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Simon laughed. “You know ‘the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men’ and all that.”
Harry still wondered where Simon received an education that would have him reciting Robert Burns. While his mother had been an opera singer, Simon’s stepfather was only a lowly baker. Perhaps his mother had been well educated. She’d been cultured enough to keep his father engaged for over a year.
“Do you still box?” The idea of a ride had been a good thought, but Harry needed more.
Simon’s lips rose slowly. “I own a gaming hell. Of course, I visit the pugilist saloon with my man Riley at least once a week.”
“Want a go at me?”
“A chance to punch my older and titled brother. Who could resist such an opportunity?”
“Excellent,” Harry replied. “Shall we head to Bond Street, then?”
“At this hour?”
“Yes.”
Simon nodded. “As you wish. Am I supposed to take it easy on you?”
“No,” Harry replied, urging Hercules to a walk. “Just not the face. I don’t want to scare my daughter.”
“Or any of the unmarried ladies.”
Harry cringed. “Please, not a word about that after last night.”
“So, this is about relieving some frustration from the ball. Not to worry, then. I do know how to aggravate many people.” Simon rode ahead with a chuckle.
Harry couldn’t help but smile at his younger brother. Already, a feeling of lightness slipped over him after a few quick words with Simon. Once they arrived at Gentleman Jackson’s Saloon, they stripped down to just their trousers and shirts.
“You two are in early,” Jackson said as he entered from the rear of the establishment. “I do hope you both are here strictly for exercise.”
“Of course,” Harry replied, knowing Jackson’s reputation for following strict rules.
“Excellent. I have an appointment with a lady who likes to box in private for exercise.” Jackson picked up his hat and headed for the door. “Good morning, Your Grace, Mr. Kingsley.”
“A woman who likes to box,” Harry commented as Jackson departed. “How odd.”
“Sounds like my kind of lady. Gloves?” Simon asked, pointing to a selection of boxing gloves.
“Yes.” Simon preferred bare-knuckle boxing, but Harry only wanted to relieve a bit of frustration.
“Was it the blonde or the brunette who has you so bothered today?” Simon asked, holding up his fists to block a punch.
If Harry could have clenched his fists tighter, he would have, but the gloves where so thickly padded, he couldn’t. How did his brother determine the source of the issue so quickly? “Louisa,” he muttered, striking out but he hit nothing but air as Simon nimbly moved away.
“Your dear friend.” Simon’s fist snaked out and landed a hard punch to Harry’s side.
“Yes,” he bit out before finally getting a blow to Simon’s midsection.
“If you’re so bothered by her, why is she not the one you are courting?” Simon danced away from another attempt.
“I cannot.” Harry groaned as his brother hit him again. “Dammit.”
“Come on, Harry,” Simon taunted. “Hit me. Think about how it felt to watch her dance with other men last night. How it would feel if you could only kiss her.”
Harry’s anger flowed over him like molten lava, firing his fists to action. He finally landed a punch that sent his younger brother reeling backward.
“That’s more like it,” Simon groaned before waving him back. “Come on.”
