Page 96 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

Gen held up her palm. “Don’t spread tittle-tattle.”

“But this is about Lord Kilsby,” Christopher said.

“Oh, Gen, please let him tell us.” Sophia blinked her wide pleading eyes and wiggled her nose. The chit had mastered the art of adorable manipulation.

Gen sighed.

“Well,” Christopher said, “He has pox marks on his hands. You know what that means?”

Gen shivered.

“No, what?” Sophia asked.

As much as Jonathan would enjoy reveling in Kilsby’s public shame, he had no desire to make the women uncomfortable. “Let us move onto more appropriate conversation in the company of ladies.” It seemed like marriage might be turning him into a respectable gentleman.

“I hear that Mad Hurricane Meg is dashed good,” Christopher said, bringing the conversation back to Gen’s fight. “They say her moniker is well-deserved.”

“She is not as good as The Ghost.” Jonathan winked at his wife.

Sophia struggled to swallow the large bite she’d just shoved into her mouth. He needed to end the silly wager before the girl cast up her accounts all over the pastel tablecloth.

Sophia finally forced the bite down. “No one is as good as The Ghost.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gen said. “Bear told me that Meg is quite good. He found her dressed as a man and fighting in horrific conditions. She is training at the St Giles Gymnasium that the Valentines used to own. Bear said that she is so wild and undisciplined that a well-conditioned, intelligent fighter can beat her. I dare say, I feel well-prepared for this mill.”

“You will beat her.” His wife could accomplish anything she set her mind to.

“Genevieve, you truly are amazing,” Caroline said. “I must confess, I am quite envious of your pluck.”

Jonathan’s heart warmed every time he was reminded that his sister and wife had become fast friends.

Sophia picked up a pastry and glowered at it before blanching and dropping it onto her plate. “Maybe I will be aboxer, too. I am going to take the ladies’ exercise class with Lady Davenport. No one will ever hurt me again.”

Whether she learned defensive skills or not, no man would ever hurt Sophia now that she lived under Jonathan’s roof. Still, he was of the opinion that every woman ought to know how to blacken the eye of an assailant without a man’s assistance.

“And Gen is going to teach a class at The Silk Knuckles Academy for Enterprising Ladies, once it is up and running,” Sophia declared proudly.

“Oh?” Caroline asked. “What class will you be teaching, Genevieve?”

“I know ’tis not proper for a viscountess to have a trade, so I am volunteering to teach reading classes for working-class girls,” Gen said.

“Viscountesses also should not engage in fisticuffs.” Christopher grinned.

Genevieve playfully punched her brother’s shoulder. “As I was saying, the school is Lady Milton’s project, and I owe her for a favor she did for me once upon a time.”

Ah. Gen had not forgotten the coin Celeste had pressed into her palm. Even though she was now a beloved pugilist earning her own blunt, and married to a wealthy lord, she was still appreciative of a meager coin. Just another endearing quality to love.

Whimpering, Sophia pushed her plate back.

“Shall we go?” Jonathan asked. “On the way home, I would like to stop by the Planks’. What do you think, Sophia?”

Her brow rose as it often did when she was waiting to find out what new taunt he had up his sleeve. “Who are the Planks?”

“Our neighbors, who own a menagerie. I hear they have a new litter of kittens.”

“Really?” Sophia asked, her hands clasped together beneath her chin as if she were praying that he was serious.

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod.