Once Upon A Regency

by Samantha Grace

  “I've decided to marry,” she admitted.

  Bridget smiled but it turned into a smirk. “And I've decided to fly to the moon. Deciding it don't make it so.”

  “All things are possible with the Lord.”

  “Well, a Lord, or a Right Honorable, or whoever is paying.”

  Maeve knew that her frown must look fierce because Bridget laughed.

  “Just because you're a craw thumper,” the little strawberry blond said, meaning Catholic, “don't mean you get to skip to the head of the line. Remember that.”

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Galen timed his arrival at the Enchanted Cave to be right as Maeve stepped into the ring. All the other girls had already fought and were sitting with their previous amours. Now they had to decide if a bird in the hand was worth more than two in the bush. If one or more of them moved to Galen when he'd done nothing to elicit their attention, then the men had to blame the girls. When he had explained his plan to clever Oscar, the man had toasted him as having the foulest and most devious of minds. High praise indeed. It had been a calculated risk to take Oscar into his confidence, but it had already saved him at least one beating and who knew what other trouble besides.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding to the Mad Clan as he took a spot leaning on the wall behind Finn. “Ladies.”

  He saw the girls all cut looks at him then each other, judging their own actions based on what it seemed the others were doing. It looked like Bridget had taken a nasty blow to her chin and her lip was swollen something fierce. Too bad the girl had matched herself to Conan, as the brute was unlikely to notice, much less give her any sympathy. When Galen caught her eye he tapped his own lip and made a sad face. She smiled in return, wincing when it hurt. He poked his lower lip out in exaggerated sympathy and saw her eyes crinkle in amusement.

  He finally turned his attention to the ring. Standing proved a better view of the proceedings, even at this distance. Miss O'Malley had a fine fighting form for a woman, her balance held low and steady, with her shoulders centered properly. Her strikes weren't as strong and fast as perhaps they could be, but he wasn't sure how much of that was due to the inexperience of her opponent. It looked as though the proprietor was more concerned with making Miss O'Malley's opponent flashy than competent. This girl had opted to strip to her waist to show off her large breasts. She also wore her long, dark hair down almost to her hips. She rocked unsteadily on her feet with even moderate jabs. In a street fight the girl would be down in a trice.

  Again, Finn was intently focused on Miss O'Malley's fight. When Galen had pressed Oscar for why Finn seemed so taken with the girl the man had only shrugged. Where Finn went, the Mad Clan went. If he wanted to linger at a fight club cum brothel for near on six months and moon over the star fighter, then the boys would entertain themselves with the brothel. Galen thought that answer smelled of delusion. The boys visited the brothel far more often than Finn did, as he was usually occupied with his father's business and social obligations during the week. It was clear that the earl wanted to ensure his heir was well-prepared to take over at any time. Before the Enchanted Cave the Mad Clan spent most of their time in gaming hells with sporadic visits to whatever brothel struck their fancy. Spending so much time here, multiple times per week with the same girls, was still concerning.

  Galen was drawn back from his thoughts when the crowd cried out. The brunette had planted a facer on Miss O'Malley. It had apparently been unwise, because the pride of the Enchanted Cave came back with a powerful swipe that lifted the other girl off her feet and left her sprawled on the edge of the ring.

  * * * *

  Sunday morning Maeve arrived particularly early to church. She needed the peace of gazing upon her Lord. Last night, when Brenna Cooper had surprised her with that pop to the cheek, Maeve had felt a rage come over her. Seeing Brenna sprawled out in the dirt had felt like vindication, as though it were something Brenna deserved for daring to make such a strike. Once she had a moment to consider, Maeve felt sickened by her innate reaction. She stayed up late, on her knees, praying for the Lord's forgiveness. Now she hoped to confess, although she had done her weekly confession just the day before. This incident felt too large, too heavy, to hold on to for the whole week. And she wanted to speak with the priest about any men in the congregation who had the means to take on a wife.

  After the early Mass, she saw her chance to speak with a priest and asked him for a private moment. He was older, with a kindly face and a slightly stooped posture. Just the image of a priest from home, if not having the right accent. He waved her into an alcove where they were still in plain sight of the others, but could speak just between themselves.

  “Father, I hoped to speak with you or Father Alcott today.”

  “Of course, my child. What do you need?”

  “I was hoping that you might introduce me to some men who were seeking a wife.”

  His face furrowed into an uncharacteristic frown. “Beg pardon?”

  “I've decided to marry and realized that there must be good, Catholic men of moderate means in London.”

  “My child, that's quite impossible.”

  She blinked, sincerely confused. “Why?”

  “Are you not the Maeve O'Malley who fights at the Enchanted Cave?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “No good, Catholic man, of moderate means or otherwise, would take such as you to wife.”

  Maeve felt a flush start at her neck and spread up to her ears. “Why not?”

  “No man wants spoiled goods.”

  Maeve's ears rang as though she had stood under the church bell at vespers.

  “But I'm a good girl,” she whispered.

  “If you were a good girl you wouldn't live at such a den of iniquity.”

  In a way, his kind expression made the statement that much more horrifying. Maeve murmured something that might have served to excuse herself, and walked away. Not knowing what else to do, she knelt in a pew and prayed.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Galen strolled into the Enchanted Cave on a Sunday again, this time with Oscar at his side. The consequence of taking Oscar into his confidence was that the man wanted to be involved in everything. When they entered the main room and Eva saw them together, Galen noticed her eyes narrow shrewdly for a moment before she smiled and traipsed over to Oscar. So that one was not quite conquered yet. Galen had to admit, now that he was in the mix, it felt like the old days when the Mad Clan would compete for the attention of some prize miss. Whether a dance with a particular débutante, a liaison with a lusty widow, or the favors of a famed whore, it had always been a competition about who could succeed first. Finn won most often back then, followed by Oscar with his silver tongue. But Galen would like to think that with age had come a certain advantage for him. He might be gruff, but he read people well. Understood them. Once he realized that all most people wanted was to be understood, he learned to parlay his observant, laconic style into appearing interested and insightful. Women ate it up as though he had invented gold.

  With Bridget snuggled happily in his lap, he looked to Eva. “I've noticed you always wear that brooch somewhere on your person. Does it have special meaning?”

  Her gaze softened as he thought it might. Gold struck. “It was my grandmother's. She raised me.”

  He heard her accent slip. Less Irish lilt and more the rolling sound of Cornwall. “She's lucky to have a granddaughter who remembers her fondly.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. Oscar watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He was clever enough to realize that attempting levity would only prove to his detriment, but was at a loss for what else to do. He settled for pulling her more securely to him. If Galen thought the girl a good influence on Os, he'd encourage them, but Eva seemed a bit too young and wild yet to be a good influence on anyone.

  A flurry of pale pink muslin and golden curls in the hall caught his attention. Miss O'Malley
, he assumed. He considered whether he should flirt with her today. He had yet to divine exactly what her hold on Finn might be, making it difficult to know how to proceed. Further, he found the girl entertaining, and that made him hesitant. It wouldn't do to be distracted from his goal by the pleasure of ruffling her fur just to see her hiss and scratch.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Ruby, the lovely ladybird who greeted him his first night here at the Enchanted Cave. She swished towards him with the canted hips of an accomplished flirt. She had been irritated that his interest only lay with the Irish Sisters, especially as she endeavored to take advantage of their popularity with her hennaed hair and false lilt, but now she was all smiles.

  Stopping in front of him, and after giving the girls on his lap a derisive glance, she said, “Willy wants to see you.”

  Galen met her gaze coolly. “Does he, indeed? If he were to just step to the door, he would see me fine. I've been here for over an hour.”

  Her expression soured briefly, and then she struck an even more alluring pose. “I'm sure he wants to share some of his private reserve of whiskey with you, and that's something he can't do here.”

  Whiskey was not only expensive, but illegal. However, it was highly doubtful that anything Willy Cage had on hand in his brothel compared to what Galen had in his own stores. But it was also clear that Ruby had been sent to collect him, no matter what it would take. Fine, let the little peacock puff his pride by summoning a baron. The man's opinion hardly mattered, and perhaps this brief absence would set the girls to thinking about how to entice Galen when he returned.

  * * * *

  Maeve felt a desperation down to her soul. Now that she was back in her sparse little room at the Enchanted Cave, she could feel the hollowness within herself, could see it evident all around her. There was nothing here but sin and dirt and horridness. She wanted to bathe. She wanted to pop through her tiny window and fly away, like the Lord's dove. Biting down hard on her lip to keep the tears at bay, she shoved her tiny trunk in front of the door, then pushed her creaking cot against that. She wanted no one to intrude, wanted nothing of the household. No, perhaps she wanted to gather what she could carry and flee. But go where? Could she trust the church to house her? Protect her? What would she do to send funds to her family back home? She would happily be a washer woman, sell bread in the streets, do anything that wasn't part of this foul place.

  She sat on the cot heavily. All things she tried to do before she saw the advertisement for lady boxers in a newspaper she'd found in a pew. The paper had been folded so nicely, and the advertisement had been on the edge toward her, as though it were fate for her to see it. She knew more about boxing than she wanted to, and the good Lord had given her a chance to put it to use. That very first week she earned enough to not only put food in her belly, but tithe to the church that fed her when she arrived in London, and send a few pence home to her folks besides. She'd taken on training duties for the other girls, and Willy almost immediately began to dream of turning her into another Elizabeth Stokes. It had all been so fast and such a relief. Now six months had passed and Maeve realized she was the sideshow drawing in clientele for a different sort of business altogether. Willy might have them put on fights every week, but it was to draw the men. To have them drink, and whore, and gamble.

  She felt a single tear track down her cheek. Very little was worth crying over, but perhaps this was. The desperate, hollow feeling was slowly filled with the leaden dark of sadness. She couldn't escape this place and take care of her family. There was little enough work to be found, and now her reputation was sullied for miles around. Who would expect the devil to place his traps in a church pew?

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Galen looked down his nose at Willy Cage, seated behind his desk as though he were an important man of business. Apparently the only thing worse than watching the man strut around in his arena, was encountering him personally.

  “Baron Mornay,” the little weasel said in his nasally voice.

  Galen decided not to educate him on the finer points of Debretts. ”Mr. Cage.”

  “It has come to my attention that you have made untoward offers to my girls.”

  Galen merely raised a brow.

  “Those girls are worth a great deal to me, and it worries me you think you can make one your mistress without negotiating the price with me first.”

  Galen paused long enough to give his words extra weight. “You don't own them.”

  The little peacock's chin jutted out indignantly. “Of course not. I'm a businessman. I've invested in them and they owe me. Any man who hoped to hire them on permanently would need to buy out their contracts.”

  Cage had undoubtedly thought that by remaining seated and not offering Galen a chair, it enhanced his own power. That perception was quickly put to rest when Galen set his hands on the desktop to loom over the vile creature, sending the man squirming into the creaking slats as though he might slink through them and escape. Rather than have the little worm misunderstand him, Galen bit off each word slowly and succinctly. “You will not dictate terms.”

  Although the man didn't say anything in reply, he called out once Galen's back was turned. “You'll not steal them. And I'll not let O'Malley marry.”

  The last put a pause in Galen's stride. Who was O'Malley to marry? He'd best check on Finn before the man did something too foolish to ever be redeemed.

  * * * *

  Maeve spent the evening listening to the household abuzz outside her room. It was Sunday, the most holy of days, and here at the Enchanted Cave it was hardly observed as such. Some girls went to church in the morning. All Anglican, of course. Now, late at night, it seemed like any other day of the week. How had she let the sin and debauchery of this place rise up around her for months while keeping her eyes shut from it? It was not her place to condemn any of the women here for the choices they made, that had to be left to God. But could Maeve not call folly on her own choices? Before the Cave she prayed to God for a miracle to deliver her from the privation and worry. Had she instead been seduced by the devil from the path of the righteous? Perhaps it was just the sort of desperation she felt back then that let the devil do his best work. She couldn't afford to feel desperate now, to take another devil's bargain and sink lower than she already was. That meant she had to make the best of where she was. What she was.

  When the house finally quieted she moved her cot and trunk back to where they belonged. She lay in bed awake most of the evening. If she had to accept who and what she was now, she needed to determine what that meant. She was no longer a good Catholic girl of Ireland. She was now a sullied bare-knuckle boxer of London. It felt like an ill-fitting coat, a wardrobe worn of desperation rather than comfort. But she would not ask the Lord for more. It was just such thoughts that led her to where she was now. She would only ask the good Lord for His blessing. She would ask that He guide her in fulfilling His plan and make her His instrument. She would humble herself. She'd always thought herself humble before, but now she realized it had been false humility. She had believed in her own piety, in her own luck and good graces with the Lord. She'd had, bless her soul, an inordinate amount of pride in her humility. No longer. She would be, would do, whatever God saw fit for her.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Galen knew precisely where to find Finn on a Monday morning. The earl had his eldest son hopping from one business interest to another on a schedule more predictable than the workings of a watch. As Finn was as diligent as his father was driven, his location was a certainty. The day was given to shipping concerns. Galen strolled into the offices of North and Hart and asked after Lord Cole. It was clear that his class was above the businessmen and workmen scurrying about, and they hurried to do his bidding.

  Finn appeared forthwith, his appearance a bit less tidy than Galen expected, but boisterous in his greeting. “Lord Mornay! To what do I owe this pleasure?
”

  Looking his friend over, Galen replied. “The good Lord saw fit to grant you a diversion. If you run your hands through your hair another time you may end up bald as a coot.”

  The tendency to do just such a thing under stress had been well remarked among the Mad Clan in school, and Galen saw Finn's hand twitch as though he wanted to do it again upon the mention of it. “Perhaps I can afford a break to entertain you.” The rogue winked. “Seeing as you're an old friend who may be in need of shipping.”

  “You think I need shipping?”

  Finn motioned him into an office. “Yes, when Conan and Bran decide that your poaching is no longer entertaining, you'll need to send yourself elsewhere with alacrity.”

  “Not Oscar?”

  Finn shrugged. “When has Oscar minded sharing a woman?”

  Galen thought the answer might be Eva, but didn't mention it. “And you?”

  He poured them both brandy and shrugged as he sat down. “First, I doubt you have any chance with Miss O'Malley, and second, I doubt I do either.”

  Galen narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Since when has a challenge stopped you?”

  Finn smiled. “It's not a challenge. Or at least I thought it was for a while, but then...” His friend trailed off and gazed out the window for a moment, distracted. He finally brought his attention back. “She's not like other women that I've met.”

  Although Galen's typically passive mien didn't show it, the statement sent a flare of panic through him. Men tended to marry women who weren't like all the other girls. What on earth would the earl do if Finn brought home a Papist Irish wife? The man might disinherit his own son. And Galen knew Finn well enough to know that when he decided something then nothing and no one would dissuade him. Challenge and opposition made Finn thrive. Rather than be a panicked ninny, Galen merely sunk lower in his chair and shrugged. “All women are alike from what I can tell,” he drawled.