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CHAPTERTEN
Rhys stopped himself from going after her. He might expose her by doing so, or worse, have her father discover she was there.
He braced his hands on the desk and breathed. Now she would feel his frustration, but that did not make him feel better. He cursed and closed his eyes, remaining thus for a long moment. He was calmer when he opened his eyes, and he checked his watch before cursing and striding out of the room. He had missed William’s entire fight and another.
William met him on his way back to the fight hall. “Guildford, were you with a woman again?” he jested. “Your hair is undone.”
“Yes,” Rhys replied, running a hand through his hair. He’d had many trysts during prizefights and never hid them from William. There was no reason to lie now.
“I forgive you.” William laughed and bowed. “I won.”
“I knew you would.” Rhys smiled stiffly.
William left him, and Rhys continued to the hall. His eyes searched the faces as he moved through the crowd, but Elizabeth was nowhere. He began to suspect she had left the place altogether. Again, Rhys was tempted to follow her, but he had to meet Winston and have him introduce Rhys to Sanders.
He found them shortly and was surprised to see that Sanders looked to be younger than he thought. “How old are you?” he asked after Winston had introduced him.
“Nineteen, My Lord,” Sanders supplied.
“You are much younger than I thought,” Rhys said. Sanders’ demeanor quickly changed to reveal his concern.
“But I will still assess you,” he reassured. “Did Lord Winston tell you how I assess my prizefighters?”
“Yes, My Lord,” Sanders said eagerly. “I was told that you are a very skilled pugilist.”
Rhys only smiled in response to that. He had not thought much about entering the ring today, but after his encounter with Elizabeth, he required it. It would certainly be good for his body and might benefit his mind, too, although he doubted it. When the fights were over, and the viewers had collected their gains or acquainted themselves with their losses, and departed, Rhys rose from his seat and removed his coat. Sanders stood and began to undress as well. When they were in only their breeches, they entered the ring, while Winston stood outside the ropes, looking very hopeful.
Rhys noticed Sanders wrapping his hands with a strip of white cloth. “Do not wrap your hands,” he said. “I do not allow my fighters to wrap their hands. There were incidents in the past when some fighters wrapped their hands with cloths that were lined with sand to give them an advantage.”
Sanders nodded and began to unwrap his hands. “I understand your caution, My Lord. I wrap my hands to have better control of my fists,” Sanders explained.
Rhys made a fist and held it up. “Let your thumb lock your fingers.”
Sanders nodded vigorously and smiled. They met at the center of the ring and prepared to begin. Sanders jogged, and Rhys smiled. The boy had spirit, and he would need it.
Rhys began with a mock punch to taunt him, and Sanders’ reaction was a good dodge. Rhys smiled inwardly, awarding him a point. While they sparred, he was able to release the tension in his body that Elizabeth had caused. He could not remove thoughts of her from his mind, however. No matter how much he tried to focus on assessing Sanders, she was still there in the recesses of his mind, inviting him.
He had not been determined to marry Lady Irene before, but now he was, and it was in part to show Elizabeth that she had no power over him or her sister. With a final punch that Sanders parried excellently, Rhys lowered his arms and stood back.
“What does prizefighting mean to you?” he asked Sanders.
“I have admired William the Hammer since I knew who he was,” Sanders replied. “I trained so that I could one day be better than him.”
Rhys nodded. “Expect word from me soon.” He turned to Lord Winston and smiled.
He had already decided to support Sanders, but he needed to discuss it with his advisor first. As he dressed, he thought of what Elizabeth would think of this development. Her father had said that she would be pleased. Rhys would like to see her reaction himself. He also hoped that Sanders would remain a good fellow. He did not want what happened with Faraday to repeat itself.
* * *
Guildford Manor was very quiet when Rhys returned at sundown, and he realized that he had been expecting Brutus to welcome him as the dog had done every time he saw Rhys return.
“Where could he be?” he heard his grandmother ask, and he walked in the direction of the drawing room.
“I cannot say, My Lady,” Smith replied. “I will search for him at once.”
“Please do. He is such a sweet and adorable creature, and we must look after him well,” the Dowager said.
“Is this about Brutus?” Rhys asked as he walked in.
