Page 41 of Lady Controversial
‘I’m listening,’ Isolda replied, astonished when he didn’t attempt to touch her, appearing distracted instead.
‘Look, you’re making a name for yourself—and for me, I won’t deny it. There are as many wagers on your likely identity as there are on the bouts you compete in.’
Isolda nodded, well aware of the fact that if she was beaten the victor would earn the right to remove her mask. What that would do to Jane’s prospects didn’t bear thinking about, but since the alternative was to starve, what choice did she have? Everyone thought she was a youth—a young man with exceptional skill with a sword, whose identity had become the subject of lively debate in all the local taverns. To the best of her knowledge, no one had even considered the possibility of her true gender. The padding had thus far enabled her to get away with it, but for how much longer? Her luck could not last indefinitely.
But still, she reasoned, once the season was under way Jane would be admired and would quickly receive eligible offers. From that point on, Isolda would be absolved of all further responsibility for her sister. She would be able to hang up her trusty sword and with only herself to support she could revert to a more genteel way of keeping the wolf from her door.
She was surprised by the pang of regret that the realisation engendered. She loved fencing and had been practising for almost as long as she could walk. Papa had been amused by her obsession with the sport and had encouraged her to excel at it. Despite the risks and the need to fend off Mr Barker’s hands, she would miss the excitement, and having her skill admired by groups of men who had absolutely no idea that she was a feeble woman gave her a feeling of self-worth. At least she was good at something.
‘What is your point?’
‘My point is that we have become the victims of our own success. I’ve been approached by a cove who’s intent upon taking our little gatherings to the next level.’
Isolda shook her head to dispel the feelings of alarm that prospect engendered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘He’s setting up a sporting club, a very exclusive one, and wants you to be its star attraction, love.’
‘I hope you have not revealed my identity to this person,’ Isolda said, a note of anxiety creeping into her tone. ‘We agreed, most specifically, that you would never do so. Indeed, it is in your best interests not to. As long as speculation continues…’
‘Rest easy, love. I ain’t told him anything. Yet. But we can’t afford to ignore his offer, so he will have to know sooner or later, but he’s got more sense than to tell anyone.’
‘Most men are incapable of keeping secrets,’ she replied sharply. ‘He will over-imbibe and start boasting.’
‘Not likely. He’s a canny individual who will know what he has in you, much the same as me.’ He reached out a hand and patted her knee but she swatted that hand away. ‘I ain’t told a living soul. I know which side my bread is buttered on and no mistake.’
‘Hmm.’ Isolda knew it was true but wasn’t willing to make that concession.
‘Anyway, he’s taking over this area. I can’t afford to fight against him, he’s got too much influence.’
‘You’re afraid of him?’
Barker sniffed, clearly not about to be riled into fighting his corner. He left that sort of thing to her and the desperation of others whom he exploited in order to line his own pockets. ‘I can’t compete with a man of his stature,’ he said reluctantly. ‘He’d squash me like an irritating bug.’
‘Who is this man of power?’
‘Don’t you mind your pretty little head about things what don’t concern you.’
Isolda thought it did concern her. She was Barker’s star attraction. Without her, it was questionable whether this powerful newcomer would be interested in his circus, but it seemed futile to point out what they both knew very well.
‘Anonymity works both ways, love. You’ll know who he is when the time’s right.’
‘If it ever is.’
‘Seems to me you don’t have much choice.’
Barker wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat, and Isolda shuddered with revulsion, feeling fresh animosity towards her father for reducing her to mixing with men of Mr Barker’s ilk. Her thoughts briefly switched to Lord Finchdean—Barker’s polar opposite—and her spirits dipped even lower.
‘What about the working men who enjoy our bouts? They will not be able to afford membership of a more exclusive club.’
‘Don’t you worry nothing about that either, princess. Put your own concerns first, just like everyone else does.’ Mr Barker sniffed yet again and then sneezed. Isolda hoped he did not have a cold that he would pass on to her. ‘Just do your best tonight. It’ll be a tough bout, your toughest yet, but I have every faith in your ability to win an excellent payday for the both of us.’
Isolda, who had never felt less prepared, made do with an abrupt nod and the rest of the journey passed in silence, but for Barker’s constant sniffing.
She gasped when the carriage came to a halt at the back of the clearing and the noise as she donned her mask almost deafened her. A very large gathering of men had already formed, many of whom were in their cups, she suspected, given the raucous nature of their language. One urinated against a tree directly in her line of sight and she hastily averted her gaze.
Barker took her arm and led her to the area where the combatants were preparing themselves. She was the main attraction and would fight last. She gasped when she saw the size of her opponent, who made a point of flexing his muscles in front of her. He was almost twice as big as her. Ordinarily, Isolda would depend upon her fleetness of foot, her speed and quick thinking to outmanoeuvre any opponent, but this time she doubted her own ability. Her head still felt woozy following her accident, her joints were stiff and her reactions dulled.
Today she feared it might all come to an ignominious end.
