A Bride for the Prizefighter - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,46

ready for them over the window.

She was halfway down the stairs again when she saw Nye passing through the hallway below. “Nye!” she called, and slowly he turned to look at her, a ferocious glare on his face.

“Well, what is it?” he growled before she had reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ve finished the curtains and now I intend to clean those parlor windows,” she said breathlessly. “They’re filthy. I’ll need newspaper for it. Do you have any that you’re not saving for clippings?” He shook his head and her face fell. “Oh.” Then inspiration struck. “Tell you what,” she said affably. “You can direct me as to what sections you want saving and I can cut them out for you and even paste them in a scrapbook, if it will help.” Nye scowled. “After all,” she pointed out reasonably. “Those papers must have been collecting dust for years. They’re taking up valuable cupboard space.”

“No,” he said tersely.

She crossed her arms. “No?” she repeated. “Pray then, what am I to use?” He muttered something under his breath. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, you’re not going to let this lie, are you?” She shook her head obstinately. He wheeled about and headed back for the scullery. After a moment’s hesitation, Mina followed him. He was retrieving the first bundle of newspapers, she noticed with interest. “Follow me,” he said grimly and made for the kitchen where he cut the string binding them.

Mina watched as he rifled through the first newspaper, extracting one page which he set aside. “You can have the rest of it,” he said. Then he opened the next paper and repeated the process. Again, he removed one page and set it with the other and then handed her the remains of the paper. “Is that enough?”

Mina shook her head. He repeated the process with another two newspapers and Mina surreptitiously strained her eyes to scan the pages he removed. She could just about make out a headline of the top page Nye wins by knockout in third round. Oh, they were press clippings from boxing matches. “If you separate the rest of the pile,” she said. “Then I could do all the windows in the inn. Edna doesn’t really have the time,” she added quickly, anticipating his refusal. “Not with the day-to-day duties she already covers.”

He shot her a level look. “Not in the public bar,” he said tersely. Mina shrugged, perfectly willing to concede that point. Not another word passed between them as he swiftly separated the rest of the pile and stuffed his pages into his waistcoat. “You can have those,” he said, nodding to the discarded pile.

“Thank you.” She spent the afternoon cleaning windows. Her arms ached after she had completed the parlor bar, the kitchen, and the scullery. She stopped at six o’clock to take her solitary meal that Edna brought her which was a rich beef stew. After that, she contemplated turning in for another early night, but the idea frankly did not appeal to her.

She needed a bath, for though the newspaper left the windows sparkling, her own palms were stained with black newsprint. Before this though, she wanted to tackle the windows in the three private parlors. After all, Nye had banned her from the taproom, but he had made no mention of the private parlors.

Feeling vaguely defiant, she mixed up another batch of water and white vinegar and carried her bowl to the first of the parlor bars. The solution soon cut through the film of dirt, the smell of vinegar making her eyes water. She had just taken up the newspaper and was swiping it across the glass when she saw a sporting looking carriage career into the yard, taking the bend in the road far too fast. Mina let out an involuntary cry, for the carriage was leaning over so far that for an instant she thought it would overbalance.

Then, just as quickly, it righted itself. The gentleman sat atop it, pulled viciously on the reigns and the four horses came to a stop. He threw down his whip, righted his top-hat and swiftly climbed down, calling to a passing ginger bearded man who Mina vaguely recognized as fixing up the curtain rail for her the day before. He took the head of one of the horses and started leading it toward the stable before the gentleman shouted again, and then wrenched open the door to his carriage, dragging out a dainty looking female from its