The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,32

way, please.”

Lucinda followed her to another cleverly hidden door that Mrs. Emory swung open, disappearing to Lucinda’s left up a set of steep steps. She could hear the chatter of servants and the clang of pots and pans from the descending staircase. They exited a similarly hidden door as she followed the woman to a wide and quiet hallway.

“Perhaps you’d like to check your dress in here, miss, before I take you to the ladies’ retiring room down the hall,” the woman said and opened a door to a bedroom.

Lucinda hurried inside and turned to a wood-framed full-length mirror. Her hair needed repairing, and she did as best as she could without Giselle, repinning several curls that had come loose. She yanked her chemise back into place, adjusted her corset as best as she could, and then straightened the silk folds of her dress at her bosom. It would have to do, she thought, and hurried to the door.

“Follow me, miss,” Mrs. Emory said.

“Thank you very much.” Lucinda slipped into the room the woman indicated.

Muriell Thompson stood at one of the mirrors set up in the room and looked up when Lucinda walked in. Lucinda glanced in the mirror beside her and touched her hair with her fingertips.

“Miss Thompson.”

“Miss Vermeal.”

They turned to the door at the same time. Lucinda had no choice but to walk side by side with James’s sister.

“Mrs. Pendergast has hosted a lovely party,” Lucinda said as they descended the stairs.

“She has.”

Lucinda drew a breath and glanced ahead of her at the bottom of the steps. Her father stood there, tapping a finger on the newel post. She stopped when she reached the bottom step, smiling up at him, fully expecting Miss Thompson to continue on her way. But she did not.

“Hello, Papa. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you for at least thirty minutes.”

“I was upstairs in the ladies’ retiring room, if you must know,” she said and pursed her lips. “How gauche I am to mention it.”

Miss Thompson slipped her hand through Lucinda’s arm. “Miss Vermeal and I were enjoying a chat. I’m terribly sorry to have worried you, sir.”

Lucinda could barely believe her eyes, and if her father’s face was any indication, he did not believe her at all.

“Have you been introduced, Papa? This is Mrs. Elspeth Pendergast’s sister, Miss Muireall Thompson.”

“I have not,” he said and nodded to her.

“It was lovely chatting,” Miss Thompson said to her and walked away from them, back to the room where everyone was still having dessert and coffee.

Chapter 8

“Saw Jackson fight yesterday.”

“What? He’s in Philadelphia now?” James asked.

“Took the train to New York. Going to take my fare out of our next winnings,” MacAvoy said.

James stopped punching the sand-filled leather bag swinging in front of him. “You what?”

“Went to New York. Heard some rumors this kid was the real deal and wanted to see for myself.”

“Well? What did you find out?” James asked as he wiped his face with a length of toweling.

“He’s good.”

James turned. MacAvoy was looking at him steadily. He was not one to exaggerate or make false claims. He just told the truth as he saw it. “How good?”

MacAvoy took a breath. “Good enough.”

“I’ll just have to make sure I’m better.”

MacAvoy stared at him, not speaking until James began to hit the swinging leather again. He let the rhythm of his punches and the ensuing sound as he battered his fists against the heavy bag take him to the place where his concentration, his intent, canceled out all distractions. Sweat flew from his hair and ran down his back as he forced his tired legs to keep moving and bouncing. He lost track of time, where he was, how long he’d been thrusting his arms, until his knees shook with the effort to remain upright. He stopped, swaying on his feet, eyes closed while he fought to catch his breath. He would be ready for Jackson, one way or another. Two weeks. He had two weeks.

“Where am I taking you?” James asked Kirsty. Her eyes were lit with anticipation, and maybe nervousness, which was unlike her.

“To the University of Pennsylvania. I’m to meet Elspeth and Alexander there.” She held a hand against her stomach, taking short breaths. “Muireall will be furious if I go alone. You must take me.”

“Of course, Kirsty. Don’t get yourself upset. I’ll take you.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “What has you in such a fit?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m fine, James. How do