“All right. Let me skim this very long and convoluted article, full of blood and violence. So… the Beast was hit… Gorgeous won the third round… blood, blood, blood… punch, punch, punch, someone lost a tooth, goodness, so brutal!”
“Miss Haywood, please.” He shifted again.
“Fine. It’s the Beast. He won. Happy?”
He sagged. “No. I bet a quid on Gorgeous.”
“May I read something else? Does this magazine have at least a horoscope column?”
“The horoscope? That nonsense about the planets? Please no.”
She huffed. “Why not? It’s all the rage in American newspapers and magazines. Some newspapers here have started including them. They’re exciting. Let’s see… no, of course there isn’t anything remotely entertaining in this magazine, not even a comment on the weather. Of course, it’s a matter of taste. I appreciate you findingUppercutvery entertaining.”
If she was making faces at him, he would never know.
“Let’s see theHerald. Gossip column,” she said brightly.
“I’d rather read the horoscope.”
“But there’s an article about you.The brave and selfless Mr. Royston Alexander, a footman at the employment of Lord Havisham, was praised for his heroic acts by the queen herself. That’s good, isn’t it?Since Mr. Alexander disappeared from the public to take care of his injuries, we interviewed a few acquaintances of his and learnt that the proclaimed hero…” She coughed. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to read more about Gorgeous Ross. The poor thing lost the match. He must be distraught.”
He turned in the direction of her voice. “Miss Haywood, tell me what the article says.”
“It’s all silly things you don’t need to hear.”
“I do. Please?”
“But why would you… oh, fine.” She cleared her throat. “We learnt that the glorified hero of the terrible Theatre Royal fire is the son of a fallen woman. He grew up in a house of ill repute without a father…” A muffled noise rose. “Please, I don’t want to read this. I’d rather read about hooks and uppercuts.”
He acknowledged the sting of sorrow in his chest. “What they say is true though. I was born in a brothel. The girls who lived there helped my mother raise me. When I was a lad, I learnt to box from one of the nice jockeys. I kept the girls safe by kickingviolent jockeys out of the brothel. One of the girls taught me how to play the piano. Another one how to play chess. Another one taught me how to…”
No, he didn’t want to talk about dancing. About that rich jockey who had forced his mother to dance, using a whip, torturing her while the music had kept going until his mother had died. She’d suffered from a heart condition, and the forced dancing had been too much for her frail body. Just thinking about dancing made him sick to his stomach. A bitter taste soured his mouth. He scratched his face again, only to feel the sting of the pain and think of something else.
“Oh, I understand that, Mr. Alexander.” Her embarrassment slipped into her voice.
“I didn’t meanthatsort of thing, miss. I was referring to something else.”
“Those years must have been difficult for you.”
He opened and closed his fists. He usually didn’t talk about his past to anyone but having been blindfolded for a week made him a little desperate for company. He wanted to talk now, maybe because, with the darkness surrounding him, it was as if he were alone or in a confessional. Or maybe he was simply tired of keeping his story to himself, and he liked Miss Haywood.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he said. “I had a warm and safe place where to sleep. When the jockeys arrived, my mother would send me to sleep in a separate bedroom on the other side of the brothel. Despite that, I understood quite quickly what was going on in the other rooms. The girls spoiled me and took good care of me. I can’t say my childhood was horrible. There were bad moments, of course. A man, in particular, was very cruel to my mother. He used the whip...” No, he couldn’t go on.
A gasp came from her. “Heavens. I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll spare you the details. I apologise for having brought that up. It’s not something you want to hear, miss.”
He jolted when Miss Haywood touched his hand briefly.
“If you need to talk, I’ll be happy to listen.”
“No, it’s all right,” he said.
Minutes of silence stretched. He was glad she didn’t fill it with senseless chatter.
He touched the bandage again and scratched his skin. “I didn’t ask if you have other problems aside from the burn.”
“I’m all right. I stopped coughing quickly after the incident, thanks to a syrup my mother prepared for me. She’s a little shocked though.” Her voice lowered. “She hasn’t been the same since.”
