Page 87 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

That seemed to quiet the two men, but the rest of the crowd continued heckling the woman he loved.

“This ain’t a bloody promenade in the park,” a man off to the side yelled.

“I think she’s afraid of ’er own shadow, she is,” someone else called.

“Puddin’ on legs,” a reprobate shouted.

“Puddin’ on legs. Puddin’ on legs,” a couple dozen spectators chanted.

Jonathan couldn’t threaten everyone in the room. Or maybe he could, since he was a bloody viscount.

He sighed. Unfortunately, even a viscount in love couldn’t take on the entire bloodthirsty crowd. “Shite,” he growled to himself. Her movements were too haphazard. She was going to get hurt. “I need to stop this,” he told Nicolas.

Nicolas grabbed his arm, anchoring him in place. “No, Davenport. If you love her, you need to let her finish her fight. Just be here for her when it is over.”

Since he respected Nicolas’s opinion, he needed to calm down. Staring at the ceiling, he composed himself.

“Look.” Nicolas tapped his shoulder. “I think Gen caught her second wind.”

Jonathan snapped his attention to the ring, where Gen had cornered the larger woman and was hammering on her midsection.

“Bravo, Ghost!” Jonathan yelled as the bell clanged.

*

By the beginningof the eighth round, Genevieve’s endurance gave her a slight advantage, and she seemed to have gained energy. Conversely, Roseanna’s footwork had slowed, and her punches were not packing her earlier power. Jonathan, realist that he was, knew if the rounds had not been timed, Roseanna would have knocked Gen out early on, and then Gen could not have rallied to tire out her opponent.

He briefly wondered if their lovemaking had weakened her legs, but immediately tossed that thought to the cobbles since her endurance now shone. His best guess was that Gen had been suffering with a case of the jitters. She’d come a long way for a woman inflicted with voice-stealing anxiety. Still, if she were to continue competing, she would have to come up with strategies to temper her nerves. Musclemassa? Swiving until his thick rod was all she could think about? Even better. He grinned.

The final bell rang—not a second too soon for Jonathan. If anyone cared to ask his opinion, he would emphatically declare that watching someone punch the woman he loved was brutal.

“Thank fucking hell,” Jonathan whispered under his breath. “Bravo, Ghost,” he yelled.

“See, you just needed patience,” Nicolas said. “Gen redeemed herself.”

“Indeed.”

Nicolas patted Jonathan’s shoulder. “I am going to go tell Josie what a wonderful job she did coaching.”

Because his desire to hold Gen in his arms was immediate and overwhelming, Jonathan finally understood his friend’s constant need to be near his wife. They parted ways, heading in opposite directions.

As the crowd cheered, the lady fighters met in the center of the ring and hugged.

Jonathan reached the ropes, caught Gen’s gaze, and grinned. Her lips turned downward, and her brow furrowed in an unsettling expression that did not depict a woman who had accomplished a difficult goal.

She was probably exhausted. Or perhaps just disappointed that it had taken her so long to find her legs. “I love you,” he mouthed, hoping to make her smile.

Instead, her gaze slid to a man standing a few feet from him. It lingered there for a moment before she again looked at Jonathan, her eyes pleading. There was not a doubt in his mind; she was trying to communicate that this man was trouble.

The hair on the back of Jonathan’s neck rose as he prepared to climb into the ring and stand between Gen and whoever this bloke was. But someone grabbed his shoulder from behind, startling him. Jonathan whirled, intending to shove his assailant backward.

“Whoa, my lord.” Robinson raised his hands in surrender. “’Tis just me.”

Jonathan blinked in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I traveled all night,” Robinson said. “We need to talk.”

We need to talkusually meant one was about to receive horrible news, and Robinson’s visage screamed,we’ve got a problem. Perhaps his investigation had uncovered something troubling. More than likely, he’d discovered Gen’s identity and that her father was a murderer.