AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirteen
“Retreat instantly; you have not a moment to lose. Virtue impels you.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
“Jab. Jab, jab.” Matilda missed. “Jab, wallop,” she tried for variation, fists flying in front of her.
Why had she never tried Porter Ale when worries had bitten at her heels? Any troubles wafted away upon a cloud of brown froth.
“Because tomorrow,” a male rumble answered, “your head will feel like Thor’s hammer is beating a staccato rhythm upon it.”
Had she said that aloud then? And how well-educated Mr Hawkins was. No wonder his moniker had been Seth the Scholar.
“I do have an extensive library.”
She paused as they exited the tight alley that led onto Pall Mall. Apparently, her thoughts were being voiced. Porter Ale truly was a wonder.
“Jab,” she tried once more, punching out with her fist to the shadows.
A firm hand settled at her waist, another on her wrist, and she lost her breath as Mr Hawkins’ colossal broadness loomed close.
“You will fall if your stance is not correct. You need to spread your le…” He breathed deep. “Your feet should be a little more apart. Good. Now, palm flat and roll your fingers towards it. Keep it tight and…” He eased her thumb out. “This curls low on the outside or you will break it upon contact. Perfect.”
“I wish I’d known all this previously as it gives one a certain confidence. Do you know, I received quite a scare wandering the empty streets at dawn on the first morning of my employment.”
“Who scared you?” He glared with fierceness in the yellow glow of lamplight.
“Leper ghosts.”
She sensed his confusion and witnessed his shake of head. “You shouldn’t have been out there at dawn, and I was probably awake and in the basement, so you ought to have knocked. Now, wallop me instead of ghosts.”
“What if I hurt you?” And what did he do in that basement?
“That is rather the point. And you do not need to know. Pretend I’m an attacker and give me a peeper in mourning.”
Matilda bit her lip. “A black eye?”
“You’re catching on.”
She jabbed out, but his head shifted to the side and she stumbled forward, flattening herself to her employer.
What a wonderfully strong chest.
“Thank you,” he mumbled dryly somewhere into her hair. “We’d best end the lesson there and resume when you are less…tired. Now, despite only being around the corner, we must hail a carriage or I’ll be carrying you home.”
To be truthful, Matilda wasn’t quite so befuddled as all that.
What she felt now was a merry contentment – a freedom as she sauntered the shadowed London streets with a handsome ex-prizefighter, both protected and at liberty. Better than any frowning Ton ball or constrained soiree.
She wished Mr Hawkins would indeed sweep her into his arms and carry her home. Theoretically, she could pretend to swoon in boskiness but coquettish wiles had never been her strong point.
Or indeed a weak point.
“You have made me happy, Mr Hawkins,” she revealed. “And I did mean to say that aloud. Thank you for tonight. I know you were ear bashed into it.”
With the gaslight to his back, his expression was now hidden in silhouette. “It was all my pleasure, Miss Griffin.”
