A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

returning quickly to the former.  She could see no likeness between the two of half-brothers either.  “But surely… surely there would then exist some bar to our marrying?”
“Why?  There is no blood connection between the both of you,” Jeremy said with a shrug.  “And you have never lived under the same roof, so I fail to see why there should be any impediment whatsoever.”
Mina opened her mouth and closed it again.  After all, if William Nye was illegitimate, then his relationship to Lord Faris would not be legally acknowledged.  They did not even share a name.  She cast an uncertain glance at Nye, only to find him staring back at her.  This time, he was the one to glance hurriedly away.  “I see,” she said weakly.  “And why did you imagine this would make things neater for you?”
Jeremy shrugged.  “Oh, I don’t know.  Having all my siblings under one roof,” he said airily.
Mina’s jaw dropped at this.
Nye uttered a sound of disgust and turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.
“Taciturn chap, isn’t he?” Jeremy commented.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Mina said, turning her back to him and picking up her cloth again.  “I’m very busy this morning.”
“Birds of a feather,” Jeremy sighed.  “But why am I always the odd one out?”
When she did not respond, instead applying herself wholeheartedly to her task, he finally took the unspoken hint and left.
Mina’s shoulders slumped the minute he exited the room and she stared down at her work-roughened hands a minute lost in thought.  Then just as swiftly, she sat up, squaring her shoulders again.  It was no good dwelling on spilled milk, she scolded herself.  What’s done was done.  All afternoon she threw herself into her work and by the time she dragged her tired body up to bed, the wood in the parlor bar was gleaming, including the floorboards.
6
The next morning Mina woke and remembered the rugs had been on the line for two whole nights now.  Hopefully, that should have dispelled any lingering fusty smells.  She would have to bring them in today, but first, they would need a good stiff brush in the yard.  She had entreated Edna to save their tea leaves for the purpose and should have quite a collection now after three days.  As she dressed and coiled her hair into a bun, she reflected she had heard no noises the night and made her way thoughtfully downstairs.
As had become the routine, she and Edna shared the hot water in the scullery to wash and Mina made the tea this time in a brown earthenware pot as Edna toasted tea cakes for their breakfast.  Mina refilled the copper with water from the pump, ate her breakfast and then carried her bowl of dried tea leaves and a bristle brush out to the yard where the rugs were swaying to and fro on the washing line.
She had been lucky it had not rained for two days, she thought glancing up at the blue sky.  It was a crisp day in early March.  The sun was nowhere to be seen, but at least there were no rainclouds.  Unpegging the six rugs, she laid them out side by side and sprinkled them liberally with the tea leaves.  She was just picking up her brush when a voice at her elbow startled her.
“Putting the place to rights, aren’t you, missus?”  Turning, Mina saw it was the old man who had winked at her in the bar and given her the bunch of flowers at the church.
“Good morning,” she said politely.  “Just giving the place a spruce up.”
“Arrr,” he commented, clamping his pipe between his teeth, and rocking back on his heels.
Mina cleared her throat.  “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name the other night.”
“That’s alright, don’t you fret none,” he said comfortably.  “Reckon you had enough to occupy you that night.  The name’s Gus.  Gus Hopkirk.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Hopkirk.  I’m Minerva Nye.”
“Minerva?” he repeated with a frown, taking his pipe out of his mouth.  “That’s not a name from ‘round these parts.”
“No indeed,” she agreed.  “I believe it’s Latin in origin.”
“A Roman name?” he gave her an appraising look.
“Yes.”
“Bit of a mouthful for me,” he said frankly.  “Reckon I’ll just call you Minnie.”  Mina was so taken aback by this piece of familiarity that she couldn’t think how to respond.  “Saw one of your birds last night, out at Gull Point,” he continued.
“One of my birds?”
“Aye,” he agreed and touched a finger to his nose.  “An owl.”  His eyes twinkled and he turned away, ambling across the yard.
Mina’s mouth fell open.  There was certainly more to Gus Hopkins than his rough outward appearance let on.  Otherwise, how would he know that owls were sacred to the Roman goddess Minerva?  She stared after him a moment, wondering if Gull’s Point would be on the cliffs and remembering she had not yet caught even a glimpse of the sea.
Why should she not take the afternoon off and go for a walk until she found the beach?  The idea appealed to her.  Even as a schoolteacher at her father’s school she had taken every Wednesday afternoon as a half-day holiday.  It was nice to have something to look forward to.  Her mind made up, she sat back on her haunches and started briskly to brush down the rugs.
A good deal of dirt came away with the tea leaves and floral patterns and borders emerged as she worked.  By the time she had finished, her own cuffs, hands, and apron were decidedly worse for wear.  There was no point changing her apron now, for she had decided to tackle the grimy windows that afternoon, so after hauling the rugs indoors, she simply went and washed her hands and face in the scullery and then went in search of