Page 63 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
A tall, gaunt man who went by the name of Basil took the coin, and Max made sure the man remembered him to give him his return. Once that was confirmed, Max surveyed the crowd and spotted Ruby bouncing on her toes, trying to keep warm. Bruising Peg was in another area, well over a foot taller. He hoped Ruby knew what she was doing.
Returning to the Fancy’s corner, Max crossed his fingers for her—and for himself. If Stone lost half his purse on this, Max would be out on his arse.
“That’s her,” Lord Andrepont said behind him, no doubt to Stone.
Roger peeked at Max, and Max gave him a confident grin. More confident than he felt. Ruby Jackson made her way up to the raised platform. Bruising Peg did the same on the other side.
“You absolutely certain?” another man asked, his voice low, his accent scratched from the docks. It had to be Daniel Miller.
“She is,” Corinthian John said. His accent was easy to spot—even though he sounded all plummy like the rest of the bluebloods, there was something about the way he pitched his words that conveyed imitation, not breeding.
“Let’s see how she do against that Amazon,” Miller said.
“She’s quick,” Lady Andrepont said.
Max eyed a street urchin who drifted, too casually, alongside the wealthy. He curled his lip in warning, and the boy skittered away. Basil took to the center of the ring and began spewing his pre-fight nonsense. Hardly anyone in the room took notice, as the next fight was the women’s mill. In the next hour, the room would crowd even further, ready for the main set-to.
“I don’t see it, mate,” Miller said behind Max. “I mean, who’d she say her mother was?”
“She doesn’t know,” Lady Andrepont said, and Max could hear sympathy in her voice.
“Some chit says I’m her da ’cos she fights? I’m sorry, mate, but that’s right daft. I’m not saying she ain’t mine, but I can’t in my right mind claim her, neither.”
“Just watch her,” Corinthian John murmured.
The fight commenced without the crowd noticing, and Bruising Peg’s long wingspan cuffed Ruby on the ear as she danced away. But Ruby recovered well, shaking off the initial connection.
“Listen,” Miller growled.
At this point, even Max was getting upset with the man. Would it kill him to actually watch a women’s mill? Ruby danced inside Bruising Peg’s reach and delivered a couple of hard blows, causing the larger fighter to fall back, while Ruby danced out of reach again.
Max stifled the urge to turn around and crow about Ruby’s prowess.
The fight continued for only a few more minutes, Ruby darting in, delivering blows, while Bruising Peg lumbered about the ring. Then, without warning, Bruising Peg’s foot fell through the floorboards.
Bruising Peg’s kneeman jumped in front of his fighter to protect her from opportunistic hits. But Ruby didn’t attempt any. Basil clambered back in the ring, and Ruby’s kneeman came forward as well.
Each of the kneemen were former or current fighters as well—Max could see it in the off-angled noses and the telltale shorn hair. Each had seen his fair share of fights, but where Ruby’s kneeman kept the corner tidy, able to keep one knee up and one knee down for Ruby to rest on for those brief thirty seconds between rounds, Bruising Peg’s kneeman had to go onto all fours to provide a bench for the tall lady fighter to sit on. Still, both men were up and able in the wake of Bruising Peg’s accident, asking questions of each other and their fighters, trying to iron out what happened and next steps.
Bruising Peg cursed and swore. She extracted her leg, and it had a long bloody gash in it. The surgeon was pushed up from the crowd and into the ring, plastering over the cut, but all agreed that the bout couldn’t continue.
“She’s probably a good fighter, but what do you want out of me?” Miller asked.
“To greet the girl. To see, up close, if she looks like she might be yours. Just give the kid a chance. You remember how it was, don’t you?” Corinthian John said.
“I dunno, mate. Maybe next set-to. Night’s over, what with the ring in need of repairs, and I don’t want to be stuck in this crowd forever.” The man shouldered past Max, heading to the doors now that the events had stalled. Max confirmed he was Daniel Miller, the fighter he’d seen at the Mistletoe Assembly as he’d spilled butter and vegetables all over Ruby.
Max’s heart went out to Ruby. What was worse, not knowing your father, or knowing he was a right shit?
Stone touched Max on the shoulder. “Get them to refund the purse. Meet Roger and me at the tavern two doors down.”
Max made his way to the ring. The crowd would give him an excuse to talk to Ruby Jackson. His mouth went dry as he elbowed past the merchants, sailors, and tradesmen. What would he say to her?
He found Basil and talked the man into a refund for himself and Stone, promising to renew their bets when the rematch occurred.
Task accomplished, Max continued over to Ruby’s corner. He offered a brief smile to the pale little girl who stood there with a sour look on her face. “Excuse me.”
A tall woman, whom Max knew from other fights was Bess Abbott, stepped protectively in front of the little girl. “Wot?” Even without her tone, her sheer physicality was a clear threat. Nearly as tall as Max, her face told of the cost of a lifetime of fights, with a broken nose and misshapen ears.
