A Bride for the Prizefighter - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,150

half of them were of looks of envy, for theirs was quite the liveliest party in the whole venue and certainly with the most striking looking men.

Mina sighed now as she removed the mother of pearl clips from her hair that Nye had bought, and ran a brush through her locks. “Effie was in fine looks tonight, I thought. I wonder Jeb does not marry her,” she mused aloud. “She’d make him a fine wife, I’m sure. She’s so exceedingly kind-hearted.”

Nye snorted. “She was a pick-pocket from an east end slum when Jeb took up with her. Don’t go running away with the notion she’s some sweet thing from the wrong side of the tracks. She’d cut your purse strings soon as look at you.”

Mina set her brush down, her breath coming fast. “You’re wrong Nye, and in any case, I don’t care if she was a thief or where she’s from. She was the only person who was kind to me on my wedding day and I will never forget that!” Her voice broke with emotion over the last few words, and flushing to the roots of her hair, a mortified Mina bounced up from her seat and ran into the adjoining bathroom, bolting the door shut.

“Mina!” Nye hammered on the door, close behind her. Indeed, she’d only just managed to slam the door in his face. “Open this door!”

“No, I’m getting undressed, give me a minute,” she lied in a wobbly voice. Why, oh why were tears coursing down her cheeks? She was acting like a complete fool! She made a grab for a face cloth.

“I’ll break this door down,” he threatened, rattling at the catch.

“Nye, please just give me a moment!” she begged, furiously wiping her eyes. “Please!”

There was a loud bang and a splintering of wood and Mina screamed, wheeling around as the door swung violently back and lurched off its hinges. “Nye!” she gasped in dismay. He was already striding through, yanking her roughly into his arms. “Nye – the door!” she wailed, looking at where it hung drunkenly off its hinges.

“Fuck the door,” he said succinctly and scooped her up into his arms. An urgent hammering started at the door leading from the corridor. Nye strode straight over to it, with Mina still in his arms and threw it open.

“Sir!” started an outraged hotel employee.

“My wife fainted in the bathroom,” he said coolly. “Put the damages on my bill.” Then he pushed the door shut with one booted foot. Mina, her eyes very wide, saw the tight disapproving faces of a few other guests focused on them. ‘Riff-raff’, she saw one old woman whisper loudly to her companion.

Mina gave a hysterical giggle. “Oh dear. I seem to have turned into one of those women that causes scenes,” she murmured. “This reminds me of that first night I arrived at The Harlot,” she said as Nye carried her over to the bed and laid her carefully down.

“How?” he murmured, sliding onto the bed beside her. “Tell me, I want to know.” He rolled into her capturing one of her hands in his in the pillows above and twining their fingers.

“Well, because I was so shocked as I went from room to room, trying to find somewhere to sleep.” She wiped her eyes with her other hand. “I had led such a sheltered life till that point,” she mused wryly. “You wouldn’t believe what an eye-opener it was. That night, you’d had a boxing match in the yard,” her eyes rose to meet his and she was disconcerted a moment by the expression his held.

“I remember,” he said gruffly. “Keep going.”

“Well, the place was full,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m sure you recall. I met you on the second landing.” Her eyes slid away, but his long fingers caught her chin and drew her back to face him. “How is this like that night?” he persisted.

Mina gave an awkward laugh. “Well, there were prizefighters all over the place and – and their company,” she said.

“Mmm,” he agreed, his hand sliding down to cup her between her legs, over the pale pink silk. Mina gasped. “Like you’re my company now?” he suggested huskily.

“Yes,” Mina agreed breathlessly. “Someone – I’m not sure who, for I did not know everyone’s names at the time – well, he was fighting with a woman in the front bedroom. At least...” She frowned. “Now that I think about it must have been Clem, for the female shouted, ‘I’ll see you hanged, Clem Dabney,