Page 30 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

Thereupon, Jonathan cringed. Were the two of them, with their noncommittal tupping and refusal to take anything seriously, also abusive arses? The mere thought of being a swine felt like a punch to his gut. He’d never meant to be like the oppressive men of his class; he’d just been enjoying a privileged, carefree life, and using the charm and charisma God had blessed him with on the ladies.

“By the by, I did not tup Celeste the other night,” Griffendale said. “She started the night as your date, so it felt wrong.”

By God, Griffendale was becoming downright decent. First insight into Gen’s inability to speak, reflection on what was until just this moment roguish ways, and then refusing cunny simply because Jonathan had been with the lady—but not in bed with her—first. What was happening? Jonathan had never known him to care about such things.

Perhaps the world was coming to an end.

“But then you were behaving like such a bloody arse tonight that I lied,” Griffendale said. “The truth is, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve bedded anyone. I seem to be more concerned about my champion and beating Paulsgrove at the next Duke’s and Dame’s Mill. I think Roseanna can beat Priscilla Paulsgrove, but what if I’m wrong?”

Jonathan was at a loss as to what to say or do with the vulnerable duke. Maybe this is why they acted like scoundrels when they were together. He didn’t like it. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“No bloody idea.” Griffendale exhaled long and low. “Mayhap I need to take my mind off of all this boxing stuff and enjoy a good headboard slamming fuckfest.”

“Mayhap,” Jonathan said. As long as he stayed far away from Gen.

Griffendale shifted. “I believe the ladies are finished,” he said.

Jonathan slid his gaze to the lady fighters.

Her eyes bright, and her cheeks flushed, almost as if she’d just been tupped, Gen hung her rope on the hook and skipped across the room to his side. Sweat dripped down her forehead and soaked his shirt.

He inhaled the sensual scent of roses and sweaty female. If she were some other woman, he might associate the delicious smell with sexual congress, but thoughts of Gen naked beneath him needed to be kept at bay.

“You were quite good,” he said.

She pressed her palms together beneath her chin, as if sayingthank you.

“It looked as though you thoroughly enjoyed yourself,” Griffendale said.

Grinning, she nodded, then waved goodbye to Franny and Roseanna, who were standing by the dumbbells conversing.

They waved back.

It seemed Gen had made friends and the thought warmed Jonathan’s heart.

Griffendale clapped his back. “I had a jolly good time tonight, old chum. Nothing like a little friendly rivalry with one of mybest mates to get the blood flowing and take my mind off my woes.”

“Agreed,” Jonathan said.

“Then, I’ll see you on the morrow evening,” Griffendale said. “Same time, same place.”

A storm of biblical proportions would not keep Jonathan away. But it wasn’t the bet that had lit a fire beneath him, because after Griffendale’s honest confession, he wasn’t feeling his usual competitiveness. And once he told his mother what he’d done, she’d skewer him with her disappointed glare—the one that accompanied her pursed lips and indignant finger waggle and made him feel like a heel—unless she’d come to the same conclusion after finding out that Kilsby posed a danger and seeing how much fun their guest had training.

For once, his motivation was pure. He couldn’t wait to bring Gen back so that she could enjoy herself.

“Tomorrow evening,” Jonathan said. “That is, if you would like to return, Gen?”

She bounced on her toes.

He’d take that as ayesand proof that he was correct and that she belonged here.

“Let us head home now.” He pressed his palm into the small of her back and guided her toward the exit. “I’m famished. Mrs. Porter will have prepared something delicious.” Hopefully, something that would put some weight on his champion, quickly. Because she needed to gain at least a stone and a half so that the more muscular Roseanna didn’t knock her onto her arse seconds into the fight.

Chapter Ten

After a pleasantlate evening meal with the Davenports, Genevieve luxuriated in the warm bathwater that the footmen had carried to her room. Since she was pretending to be a lower-class lady, and they did not have ladies’ maids, she’d dismissed Diana for the evening. Not that she’d ever had a ladies’ maid. Horatio sat beside the copper tub, keeping her company as she scrubbed the sweat from her body.

“Oh, Horatio, The Silk Knuckles Saloon is amazing. I had so much fun. I think I did quite well.” Surprisingly, the secret fighting sessions with Christopher and the boys in town had taught her a lot. She had also picked up more technique than she’d realized watching fights with the big man named Whale. “Tonight, I worked on my stance, the basic punches, and grounding myself. I also skipped rope, which felt a lot like running and dancing at the same time. Can you imagine anything more wonderful?”