must have needed her head examined if she’d chosen Tristan Keats over Jonathan Davenport.

“The lads hefting the dumbbells are Sky and Charlie,” the viscount said. “Responsible and resilient, those two.”