Page 84 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

Feeling comfortable and confident, Genevieve entered the dining parlor to find that many of the duke’s guests were already seated around the table. Jonathan held his word shield, and a newspaper was spread in front of him. He looked up from the paper and winked at her.

She hadn’t realized he’d traveled with the gift she’d given him. And he was reading in front of people as if he weren’t ashamed. Pride surged through her until she felt as if she were glowing. Together, they had conquered their demons.

“Help yourself, Gen,” the duke said. “Cook prepared everything a fighter, and a spectator, need to fuel for a long day.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said.

Hearing her voice must have shocked her companions because every gaze in the room turned toward her. Shockingly, she didn’t even color up. With her shoulders pulled back, she strolled to the buffet table and filled a bowl with porridge and fruit. She added a scoop of eggs and then took the seat beside Roseanna, who greeted her with a warm smile.

She and Roseanna ate in companionable silence as the hum of conversations swirled around them.

A few minutes later, Bear, Whale, and a guardsman named Shark, who sported sharp, knife-like teeth, entered the room. Apparently, they had arrived overnight while the rest of them were sleeping… Or tupping. She smiled at her porridge.

Grinning broadly, Whale sat on the other side of Genevieve. The chair squeaked beneath the bulk of his massive body, and his wide shoulder accidentally brushed hers. “You got lots to eat now,” he said in his tiny voice.

Genevieve suspected he was alluding to the times he’d thrown food out the back door of The Purple Rabbit for her, which meant that she’d been recognized—again.

“Thank you for the bread you gave me,” she said. She would have starved to death without this kindred soul’s kindness.

He patted his chest. “Whale and Miss Ghost are friends.” He pointed at her. “Ye’re pretty now, ye are.”

Goodness, this giant of a man with his limited speech and child-like innocence was sweet.

“I am happy you are my friend,” she said. Somehow, she would pay him back for what he’d done for her.

“I like sweetmeats and tickles.” He smiled so big that his eyes resembled slits above his round cheeks.

Apparently, the next step in their friendship was sharing their interests. “I like dogs and biscuits,” she said. And touches and kisses from a very handsome viscount.

Bear cleared his throat with a very loudAh, hmm.“The mill is already filled with spectators,” he announced in his ringmaster voice. Once everyone focused on him, he continued. “There are carriages parked everywhere, and the wagers are flowing. There is a lot of excitement about the female pugilists.”

Roseanna clasped Genevieve’s hand and squeezed.

“Gen, I like the white.” Bear pointed at her tunic. “But why aren’t you in your stage paint yet? And Roseanna, I wanna see you looking glamorous. Men want alluring. You’re a pretty chit beneath the men’s clothing. That ugly rag on your head has got to go. In the rubbish bin, I say.”

Roseanna scowled at him. “With all due respect, Bear, shove a burning hot poker up your arse. I’ll wear what I want, and so will Gen.”

The duke’s fork clattered onto his plate as his gaze traveled back and forth between the promoter and his champion.

“And this is why the classes shouldn’t mix,” Josie said with a snort, her words laced with sarcasm. At least, Genevieve suspected it was sarcasm since the female pugilist from the east-end had married a future earl.

Genevieve held Roseanna’s hand high, so that everyone witnessed their female solidarity. “I have decided I shall forgo a disguise,” she declared for all to hear.

The truth was that she no longer felt the need to hide behind the uncomfortable face paint.

Grinning, Jonathan folded his paper and leaned back in his chair. “Everyone, meet both my champion and my future viscountess, Genevieve Bailey, the sixth Earl of Shipley’s granddaughter.”

There were a few gasps, none of them Genevieve’s because she was much too busy smiling at her fiancé.

“We were correct,” Franny said to Josie.

“Of course, we are always correct,” Josie declared. “Dancing hearts are practically oozing out their ears and swirling around their heads.”

Bear roared with laughter. “Well, I’ll be bound. This is gonna be a fabulous exhibition match. I love me some feisty women.” He rubbed his hands together. “And I got myself an honest-to-God born and bred lady. Damnations, sometimes the Lord above smiles down upon a man, not that I deserve such blessings. But I’ll take ’em anyway, and I’ll be damned grateful. Although could you two lovelies at least pretend to dislike each other to appease the animals? I don’t want you permanently maimed or disfigured, but a snarl or two would be good for business.”

Roseanna snarled at Bear. Genevieve laughed, then enthusiastically followed her lead, adding some furious growls for good measure. Soon everyone, from the most powerful duke in England, to a henchman from the East End with shark-like blades for teeth, snarled and growled.

Bam! Bam! Bam! The Duke of Griffendale pounded on the table as if he were a red-bearded heathen king of an ancient Nordic tribe. The table vibrated, the cups shook, and coffee splashed.