Alpha Knighton

"Again!"   The demanding tone vibrated through the large open room, bringing every other combatant in the building to a standstill, silence grew the tension.   Gregory Alister, sixth Duke of Knighton, was pushing himself from the padded floor, a trickle of bl*od marring his bottom lip. Rising to his feet he swiped at the small wound with the back of his hand, smiling at the crimson smeared on his skin.   Jackson, the owner, and operator of the boxing house felt a shudder run down his spine at that smile, and for the first time since he'd began training the nobility, he regretted having delivered a blow. Not because the man in question was just one step down from royalty, but because he had to be one of the most frightening men Jackson had ever had the pleasure of training. Though if he was completely honest with himself, and he always strived to be just that, he felt as if he were the one being trained when he was sparing with the duke.   "Perhaps a break, your Grace?" Jackson offered, moving to pull the wrapping from his knuckles and exit the sparing ring.   "I do not believe I asked for a break." Knighton's deep voice rang out, bringing Jackson to a halt. "Did you hear me demand a break, Langston?" The duke asked of his secretary. A man Jackson knew would give as good as the duke if he ever entered the ring.   "I did not hear you ask for any such thing, your Grace." Langston muttered with a smirk; his arms crossed over his barrel chest as he leaned against one of the corner posts of the sparing ring. His black eyes were trained on Jackson, a dare to go against a member of the ton.   Jackson was not known for balking from a fight, and he refused to do so now. "If you insist, your grace." Taking his place once more, Jackson raised his fists and faced the taller man.   "Knighton!" A shout rang through the still quiet room, drawing the attention of not only the three men in the center ring, but the others still observing all along the smaller sparing areas.   "Allington." Knighton responded, an eyebrow rising in question as the smartly dressed Earl of Allington made his way to the edge of the ring. "What can I do for you?"   "The Marwood Ball is tonight, you were still attending, correct?"   "Of course, I accepted the invitation after all." Knighton grumbled, dropping his fists with a sigh of exasperation. "I fail to see what that has to do with you interrupting my exercise?"   "Oh, come now, I assume you do not want to frighten the young misses with a bruised and swollen face." The earl laughed, his dark blue eyes flickering between the duke and his now stock faced secretary. Allington coughed to cover the laughter, brushing a nervous hand along his shoulder as if to clear it of imaginary dust.   "You believe I will lose the match." The duke stated, though his impassive expression gave away no clue as to how the words made him feel.   "I do think that is precisely what he is saying, Knighton." Langston agreed that ever-present smile tipping the edge of his lips.   "I meant no insult, Knighton, simply made to remind you of an engagement is all." Allington argued, watching as Knighton plucked a towel from the air his secretary had tossed him. Clearing his throat nervously, Allington stepped back, away from the ring. "Anyhow, I'll see you tonight, your Grace." With that he was gone from the establishment. Living a grinning Langston and glowering Knighton behind.   "Tomorrow? The same time?" Jackson asked as he climbed from the ring and grabbed his own towel from a chair nearby to wipe the sweat from his brow.   "If I'm to dance the night away then perhaps we should move our appointment tomorrow back a few hours, closer to twelve." Knight replied as he climbed from the ring, his hand wrapping around the glass his steward was handing him.   "Just so, try to not be as distracted. I've never landed a punch on you before, but I would have sworn your eyes seemed to mist over right before the hit landed. Good day your Grace." With that Jackson was gone, checking on the other gentlemen training in his gym at present.   "Your eyes misted over?" Langston inquired softly, helping his employer and friend slip into his garments he'd shed for the sparing match. "Who distracted you?"   "Marcus. Apparently, a letter has arrived from Knighton Hall."   "Do I want to ask what it contained?"   Glancing around the hall, Knighton picked up his coat and walked for the door, choosing another form of communication with his friend.   "The Anderson pups were running near the stream when a hunter happened upon them." Langston's eyes grew wide as the duke's words entered his mind and almost tripped in their haste to leave.   "And what happened?"   "The hunter will no longer be a problem." Knighton's words held an edge of finality that left no need for imagination as to the context of his words. The hunter had been kill*d and disposed of, so as to protect their secrets.   "Bl*ody hell." Langston grumbled under his breath as he and the duke climbed into his carriage. "The Andersons?"   "Being delt with, Marcus said they were exceedingly apologetic and swore it would never happen again."   "It shouldn't have happened this time!" Langston growled, his hand involuntarily moving to his neck and loosening the cravat that not felt much akin to a noose at this point.   "Calm yourself, Langston." Knighton demanded, narrowing his dark gaze on his friend. "We cannot afford for you to change at this point."   "Yes, of course Alpha-." The secretary began, cutting his words short as he realized his mistake. "I mean, your grace."   "Right, now we have a ball to prepare for." Knighton murmured, sounding less than enthusiastic about the prospect ahead of them. “And a Duchess to find.”