Page 33 of The Boxing Baroness
“Is there a third position?” he asked with a mildness he was far from feeling.
“I’m taking my horse with me. I had planned to pay the lads taking care of my uncle’s animals to look after Reggie, but I could engage a groom without raising any eyebrows. Since taking care of Reggie won’t be a full-time job, whoever takes that position can also drive the caravan I’ll share with Cecile and Josephine. That means he’d be transporting our luggage, running our errands, and whatever else needs doing.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a belligerent look. “So, there are three positions. Whoever takes the first two will have to pass muster with Jack. The groom job is one I can bestow myself.”
“Staunton boxes with the Gentleman thrice a week—he’s your man when it comes to training,” Guy said quickly, smirking at Sin. “I think I’m best suited for the groom position.”
Sin gave the other man a look that promised retribution. Thanks to Guy, he would be closeted with a hostile woman for hours every day.
Marianne regarded Sin from beneath heavy lids but said nothing.
“I will take Jack’s position,” he said, as if he had any choice.
“You know that we cannot keep your identities from my uncle?”
“I trust it will go no further?”
“I’m not eager to share the news, nor will he be. So, unless anyone else recognizes you—and I can hardly be held responsible for that, can I?—nobody else will know.”
“Nobody will recognize us,” he assured her.
She gave a skeptical-sounding grunt. “I hope you understand that I will actually need you to do at least some of these tasks?”
“Yes, you may have mentioned that four or five times. In the past five minutes.”
She gave him another scathing once-over. “You look as if you might be fit enough, but this is going to be real work, not sparring with the Gentleman down at the club thrice a week.”
Guy made a sound like a dog whining as he tried—unsuccessfully—to repress his laughter.
“Yes, Miss Simpson,” Sin shot back acidly, “I understand.”
“Also, I’m not going to pay any of you. Indeed, I’m wondering if you shouldn’t pay me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, St. John saw Elliot bite his lip and look down at the floor to hide his expression. On his other side Guy was now snuffling and snorting like a truffle-hunting pig.
Sin sighed. “How much do you require?”
She looked displeased by his easy compliance. “Never mind about that. I don’t need your money.” She turned to Guy. “Lord Carlisle—I can hardly call you that. What name will you go by?”
“Guy is fine.” He smiled. “Guy Darling.”
She looked amused by that. “Fine. Guy, you won’t need to do much of anything until a few days before we leave. You can collect the caravans—both mine and one you three will share. While you needn’t come with the other two on Friday, you should make an appearance sometime next week so I can introduce you to Cecile and Josephine, both of whom you will also be”—she gave him a mean, slit-eyed look—“serving.”
“Yes, Miss Simpson,” he said meekly.
She eyed him suspiciously before turning back to Sin. “I asked my uncle about the locket and letter, and he knew nothing of them.”
Sin wondered if she could really be so naïve as to believe a word that came out of Barnabas Farnham’s mouth.
“Go ahead and look as disbelieving as you like,” she said, reading his expression accurately. “He is my uncle and if he said he doesn’t know, then he doesn’t know. Are you going to have him imprisoned just because he doesn’t have what you want?”
He did not dignify that with an answer. “When will you want me to start . . . serving you?”
She grinned, and it disturbed Sin that he found the expression more than a little taking.
“You should come along with Mr. Wingate so Jack can meet and approve of you. My guess is that he’ll want you both to assume your duties immediately so he can keep an eye on you.”
“He will expect us to start before we leave?” Sin asked, trying to keep his annoyance out of his voice but—judging by the smirk on her face—failing miserably.
