Episode One
Gerard Stover landed a solid right to his opponent's jaw, sending the fellow staggering backward before he crumpled to the mat. Cheers erupted from the club members gathered around the ring, but Gerard barely acknowledged them. Another victory, and hardly worth the sweat he'd worked up.
Patrick Sullivan, Gerard's right-hand man, held out his robe and gave him an approving clap on the back. "That was dandy."
Gerard slipped his arms into the robe, suppressing a wince as a familiar ache tugged at his shoulder. "Confound it," he muttered under his breath.
"Shoulder bothering you again?" Sullivan asked, lowering his voice.
"Like blazes." Gerard rolled his shoulder experimentally, then thought better of it when another twinge shot through the muscle. "Keep it under your hat, will you? The last thing I need is those fellows knowing a pushover like that cost me anything. Word gets out, and every milksop in town will come bursting through those doors, thinking he can take a crack at me."
Sullivan glanced at the club members still celebrating around the ring. "Your secret's safe with me, boss."
Gerard glanced over his shoulder at the fellow still sprawled on the mat. The poor sap had come into the ring full of swagger, convinced he stood a fighting chance. Well, he'd learned otherwise. Gerard almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"He's going to be nursing his jaw for a few weeks," Sullivan remarked, casting a glance at the fallen boxer. "You sure gave him the works."
Gerard accepted the smouldering cigar Sullivan offered him and drew in a satisfying puff. The familiar taste of tobacco was a welcome reward after a disappointing bout. With Sullivan following close behind, he ducked between the ropes and headed down the hall toward his private office, leaving the cheers and excited chatter behind him.
Gerard settled into the leather chair behind his massive mahogany desk and tipped his head from side to side, hoping to ease the stiffness creeping up the back of his neck. A sharp twinge shot across his shoulders, drawing a hiss through his clenched teeth. Confound these blasted muscles. He could still put a man flat on his back without breaking a sweat, but afterward, his own body seemed determined to make him pay for it.
Sullivan stepped behind Gerard's chair and worked his thumbs into the tight knots between his shoulders. Gerard let out a low grunt of appreciation as some of the tension eased beneath the man's practiced fingers.
"You ought to spend a spell in the steam room, boss," Sullivan suggested, giving his shoulders one final squeeze. "Might do you a world of good."
"I'll get around to it," Gerard said, reaching for the stack of papers waiting on his desk. "Soon as I get through this paperwork. I've got a meeting with my stockbroker tomorrow, and I want to know where we stand with our General Motors shares."
He glanced over the latest figures, his brow furrowing. The family fortune hadn't been built on careless decisions, and he had no intention of being the fool who squandered it. His father had left him considerably more than a boxing club and a handsome house. There were investments, properties, and enough money to keep the family comfortable for generations—provided Gerard kept his wits about him. And he intended to do just that.
Sullivan glanced at the stack of papers on Gerard's desk and shook his head with an amused chuckle. "Between running this club and looking after all those stocks, it's a wonder you find time to climb into the ring at all."
"Somebody has to keep an eye on things," Gerard replied, straightening a few papers. "Father worked too hard building this fortune for me to let it slip through my fingers."
"And I reckon he'd be mighty proud of what you've done with it."
Gerard paused, his fingers resting on the papers. He liked to think so. His father had been a hard man to impress, both in business and in the ring. Even now, there were times when Gerard caught himself wondering whether he'd measured up to the old man's expectations.
Gerard pushed the papers aside and leaned back in his chair. Enough reminiscing about his father. There was work to be done, and not all of it involved balancing accounts.
"Speaking of keeping things running, we could use some new blood around here. See what you can do about finding a few promising fellows, will you? I'm tired of watching the same faces climb into the ring week after week."
Sullivan gave him a jaunty salute, a familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll see what I can rustle up, boss. Though I reckon finding another fellow willing to climb into the ring with you might take some doing."
"That's what I pay you for," Gerard returned with a chuckle.
Sullivan laughed and headed for the door, closing it behind him.
Gerard watched him go with a faint smile. Good old Sullivan. The man was worth his weight in gold, and not merely because he could find a decent fighter or keep the club running smoothly. There weren't many fellows Gerard trusted without reservation, but Sullivan had earned that privilege years ago.
*********
Lily Rose sat in the back seat of the family's motorcar, her gloved fingers drumming impatiently against the red-and-white striped hatbox on her lap. Through the window, she watched the entrance to Gerard's boxing club. Honestly, the lengths a girl had to go to just to make her own brother listen to reason!
Gerard had always been stubborn, but lately he'd become downright impossible. He seemed to think being her older brother gave him the right to run her life. Well, she'd had enough of his interference, and this time she intended to tell him so. If only her stomach would stop fluttering at the thought of confronting him.
"There goes Sullivan," Aunt Primrose announced as Gerard's right-hand man emerged from the club. "Now's your chance, Lily Rose. Get your fighting spirit up and march in there."
Lily Rose swallowed. It was all very well for Aunt Primrose to talk about fighting spirit when she wasn't the one about to face Gerard.
"Your brother's had far too much say in your life," her aunt declared, raising a clenched fist toward the motorcar's ceiling. "It's high time somebody stood up to that overbearing tyrant, and that somebody might as well be you!"
"Easy for you to say," Lily Rose muttered.
"Nonsense! Keep your chin up, my girl. Don't let him back you into a corner. Stand your ground, watch for his punches, and whatever you do, don't throw in the towel!"
Lily Rose stared at her aunt. Good heavens! With that fierce expression and clenched fist, Aunt Primrose could have stepped straight into Gerard's boxing club and taken charge of a fighter's corner. All she lacked was a towel draped over one shoulder and a bucket at her feet.
Lily Rose climbed out of the motorcar, clutching her red-and-white striped hatbox. Aunt Primrose's spirited instructions still rang in her ears as she marched toward the club's entrance.
Inside, the familiar sounds of the boxing club greeted her—the thud of gloves against punching bags, the slap of shoes on the floor, and the occasional shout of encouragement.
"Good afternoon, Miss Lily Rose," one of the fighters called, stepping aside to let her pass.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Collins. How is that hand of yours?"
"Coming along nicely, thank you, miss." He lifted it briefly to show her.
Another gentleman tipped his head as she approached. "Afternoon, Miss Lily Rose. Fine day, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is, Mr. Harris. I hope you're keeping well."
"Very well, thank you, miss." His gaze settled on the striped hatbox. "Been shopping, have you?"
"Hmm." Lily Rose offered him a pleasant smile but no further explanation.
"If you're looking for your brother, he's in his office."
"Thank you, Mr. Harris. I thought he might be." She continued down the corridor, returning a few more greetings along the way. The gentlemen here had always treated her with courtesy, and she had never seen any reason not to return it. Whatever Gerard might think of her visits, she had never found his club an unpleasant place.
It was only the prospect of facing its owner that made her hesitate outside the office door.
Lily Rose stopped outside Gerard's office and tightened her grip on the hatbox handle. Keep your chin up. Don't let him back you into a corner.
Aunt Primrose made it sound so simple.
She drew a breath, straightened her shoulders, and opened the door without knocking.
Gerard sat behind his enormous mahogany desk, a cigar between his fingers. His gaze lifted from the papers before him, then dropped to the red-and-white striped hatbox. The cigar tipped in his hand, scattering ashes across his trousers.
Oh, that was satisfying.
"Confound it, Lily Rose!" Gerard brushed furiously at his trousers before glaring at her. "How many times have I told you not to bring that blasted thing into my club?"
She gave him her sweetest smile.
"What do you want this time?" he demanded. "And what was so important that it couldn't wait until dinner this evening?"
"I want you to put a stop to that ridiculous challenge of yours," Lily Rose declared.
Gerard took his time brushing the last of the ashes from his trousers. "Which challenge would that be?"
Oh, he knew perfectly well which one. Lily Rose tightened her grip on the hatbox handle. "The one that's frightened off every respectable young man who's shown the slightest interest in courting me!"
"I've told you before, Lily Rose. It's for your own good." Gerard settled back in his chair, though his gaze strayed to the hatbox in her hand. "Any man who hopes to marry into this family ought to have the backbone to face me in the ring."
"Facing you isn't the problem!" Lily Rose shot back. "It's what you do to them once they're in there!"
Gerard gave a dismissive shrug. "I won't have weak blood entering this family. We want good stock."
Lily Rose stared at him. "Good stock? Gerard, I'm not a prize heifer!"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Then stop talking as though you're choosing a breeding bull instead of a husband for me!"
"That's enough, Lily Rose," Gerard warned.
"No, it isn't!" She lifted her chin. "If I thought it would put an end to this nonsense, I'd climb into that ring and fight you myself!"
Gerard narrowed his eyes. "You didn’t watch that last fight,, did you? After I expressly forbade it?"
"Of course not! I was with Aunt Primrose." Lily Rose frowned. "And don't change the subject, Gerard. We're talking about my future, not your boxing matches!"
"Aunt Primrose!" Gerard repeated, looking thoroughly displeased. "I'm beginning to think she's a worse influence on you than those milksops who follow you around like slobbering puppies."
Lily Rose nearly laughed. If only he knew about the speech her aunt had delivered in the motorcar!
"She's my chaperone, Gerard, not my keeper."
"Then perhaps it's time I found you someone who could teach you a little refinement."
Lily Rose's amusement vanished. "Refinement? Whatever is wrong with the refinement I already possess?"
"For one thing, a young lady ought to know how to conduct herself properly," Gerard said.
Lily Rose planted a hand on her hip. "I know perfectly well how to conduct myself. Mother saw to that. I can manage a household, receive guests, and carry on a conversation without embarrassing anyone."
"Except me, apparently."
"Only when you deserve it."
Gerard opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Lily Rose took considerable satisfaction in that. It wasn't often she managed to leave her brother without a ready answer.
Gerard drew himself up in his chair. "Don't get above yourself, young lady! I happen to be responsible for your welfare, and I'll not have you gallivanting about town, encouraging every smooth-talking dandy who fancies himself a suitable husband. Father entrusted this family to me, and I intend to see that his wishes are respected!"
Lily Rose folded her arms. "Father also trusted me to have a mind of my own."
"Well, you've certainly made the most of that privilege!" Gerard snatched up his cigar, then paused to glance suspiciously at the hatbox. "But don't imagine for one moment that I'm changing my mind about those fellows. Not one inch! Not until they've met me in the ring and walked away under their own steam."
"Walk away?" Lily Rose repeated. "Gerard, the last gentleman who accepted your challenge had to be carried home!"
"He was on his feet by the following Tuesday."
"That was nearly a week later!"
"Then he ought to have trained harder." Gerard flicked ash into the tray on his desk. "I won't apologize for expecting a little fortitude in a prospective brother-in-law."
Lily Rose could scarcely believe him. Her brother had an answer for everything, no matter how ridiculous.
"Then perhaps you ought to concern yourself with your own affairs and leave mine to me," Lily Rose retorted.
"My affairs?" Gerard gave a disbelieving snort. "Young lady, your affairs are my affairs until I see you properly settled. And since Aunt Primrose seems more interested in encouraging your foolishness than correcting it, I'll have Donovan engage someone who can."
"Someone who can do what?"
"Teach you how to occupy yourself like a respectable young lady. Music, painting, whatever it is you ladies do when you're not causing trouble."
Lily Rose stared at him. "You mean to tell me that after all the years Mother spent teaching me to be a lady, you think I need lessons?"
"If that's what it takes!" Gerard declared.
Lily Rose could scarcely believe him.
"In the meantime," Gerard continued, "there are perfectly suitable gentlemen right here at the club. Fellows with backbone. Men who know how to take a punch."
Lily Rose regarded him warily. "What gentlemen?"
"Lender, for one. And Buster's not a bad sort."
"Lender? Buster?" She stared at him. "Gerard, Lender has cauliflower ears and a brain to match, and Buster's nose has been broken so many times it’s…” She shuddered.
"Neither of them lacks courage."
"Neither of them possesses much sense, either!"
Gerard waved away her objection. "A woman can always improve a man's manners."
Lily Rose wondered whether it had ever occurred to her brother that a man might require something more than a sturdy jaw to make a decent husband.
"And what, precisely, am I supposed to do with either of them?" Lily Rose demanded. "Spend the rest of my days discussing prizefights?"
"You might find you enjoy their company."
"I'd sooner marry a lamppost!"
"At least a lamppost knows how to stand its ground," Gerard replied.
Lily Rose stared at him. Of all the times for Gerard to develop a sense of humour!
"You're impossible!"
"And you're far too particular. Lender and Buster are good men."
"Good boxers, Gerard. There's a difference."
"A good boxer needs discipline, courage, and determination," Gerard declared. "Those are qualities any woman ought to appreciate in a husband."
"And what about kindness? Intelligence? The ability to hold a conversation without mentioning somebody's left hook?"
"You're exaggerating."
"Am I? You haven't once asked what I might want in a husband."
Gerard shifted in his chair. "I know what's best for you."
Lily Rose tightened her lips. There it was again. The same answer he gave whenever she dared disagree with him.
"Someday, Gerard, you're going to discover that you can't win every argument simply because you're accustomed to winning every fight."
Gerard laughed. "I'll worry about losing when somebody gives me reason to. Until then, any fellow who wants your hand knows where to find me."
Lily Rose gave an exasperated huff. There was simply no reasoning with the man!
"Well, just you wait, Gerard. Someday someone is going to knock that conceit right out of you, and I intend to be there when it happens!"
"Then I hope you've brought a comfortable chair. You'll be waiting a long time."
Before Lily Rose could think of a suitable reply, the office door opened and Aunt Primrose stepped inside.
"Well, well!" she said brightly, glancing from one sibling to the other. "I see the match is still underway."
"Aunt Primrose," Gerard said stiffly.
"Now then, my dears." She gave them both a charming smile. "Have we settled this little bout to everyone's satisfaction?"
"Yes," Gerard declared.
"No!" Lily Rose exclaimed at precisely the same moment.
Brother and sister turned to glare at each other.
"Ah." Aunt Primrose nodded as though this were precisely the answer she'd expected. "Then I suggest we call an end to this round and have another go when the footing is more even."
Before Gerard could object, she slipped an arm through Lily Rose's.
"Come along, my dear. A sensible fighter knows when to retire to her corner."
Lily Rose allowed herself to be steered into the corridor, though she couldn't resist one last indignant look at her brother.
Once they were safely beyond Gerard's hearing, Lily Rose turned to her aunt. "You told me not to throw in the towel!"
"And you didn't, my dear." Aunt Primrose adjusted her kid-leather gloves with an air of satisfaction. "You merely returned to your corner between rounds."
"But he hasn't changed his mind!"
"Did you truly expect him to surrender after one encounter?" Her aunt gave a knowing smile. "Your brother has been champion too long to recognize when he's met his match."
Lily Rose glanced back toward the closed office door. Perhaps Aunt Primrose had a point. Gerard might have won today's argument, but she had no intention of allowing him to make the most important decision of her life.
The Candy Cane Champion continues next week!
Episode 2 will be posted right here on the blog next Friday, November 6. Be sure to come back and find out what happens next!
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