Page 11 of Coming for the Champion
“Gloria has invited us to dine.” It was unsaid that neither of them could avoid their host, who’d so graciously given them this room.
Rory nodded. He was a Laird, a Champion boxer, strong. He could make it through one dinner with Malcolm’s friends. He sucked in a deep breath, taking the cool winter air deep into his lungs and centred himself in his body, just like the old days.
“Then we will dine.” Belatedly, Rory remembered that he was here for a reason. He needed what Lord Bennington was offering, and he needed to stop this fight for Malcolm and for himself. He couldn’t let himself get to a place where he had thisreaction in public with people’s expectations weighing on him. He needed to get a grip on all these unseemly emotions and focus on the reason he was here; to create a future for his land and the people who relied on him.
“Thank you.”
He should be the one thanking Malcolm. The hot prickles of shame threatened to rise again. No, he had his pride. Besides, it was hardly as troubling as being rejected by all the Lords in London who thought they were above helping a Scottish Laird with too much coal and not the means to extract it. He shook his head, at the lie he’d just told himself. Dinner with Malcolm’s friends was going to be much more difficult than talking to Lords who sneered at him. These were people who understood his craft, his sport, his glory. They knew what it meant for him to stand outside that building unable to breathe. They knew why he couldn’t go in.
“What is the problem?”
He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he was frightened. Scared of what all of this might mean. “There is no problem.” He found his jacket and shook it out before putting it on.
Soon enough, they were all seated around a table laden with food. Rory ate quietly, enjoying the fare which was tastier than anything he’d had since his arrival in London. Conversation flowed around him and he let it as he came to terms with his actions. Being here reminded him of the worst day of his life—it’d sent all his reasons for being here flashing through his eyes, from the fight to the trial and then running away to the Continent, only to coming home because his father died. Apoplexy, the doctor had said.
“Rory.” Malcolm’s stern tone broke through, and he blinked.
“Yes?”
“Tommy asked you a question.”
Rory breathed out slowly. “My apologies. Would you mind repeating it?”
“I said it sounds like you’ve got yourself into an impossible situation and you’ve dragged my friend into it. What are you going to do?”
Rory had never felt so inadequate in his life. He didn’t know. He had come to London to ... He swallowed. "I came to London to solve one problem and a chance meeting with Lord Bennington promised to solve that problem, if I fought The Colossus.”
“You can’t.”
“I know. It would not be safe for Malcolm.” It was the easiest of excuses, a lie really, since he couldn’t even smell a boxing ring without collapsing.
Malcolm growled, and it was wrong of Rory to enjoy the way the noise rolled over his skin. “I can decide what is safe for myself.”
Tommy’s frown deepened. “The Duke would never allow it.”
Rory stared. What Duke? He expected Malcolm to argue against such a notion, but instead he sagged.
“You are correct. Another fight would defy his wishes, but what am I to do? Lord Bennington expects this.”
“Doesn’t a Duke over-ride a Lord? Just get this Duke of yours to tell Bennington no.” Rory wasn’t sure why he said that. Telling Bennington no didn’t help him in any way.
“Galforth is dead.” Malcolm whispered and Tommy jumped in almost of the top of him.
“He can’t protect you anymore, Malcolm. It’s time to stop bowing to these Lords and stop always putting their wishes ahead of your own needs.”
“And you wonder why I haven’t visited,” Malcolm mumbled.
“Oh you know that’s not fair. I just want the best for you, and maybe this time, the best isn’t doing what the Lords tell you.What has that even gotten you? A dull job that you don’t care about?”
Rory wanted to hide under the table. This wasn’t a conversation that he should be listening to.
“Boys.” Gloria’s quiet admonishment did nothing to ease the tension.
“That’s not fair. I care deeply about my job.”
“Watches? You never cared for them when we were young.”
Malcolm shook his head slowly and Rory pretended to cut the crust on his pie so he wouldn’t appear too curious about Malcolms’s life.
