The Prizefighter’s Hart by Emily Royal

Chapter Thirty-Eight

As soon as the men left the chamber, Thea held Rowena at arm’s length. The broken expression in her husband’s eyes tore at her heart—but she first needed to ensure Rowena was unhurt.

The girl continued to cry, but aside from her distress, she didn’t seem to be physically harmed.

“Rowena, dear, can you tell me what happened?”

Rowena stiffened. “Are you angry?”

“No,” Thea said. “But there’s something I must ask—your papa and I need to know.”

Thea’s heart shuddered at the stricken look on Rowena’s face.

“W-will Papa beat me?”

“Has he ever given you cause to think he’d hit you?”

Rowena paused, then shook her head. “N-no, but he’s so angry! I said such terrible things last night.”

“We often say terrible things when there’s no other way to express how much we’re hurting,” Thea said. “Your Papa’s anger comes from fear. He was dreadfully worried about you—as was I.”

Thea squeezed Rowena’s hand. “Tell me the truth, Rowena, my darling. Did Mr. Ogilvie—touch you?”

Rowena shook her head. “He brought me here, and when I said I wanted to go home, he shouted, saying I was a selfish whore like my mother. I’m so sorry! I wanted to believe my mother loved me. Uncle Alex had said such wonderful things about her—but after we left, he changed. Why didn’t I see it before?”

Thea kissed the top of Rowena’s head. “I was taken in by Mr. Ogilvie as well.”

“I’m sorry I said what I did—I don’t really hate you.”

“It’s forgotten.”

“And Papa!” Rowena cried. “I don’t want him getting hurt thinking I hate him!”

“Then we’ll go and show him that we love him.”

Rowena nodded, and they exited the chamber together.

By the time they reached the courtyard, Griffin and Ogilvie were already circling each other, stripped to the waist, fists raised.

A handful of onlookers stood around the edge of the courtyard, including Ned and Mr. Miller. At the far end, beside the water pump, stood three others, whispering among themselves, and Thea could swear she heard the clink of coins changing hands.

Griffin glanced up and frowned.

“Good luck,” Thea mouthed. She held her hand over her heart, and he mirrored the gesture.

Ogilvie rushed toward Griffin and delivered a blow to his stomach. Griffin stumbled back but kept his balance.

“That was underhand, Ogilvie—but you’ve always fought dirty.”

“I fight smart, not dirty,” Ogilvie replied. “You always aspired to be a gentleman—thinking yourself above the rest of us…but you’re just the same. A savage.”

“Savage—ha!” Griffin laughed. “Fine words for a man who stoops to abducting young women to secure your fortune, rather than fighting fair. I did all I could to help you—I gave you money, yet you gambled it away because you never wanted to work. I wasn’t lucky, Ogilvie. I worked hard—I didn’t languish around, expecting good luck to rain upon my head.”

“What girlish nonsense!” Ogilvie scoffed. “Has that harridan you married turned the Mighty Oak into a sapling?”

Griffin moved toward Ogilvie, who backed away and tripped, landing on the ground. One of the onlookers cheered.

“Get him!”

But he lowered his fists and waited for Ogilvie to stand.

“What’s Papa doing?” Rowena asked.

Thea smiled, a rush of pride coursing through her. “He’s fighting fair,” she said. “He always has.”

“I love him,” Rowena said. “I want him to know it.”

“As do I.”

As soon as Ogilvie was on his feet again, he rushed toward Griffin, who sidestepped him and threw a punch that connected with Ogilvie’s jaw. Ogilvie swung his arm, but Griffin darted away.

He was magnificent.

And he was hers.

Ogilvie snarled, then swung at Griffin, who dodged the blow and, in a fluid motion, swung his own fist upward until it connected with Ogilvie’s jaw with a sharp crack. Ogilvie crumpled to the ground and lay still.

The onlookers cheered again, and more coins changed hands as Griffin raised his arms in salute. Then he approached Thea and Rowena and opened his arms.

“My family—my beautiful wife and daughter.”

“Papa—I’m sorry…” Rowena said, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s forgotten, my Rowe,” he said. She rushed toward him, and the two embraced.

Thea blinked, moisture stinging her eyes. But they were tears of joy as father and daughter clung to each other.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about your mother,” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss her hair. “I wanted you to be happy, believing that you were loved. And you are loved.”

He looked up and his gaze met Thea’s, and he smiled. “You both are.”

Behind him, Thea caught a blur of movement. Ogilvie was on his feet and running toward Griffin, brandishing a stick.

“No!”

Ogilvie lifted his arm, and Thea flew at him. With a rush of air, the stick came toward her, and before she could move, pain exploded in her head, and she plunged into oblivion.

*

Griffin watched inhorror as his wife fell to the ground. Ogilvie stood before her, stick in hand, eyes wide with horror.

“Mama!” Rowena cried.

“You bastard!” Griffin roared.

“The blow was meant for you,” Ogilvie said. “It’s not my fault if your wife’s foolish enough to get in the way.”

With a bellow of rage, Griffin rushed forward, dealing blow after blow. Pain exploded in his knuckles as he felt his skin tear with each punch. Ogilvie reeled back, his face bloodied, and Griffin felt a satisfying crack as his fist crashed into Ogilvie’s nose. He landed another punch, and Ogilvie fell to the ground.

A hand caught his arm. “Stop!” Ned cried.

“Let me go, Ned,” Griffin said. “I’m going to kill the bastard!”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Ned said. “Be the better man. I’ll deal with Ogilvie. You take care of your wife. She’s more important.”

Thea lay on the ground, unmoving. Rowe kneeled beside her, sobbing. “Mama!”

Ned pulled the pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at Ogilvie.

“Leave,” he said. “Now. If you return, I’ll make damned sure the whole world knows that you murdered the first Mrs. Oake and tried to murder the second.”

“I’ll tell them you’re a liar,” Ogilvie said.

“Who’ll believe you?” Ned asked. He gestured round the courtyard. “We have witnesses to your assault on Mrs. Oake, and Sam here will testify that you abducted Miss Rowena, won’t you, Sam?”

“Aye, that’s right,” the barman said. “I’ve no time for a man who hits a woman.”

Ogilvie glanced around the courtyard, looking for a friendly face. But there were none. He struggled to his feet, dusting himself down, then limped toward the building.

“Go with him, Ned,” Griffin said. “Make sure he leaves.”

“Aye.” Brandishing the pistol, Ned followed Ogilvie back into the inn.

Griffin collapsed to his knees beside his wife.

“Thea? My love?”

“She’s breathing,” Rowena said. “But she won’t wake up—please make her wake up!”

“We need a doctor!” Griffin cried. “Now!”

“Doctor Pearson’s in the next village,” the barman said.

“Then stop talking and fetch him!”

He cradled Dorothea’s body in his arms. Why wasn’t she waking up?

He may have found his daughter—but had it been at the cost of his wife?