Page 101 of The Boxing Baroness

Going south was always their plan. “We shall be gone in less than two hours.”

DuBois inclined his head and the three men scurried out.

“Elliot was with me when we heard about this Garnier character,” Guy said, walking beside him as they left the empty taproom and headed upstairs. “He’s gone to get the caravans ready to go.”

They paused on the landing. “Have you seen anyone else?” Sin asked—meaning Marianne.

Before Guy could answer, the sound of footsteps on the stairs made them both turn.

It was Farnham, and his wild eyes told Sin he’d already heard the news. “We need to leave now before—”

“We know,” Sin said shortly.

Barnabas glanced at the door to Marianne’s room. “Will you—”

“I’ll tell her,” Sin said.

Barnabas nodded and hurried to the room he shared with his lover.

Sin turned to Guy. “I’ll find the women and alert them that we are leaving.”

Guy nodded. “I’ll just collect the few things I left in Elliot’s room and then bring the women’s caravan around.”

“See you in an hour in the courtyard?”

Guy nodded and disappeared into a room down the hallway.

Sin was just about to knock on Marianne’s door when he heard more feet coming up the stairs.

The moment she saw him she said, “We need to—”

“I know,” Sin said. “You’ll need to make haste; we have barely an hour.”

* * *

Marianne was still shaking three hours later, even though the town of Lille was already several miles behind them.

She heard horse hooves and turned to find Sin cantering toward her.

“Nobody is following us,” Sin said before she could ask. “Or if they are, they’re more than an hour behind us.”

She exhaled a shaky breath.

“Tell me what happened,” he said quietly when he drew up beside her.

The two of them were riding behind the three caravans, while Elliot rode ahead to make sure they weren’t traveling into a worse mess.

“How do you know anything happened?”

He gave her a dry look.

“We were in that little café on the Rue Comtesse when a group of men came in. They had red scarves around their necks and were armed with truncheons. They recognized me, and started taunting me, saying they wanted to see me fight one of their number—a man. We were fortunate that some men from a rival gang came into the café and the two groups started to argue. The waiter was kind and led us out through the bakery onto the back alley. It was . . . terrifying.”

“It’s not too late for you to go home, Marianne.”

“No. I’ve come too far, and I want answers—answers that only Dominic seems to have. Besides,” she added, “there’s no saying the people we met on our way to Calais would be any better than the ones we’ll find on this road. In any event, I think we have a fair chance of passing for French as long as we don’t encounter anyone who recognizes us from Lille.”

Sin cut her an amused look. “And as long as Guy and I pretend we are mute.”