Nathaniel shed his cloak. “I had some business to attend to first. I told you yesterday.”
“I hope you’re not plannin’ to fight in that,” the man, Arnold Merryweather, remarked, eyeing Nathaniel’s elegant attire. There had been no time for Nathaniel to return home to Mayfair to change his garments, nor had he wanted to invite the suspicions of his mother.
Nathaniel began to remove his fancy clothes. “Of course not. Do you think this is my first boxing match?”
“Certainly isn’t.” Arnold laughed, his scarred and grizzled face twisting into something like a happy grin. “There’s a lot staked on you tonight, so you’d better not get distracted like you did the other night. Thought it was the end of you—your fightin’ career, anyway.”
Nathaniel took off his boots until all he wore were his trousers. He liked to fight barefoot and had learned long ago that a shirt of any kind gave the opponent an advantage, allowing them to grab and yank. “I told you, I was tired. I told you I should not box that night, but you insisted because you had debts to pay.”
“Aye, I did. You made me a small fortune that night, even though I was half-certain you were about to get knocked out.” Arnold passed Nathaniel a pot of dark paste made from ash and tallow. It smelled vile, but it was the only thing that could disguise Nathaniel’s identity which was becoming more and more prominent, thanks to his mother’s meddling. He had tried a mask before, but his opponent had ripped it off. So, it had to be the paste.
Nathaniel began to smear the paste over his eyes, covering the top half of his face. “You should learn to have more faith in me, Merryweather. Have I let you down in all the years I have been doing this?”
All the years I was forced to do this,he neglected to add, for though it had begun as an involuntary sort of punishment, it had become the only thing in his life that kept his mind clear. Or, rather, the only thing that kept his doubts, insecurities, fears, and lingering pain from creeping in. He might have been a mediocre Duke, but he was a champion in the boxing ring.
“Not yet,” Arnold said, allowing Nathaniel’s second, Bill, to take over.
Bill Hodge was a withered shrub of a man with spiky white hair, a face that was a mess of wrinkles and liver spots, and a mouth perpetually twisted as if he was puffing on a pipe, but he was someone Nathaniel had come to trust—even if he used to be his father’s closest acquaintance.
“Not thinkin’ about that woman again, are you?” Bill asked as he set about rubbing Nathaniel’s tight muscles. Somehow, he always knew which ones were stiff and sore without Nathaniel having to say a word.
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “I was not thinking about her the other night. That is not why my opponent struck me. My foot slipped because I was tired and because the floor was slippery. It is quite simple and has nothing to do with Leah.”
“Aye, and I was born this morn with a silver spoon in me mouth,” Bill remarked, flashing a knowing look with his scrunched black eyes, squinted permanently after years of sailing.
Nathaniel had to laugh. “I promise, I was not thinking about her.”
“You wouldn’t have mentioned her to me at all if you weren’t thinkin’ about her half the time,” Bill observed. “Not that I mind. I think it’s good for you, truth be told. You shouldn’t be doin’ this no more. You should be settlin’ down and havin’ yourself a family. I never did understand why your pa brought you here when you were a lad, and I’ve kept me mouth shut all these years, but you might as well leave it all behind while you’re still a champion.”
Nathaniel shook his head, smearing the last of the black paste across the bridge of his nose. “I am not grateful to my father for many things, but this is one of them. Besides, I have something I need to buy, and it cannot be bought unless I win.”
“What? I thought your coffers were brimmin’, and not just ‘cause of what you make here,” Bill said, giving Nathaniel’s shoulders a pinch.
Nathaniel smiled. “Never you mind about the state of my coffers. Yes, I could purchase what I need to with my father’s fortune, but I would prefer to purchase it with the money I have made with my own efforts.”
“And you can’t just buy a ship or somethin’ like so many of your sort are doin’?”
“I have business ventures, Bill, but… I want to earn this money tonight, my way,” Nathaniel replied. He could not explain it and did not think Bill would understand even if hecouldexplain it.
Bill shrugged. “Then don’t be thinkin’ about that woman, else you’ll be in the sawdust faster than they can ring the bell. Think of everythin’ you’re angry about instead as you’ve always done.”
“How do you know that?” Nathaniel frowned at his second and longtime friend.
Bill tapped the side of his nose. “It’s like I said, I’m not keepin’ me mouth shut anymore.” He paused. “I was once like you, Nathan. I had a lot of rage in me heart and nothin’ could quiet it ‘cept this. Do you know how that ended for me?”
“With a broken nose and a full coin purse?” Nathaniel teased, but the old man seemed entirely serious.
“It ended with me bein’ alone, no wife nor children to speak of, kneelin’ in the dust next to you, worryin’ that you’re goin’ to get beaten black and blue,” Bill replied. “At least I’ve got the excuse of havin’ no other choice, but you’ve got choices, Nathan. Don’t want you makin’ the wrong one.”
Nathaniel sighed. “Do not worry for me, Bill. I am not yet thirty.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nathaniel winked. “That is the year that I shall relinquish all this, for, as I have been told so often, that is the year when I shall become weak and worthless and decrepit.”
“What a lump of old pigswill,” Bill scoffed. “I was at me prime at thirty, seein’ things your young mind couldn’t imagine aboard theRuby. It’s forty when the bones start to creak, and they’ll start creakin’ all the quicker if you keep fightin’.”
“That is somewhat comforting,” Nathaniel said. “Or, perhaps, you have just given me an excuse to continue for another twelve years.”
