Minuet by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Georgian Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1980-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

There was a certain constraint between the party of rescuers over breakfast. Had it not been for the approaching boxing match, it might easily have degenerated into an argument. Henry, with his sharp eyes and keen perception, recognized some new attitude between the other two. They were regarding each other too closely. Degan he had long known was infatuated with Sally. The Englishman did not actually like her but he desired her, and being English, was perhaps trying to convince himself there was some love there as well.

Abroad, it was not unknown for an Englishman to thaw, or even to flame. If it was an affair Degan had in mind, however, he would soon find himself disillusioned. He would be turned loose in France to suffer the inevitable fate. It was Sally who bothered him even more. She was not flirting with Degan as she customarily did. She was behaving with a certain missish propriety that was even more irritating than her other way.

Henri was too busy to give the matter much thought. They had to get out to the green and prepare for the match. He procured a towel, a bottle of cognac and a stool for the bruiser to rest on between rounds. As to an outfit, it amounted to no more than removing the shirt. They arrived at the green at nine-thirty, to find a small crowd already assembled, with Madeline taking charge of the price of admission, and undoubtedly pocketing every second fee.

“Go and stand with the trollop,” Henri directed Sally. “It will look suspicious if we show no interest in the money.”

Sally showed such a keen interest in it, even counting up the heads already present and accusing Madeline of keeping more than her share, that there was some danger that a battle between the two pretty girls would compete with the main attraction. Once the bruisers stood up, the mob directed their attention to them. It was an uneven match; that was clear at a glance. Taureau stood six inches taller than Malraux. He had the longer reach, and also a better science. But Malraux was game as a pebble, and out of a sense of humanity, Degan held back. At the first break, he said to Henri, “I think I’ll finish him off right now, and put him out of his misery.”

“Better delay it, citoyen. The mob have paid ten assignats each, and expect more than ten minutes of entertainment.”

Malraux, being smaller, was the favorite, and every punch landed by him was loudly cheered, while Degan discovered that every time he closed in to finish him off, he was roundly booed. Henry kept cautioning him to hold back, but it seemed unnecessary cruelty to go on pounding the poor devil. For three quarters of an hour the uneven match went on, with Malraux soon winded and staggering. Degan had orders to keep it up for an hour, but at ten-forty-five he drove a hard blow to the stomach that left Malraux gasping on the ground, unable to get up.

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