A Substitute Wife for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

by Alice Coldbreath

  Betsy chimed in again at this point, extolling the futility of Frederick being cut off without a shilling from his aunt’s will. ‘Especially,’ she had added, ‘when their own finances were still so up in the air.’ Benedict had rolled his eyes, but Lizzie had quickly asked how the legal case against Reverend Milson was proceeding and thus averted any disaster.

  Her aunt had lamented for the remaining hour about their woes, and it transpired there was still a good deal of doubt if they would ever be able to fully recoup their losses. Indeed, they might well have to sell their house and downsize to somewhere far smaller. Lizzie had felt guilty for feeling relieved at the close of their visit. As she had waved them off at the front doorstep, her aunt had mentioned something about inviting them for a return visit in a couple of months’ time.

  ‘See if you cannot delay that visit until the end of February,’ Benedict had recommended, as they closed their front door after them. ‘If you can’t spin it out until March.’

  Looking about her now at the intricate interior of their new wagon, Lizzie sighed.

  “It’s a lovely present, Benedict,” Lizzie sighed. “Thank you so much.”

  “It’s not really your present,” he murmured as he kissed her again. “It’s just our travelling home away from home. There’s more personal gifts upstairs I’ll give you this evening.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” she scolded him. “The thing I’ve got you is homemade and not anything fancy.”

  “You’ve already given me everything I always wanted,” he reminded her as he lifted her down from the caravan.

  Lizzie smiled to herself. Not yet, she thought, but soon. “You will win your championship next year, so there’s still plenty for you to look forward to,” she reminded him. The title match was scheduled for March. She would be showing by then, she thought ruefully, and there would be no chance of Benedict allowing her to watch him win. The baby would be coming along in June, so it would be a busy twelve months for their family.

  “I look forward to every day with you,” he said, kissing the back of her hand.

  “I received a Christmas card from the twins this morning, dearest,” Lizzie informed him as they walked back up the garden path. She had to practice throwing out casual endearments to him, for they did not come easily, though she was getting better at it.

  Her latest stratagem was to write him small love notes which she concealed about his person, in his waistcoat pocket, or tucked in the brim of his hat for him to find at times when he was away from her. They had started out rather stilted and uninspired, but recently she was growing a good deal bolder.

  The trouble was striking a balance, so he would be gratified but not so inflamed he turned on his heel and came straight home to her, leaving poor Mr. Edwards, his man of business, bewildered and a bunch of documents unsigned. Some days she did not get the balance entirely right which led to her being interrupted in some household duty and carried upstairs to the bedroom at very strange hours of the day.

  “They are wintering at Brighton and sent me a whole list of the entertainments they have planned for the season.” She smiled fondly thinking of Ema and Zaya and the scores of admirers they would no doubt be making at the seaside resort. Their scrawled postscript had been a written appeal for news of ‘darling Sebastian’.

  “Didn’t you say Connie’s at Brighton?” Benedict asked absently.

  “No, Connie’s at Eastbourne,” she corrected him. “Niamh and Colin are in lodgings at Epsom, so I hope we will see them soon. I was thinking of inviting them for Boxing day or maybe the day after that.” He nodded, opening the kitchen door for her to precede him inside.

  “Benedict,” she said impulsively, turning to him. “Would you like your Christmas present now?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “It’s in the front parlor,” she said feeling unaccountably nervous.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her, as though picking up on her abrupt change of mood. “Lead the way.”

  When they entered the parlor, she crossed the room and opened the drawer in the oak sideboard. Retrieving her package, done up in paper and ribbons, she turned back and held it out to him. “I’ve been making it myself,” she blurted. “In the last month, whenever you were out.”

  He took the package from her and turned it over a moment before untying the ribbon. “It doesn’t feel like slippers,” he commented, and Lizzie laughed, remembering her promise to make him some.

  “It isn’t,” she admitted. “I’m going to make those for your birthday.”

  “You made this?” he asked, casting the paper aside and shaking out the delicate white shawl. “It’s very fine work,” he began admiringly and then froze, his gaze snapping to hers. “Is this what I think it is?” he demanded. “Lizzie?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “A baby’s shawl.”

  “When?” he demanded.

  “June time.”

  “Lizzie,” he said in a choked voice, placing the shawl down carefully over the back of a chair and drawing her into his arms. “Come here. You amazing woman,” he sounded awestruck. “June. So soon?”

  “Yes.” They stood locked in each other’s embrace before the fire for a good long moment.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said huskily.

  “You’ll be a world champion and a father in a few months,” Lizzie said with satisfaction.

  He made a choked sound and then drew back, his expression turning swiftly from tender to stern. “You’d better enjoy our night in the new wagon tonight, Mrs. Toomes,” he told her, drawing back. “Because that’s as close as we’re going to get to touring the countryside for the next year at least.”

  “Benedict … ”

  “No, Lizzie, I mean it,” he said. “I shall see Edwards first thing in the morning.”

  Lizzie regarded him with exasperated amusement. “I doubt Mr. Edwards will be in the office on Christmas day, Benedict.”

  “First thing on the 27th December.”

  She debated arguing with him a moment, before laying her hands on either side of his face. “Yes, dearest,” she soothed him.

  “And what did you mean by saying you’d only got me a small gift?” he demanded. “It’s the biggest gift you could ever give anyone. That set of pearls I got you is nothing compared to it.”

  “Yes, but it is more a joint gift for the both of us, really,” she pointed out. Then she realized what he’d said. “Pearls? Did you really get me pearls, Benedict?”

  “When will we tell people?” he demanded, ignoring her reaction to his gift of jewelry. His hand moved from the small of her back to rest against her still flat stomach.

  “I think … in another month’s time,” she suggested. “So, we have a few weeks of just the two of us knowing.”

  He nodded, his eyes full of emotion. “Yes,” he said resting his brow against hers. “That sounds perfect.”

  Lizzie smiled up at him. “Are you happy, my love?”

  He caught her up in his arms. “I couldn’t be happier, Lizzie mine.”

  THE END

  I do hope you enjoyed this story. If so, perhaps you would be kind enough to leave me a rating on Amazon, Goodreads or Bookbub, or to sign up for my newsletter via my website: www.alicecoldbreath.com

  If you liked this story, you might enjoy some of the following:

  Victorian Prizefighter series:

  A Bride for the Prizefighter by Alice Coldbreath

  Mina’s well-ordered life is thrown into disarray when her father drops a bombshell on his deathbed, she has a brother she never knew of. Not only that, but he is on his way to rescue her from the collapse of their school under a mountain of debts.

  A wild journey across country later, Mina finds herself thrown at the feet of the brutish William Nye, prize-fighter and owner of a disreputable inn, The Merry Harlot. Respectable Mina is appalled to find herself obliged to wed this surly stranger! Forced to draw on reserves of inner strength she never knew she possessed, Mina unc
overs perilous secrets and bravely carves herself a new life at the side of this man, as she proves herself a more than worthy partner for the prize-fighter.

  The Brides of Karadok series:

  The Unlovely Bride by Alice Coldbreath

  Lenora Montmayne leads a charmed life as the most beautiful woman at King Wymer’s court, surrounded by admirers. And then disaster strikes. The red pox sweeps the summer palace at Caer-Lyones and Lenora’s fair face falls victim to its ravages. Without her looks, what does Lenora have left to her?

  If ever there was a knight the crowd loves to hate, it’s Garman Orde. Even his own family despises him. Then one night a heavily veiled lady offers him an extraordinary bargain. And he finds out that Lenora Montmayne was never just a pretty face.

  Also coming out in 2021:

  Her Bridegroom, Bought and Paid for by Alice Coldbreath

  Aimee Ankatel, younger daughter to the richest merchant in all Karadok, only has eyes for the heavily scarred Lord Kentigern. Her heart beats louder when she watches him compete in the field.

  When her father lends funds to the Crown and promises her a glittering match with a nobleman, she daydreams of making the ill-fated knight fall in love with her. After all, if Aimee’s Father buys back Kentigern’s lands and castle for a dowry, surely that would make her an acceptable bride to him?

  Any idealistic dreams of youth Kentigern once had were lost long ago in battle, when he was disfigured and blinded in one eye. His destiny was a cruel one, his homelands confiscated for his part in the Northern uprising, he ekes out a lonely nomadic existence, travelling from one tournament to another.

  Never would he have dreamed that all he had once lost could be put in his hand again by some upstart merchant wanting a stud and a title for his pretty daughter. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined a reversal of fortune that included a wife like Aimee.