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The Duchess of Grandhampton looked at Emma, her eyes brightening again. “I told you. All he needed was a good woman to show him love.”
12
The next night, Sebastian, Preston, Lord Richard, and Grandhampton were in Grandhampton’s favorite boxing club, Portside, near the docks. Wrought iron chandeliers with candles hung from the high, vaulted ceiling. Lamps sat on every table, of which there were many. A boxing ring stood in the center, surrounded by rows of benches and chairs for the spectators that would come later to watch the fights.
Sebastian assumed his boxing position with a training pillow on each of his raised hands. Before him, a shirtless Grandhampton swung his fists into the pillows, the muscles of his powerful chest rolling and moving under his skin, his hard stomach glistening with sweat. He puffed out short bursts of air as he hit the pillows, the locks of his dark hair sticking to his wet forehead.
The room was quite empty at the moment. Preston and Lord Richard boxed with a trainer in another corner of the hall together with other men, some of whom were clearly gentlemen while others were workers, sailors, cooks, footmen, and anyone who wanted to learn the skill of boxing. A couple of gentlemen sat at the round tables talking and sipping port. A barmaid rubbed the cups with a towel behind a long bar.
It smelled like old sweat, leather, and alcohol. Sebastian liked coming here with Grandhampton, even though he fenced with Preston more often. But there was something very satisfying about the simple act of using one’s fists to take down an opponent.
“Did you contact Lamb?” asked Grandhampton as he bounced on his feet in front of Sebastian, taking a few steps forward and back as he punched.
“The solicitor you recommended?” asked Sebastian. “Indeed I did. I have an appointment with him tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” Grandhampton delivered a punch into Sebastian’s pillowed right hand that made his bones reverberate. “Come to Tyche tomorrow night. I’ll introduce you and your case to the Bishop of London. He’s a friend, and he’ll agree to hear you quickly.”
Sebastian stilled, and the next punch, which landed in the other cushion, almost made him fall over. “Thank you, Grandhampton. I mean it.”
Grandhampton chuckled as he straightened and brushed his wet hair from his forehead. “Quite all right, old friend. You’re like our fourth brother. Of course I will help you. It’s nothing.”
He breathed heavily, then looked around with a frown.
Sebastian turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Is anything amiss?”
“No…” Grandhampton said distractedly. “No. It’s just…I believe someone may be following me.”
“You?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes. Would Sir Jasper hire thugs to follow Grandhampton, too? Why? Did he imagine the Seatons could be a way to get to Emma?
“Ah. It’s nothing. Just someone I saw on the street at night…must be two weeks ago or so. I don’t even know who it was or what I saw exactly. I just know that something wasn’t right. Since that night, I’ve caught movement out of the corners of my eyes at odd moments. I’ve felt eyes on my back.”
Two weeks ago…that was before the wife sale. So it couldn’t be Sir Jasper. “Quite ominous,” said Sebastian. “Did you say anything to Preston?”
“Yes, I told him, but honestly, I regret saying anything because there’s no real substance to it, just a feeling.”
“Can I do something?” asked Sebastian, puzzled but concerned for the man who felt like the older brother he’d always wished for growing up.
Grandhampton grinned and took his boxing position again, bending his arms so that his elbows were in front of his rib cage and his fisted hands were up by his face.
“You can…” he said and delivered a punch into Sebastian’s left cushion “…be my punching bag.”
* * *
The next day, when Sebastian came back home from the meeting with the solicitor—who was sharp, knowledgeable, and experienced—he was in a great mood.
He went into Emma’s room to find her sitting with her legs under her, reading. She looked up at him as he entered, and the look of happiness on her face made his heart soar.
He allowed himself a smile. He found that his mouth had started doing that in her presence, stretching into a smile that he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—stop.
“Good news, darling,” he said as he came and picked her up and planted a deep kiss on her lips that left him craving more. “Heavens, you smell good…”
She giggled, her sweet, beautiful giggle. “Is that the good news?”
“No. The solicitor said you have a good case, even better with Grandhampton’s tips, and he will start making inquiries about the land to find proof that it was, indeed, sold before the marriage contract was signed.”
She leaned her head back and laughed. Her happiness melted him inside, and he chuckled with her. It was harder and harder to be the same sad man he’d been his whole life.
“I love coming back home to you,” he said.
