Lady Charlotte greeted Smith with a wide grin when he returned to Eastbrook Hall. “Where have you been, John? You’ve missed all the fun.”
Smith indicated Bowlt’s body, draped across the back of a spare horse. “I’ve been busy,” he said. “How did the fight end up?”
“The Blacksmith was losing,” Lady Charlotte said. “He took an awful hammering from the Battler and was knocked down for five consecutive rounds.” She laughed. “There was blood everywhere, and I thought we’d have to run to France to escape our creditors when the Blacksmith found some spare energy, landed a flurry of blows and ended with an uppercut.”
“Did he win?” Smith asked.
“He won,” Lady Charlotte said. “We’re richer than Croesus, John.”
Smith nodded as he dismounted. The grounds were a shambles of discarded bottles, tramp
