Blast you, Bill!It was hard enough as it was, but if Nathaniel had to repeat that awful experience of pushing Leah away, it would become impossible to bear.
“You didn’t need to say aught. I might’ve lost half me hearin’, but I’m not blind, and I ain’t stupid, neither,” Bill replied, clearly pleased with himself. “As for that Jonathan fella, all you have to do is say the word, and me and the boys will see to it that he don’t say a word about nothin’.”
Nathaniel held his head in his hands. “I do not want Jonathan dead, Bill.”
“Who said anythin’ about dead?” Bill tutted. “What d’you take me for? We’ll just gently persuade him to keep his mouth shut. A weddin’ gift to you if you like. All you have to do is talk to the girl and bloody well marry her, so I can finally have meself a peaceful night’s sleep not worryin’ about you anymore.”
Nathaniel cast his friend a sideways glance. “How gently would you persuade him?”
“Verygently.” Bill grinned. “As for gettin’ you to make things right with Leah—how much more of a nudge is it goin’ to take? Truth be told, I was disappointed when them lasses told me what you’d done, pushin’ her away like that. Never known you to back down from a fight.”
It was, perhaps, everything Nathaniel needed to hear and everything he did not want to. Since he was eleven years old, Bill had beenhisprotector, stepping up to a role no one else would take. Of course, Bill had not been able to stop Nathaniel from entering the boxing ring at his father’s command, but it was Bill who had washed away the dirt and blood in those early years. It was Bill who had bandaged him up, Bill who had applied salve to bruises and cuts, Bill who had ensured he got home safely when his father decided to drink and make merry in London, almost forgetting he had a son at all. And on many occasions when Nathaniel was younger, it was Bill who had climbed into the ring and carried him out while Nathaniel’s father had been content to continue giving the crowd the bait dog they wanted.
Bill had been the constant in Nathaniel’s life. Even when Nathaniel was older, Bill had made it his mission to try and steer him away from the boxing altogether though he had never pushed or made demands; he had always wrapped it up in a jest. Now, Nathaniel began to realize it had never been a jest—all Bill had really wanted was to see Nathaniel free and happy, away from the unpleasantness of the boxing matches and the seedy characters therein. At the same time, Bill had understood why Nathaniel needed it… until he did not anymore.
Nathaniel had been the son Bill never had while Bill had been the father Nathaniel never had.
“I have been fighting since I was eleven for nothing at all, and now that I have something to fight for, something I truly desire, I… cannot do it,” Nathaniel whispered, his voice breaking. “I told her I was not worthy of her, and though I said it for her sake, to protect her, I am beginning to think there was a morsel of truth in it. I am… scared, Bill.”
Bill put his liver-spotted hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Of what?”
“Of everything that comes after,” Nathaniel said. “Of having everything my heart could ever want. What if it is taken away? What if I am no good at it? What if there are children? What if… I am a terrible father? What if I cannot make her happy?”
Bill smiled. “Take it from an old codger, you’ll do all right. You’ll have your moments when you stumble, and it’s hard, and you don’t know if you can get back up, but you’ll get back up anyway, and the good times will come again.” He drew in a rattling breath. “But you’ve helped raise that brother of yours, and he seems well enough—a little strange, but aren’t we all?”
“I suppose we are.” Nathaniel watched a little black beetle weave through the gravel beside his feet.
“As for you makin’ Leah happy—her friends must think you’re capable, else they wouldn’t have come all the way to me to see what was amiss with you pushin’ her away,” Bill said. “They’d have gathered together, drinkin’ brandy they’d nicked from their pas, cursin’ your name instead.”
Nathaniel raised his head, blinking. “That is peculiar, is it not?”
“Nay, it’s not peculiar, it’s your last chance, right there for the takin’. The fact Leah hasn’t said a word about you in them scandal sheet things yet says a lot, too,” Bill urged. “So, don’t be a coward. Your pa was one, but you ain’t. Make it right. You said you’ve finally got somethin’ to fight for, so stop chatterin’ about it, and do it. Oh, and I ought to tell you, you’re no longer welcome at the warehouses.”
Nathaniel frowned. “Whyever not?”
“‘Cause 'the Highwayman' has retired, and I’m makin’ sure it stays that way,” Bill replied with a crooked grin. “But I might visit you from time to time and give you a kick up the arse when you’re feelin’ sorry for yourself again. That is, ifI’mwelcome?”
With hope flaring in his broken heart, Nathaniel swept his old friend into a tight hug, squeezing him until he felt Bill hug him back. They stayed like that for a minute or two, unable to say a thousand things to one another, yet saying it all in that one embrace. Almost two decades of gratitude and respect, concluding in that one moment.
“You are always welcome,” Nathaniel whispered, his throat constricted with tears he would not dare to spill in front of his old friend. “I mean it.”
Bill patted Nathaniel’s back. “And what of that Jonathan fella? Any decisions?”
“Thank you, but no,” Nathaniel said, realizing the magnitude of what lay ahead. “If I can persuade her to forgive me, to love me, then I shall contend with him myself. If not, it will not matter.”
Bill pulled back. “I’ll be cheerin’ for you, either way.”
“Thank you,” Nathaniel murmured. “Always, thank you.”
Bill smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. The match ain’t over.”
“I know.” Nathaniel took a breath, wondering where on Earth to begin, for pushing someone away was far easier than praying someone would come back.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
“Might you do something with your face, Leah?” Ezra grumbled, shaking his head. “Goodness, anyone would think you had just received some terrible news! Sarah, my darling, have you ever seen such a morose expression on a young lady’s face? A young lady who will one day be a duchess at that!”
Leah bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to cry. “It truly warms my heart to hear your compliments, Father. You should toss away your book of insults and begin another entitled,Ezra Bolton’s Compendium of Compliments to Ensure Your Wayward Daughter Always Doubts Herself.”
