The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,69

a walk Saturday morning just as the sun was peaking over the horizon. He needed to clear his head, and he’d come to some decisions. Yesterday, he’d had a long discussion with his brother-in-law and had given Alexander the account numbers to access all the money he had saved and the location where the rest of the gold coins from Scotland had been hidden in the house. He’d gotten his affairs in order, as the saying went, but there was one final piece he needed to conclude, and he soon found himself staring at Lucinda Vermeal’s home.

He rapped with the knocker after a few moments of indecision. Her butler finally opened the door, looking as though he’d pulled on his jacket in a hurry. He imagined he’d interrupted the servants at their breakfast.

“Would you make sure Miss Vermeal receives this?” he said.

Brandleford looked down at James’s hand holding the letter he’d finalized the previous evening after several drafts.

“I put you in an awkward position with your mistress the other day. I’m sorry about that,” James continued.

“Yes, sir,” he said finally. “I’ll see that Miss Vermeal receives it.”

“Thank you.”

James blew a breath as he walked down the stone walk. He’d written some things in that letter that, for as glib as he could be, he could not say. It was done now. He could hardly go back and tear the letter from the butler’s hand and rip it to shreds. And anyway, he had to get ready for tonight. He had to be at his best. For himself, his family, and for his future.

Lucinda lay in bed that Saturday morning thinking about the evening, when James would step into the ring. She was terrified for him, but she knew there was no telling him what to do or how to live. She detested that part of his character as much as it made her admire him. He was his own man.

“Miss Vermeal?” Giselle said as she came through the door from Lucinda’s dressing room. “Mrs. Howell is wondering if you would like any of the breakfast that has been laid out.”

“Please tell her that just tea and some toast here in my room would be sufficient. And tell the kitchen I don’t think I’ll be wanting any luncheon either. Perhaps just some soup or whatever Cook has made for the staff.”

Giselle returned with her tea and a message that there’d been a letter for her hand-delivered to Brandleford. “He said he told the gentleman that he would put the letter into your hands himself and will not allow me to carry it to you,” Giselle said in a huff.

Lucinda smiled. “Then you’d best get me dressed so I may retrieve it.”

She was not smiling when she sat down in her office, holding the letter, staring at it as Brandleford told her that Mr. Thompson had delivered it early that morning, not long after seven.

“Thank you, Brandleford,” she said softly. “I’d prefer not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, miss.”

She stared at the envelope for some time, running her finger over her name. She broke the seal and pulled the letter out.

Lucinda,

My sisters tell me that the reason you are angry with me is because of tonight’s fight. They are angry with me as well and frightened too. I wanted you to know that I don’t dismiss your fears and am glad you’re concerned about me. I’ve done everything in my power to prepare for tonight, both physically and mentally, this letter being the final piece of that preparation.

I’ll be making some changes in my life after tonight, which I’m hoping to announce if I am the winner, but regardless of the victor, I’ll still be making those changes, perhaps just not as successfully. My future must coincide with my age, abilities, and opportunities. But tonight, even as you may detest the violence, I’ll be fighting for you, landing every punch, for you alone.

You’ve captured me, Lucinda, and gifted me yourself. I love you. I’m not good at saying those types of things out loud, but it does not change the facts. I love you. Whatever happens tonight, know that you are my North Star, the shining light that guides me and makes me a better man.

Your servant,

James Thompson

“You foolish man,” she whispered. “You foolish, foolish man.”

She pulled a clean sheet of stationery from her desk and wrote a quick note. She handed it to Brandleford after leaving her office.

“Please get this to Mr. Laurent, the butler at my father’s home, and ask that he