Page 23 of The Boxing Baroness

He wasn’t babbling by any means, but she suspected that he rarely felt as wrong-footed as he did at that moment.

A sense of power suffused her as she observed the slight breach in Lord Flawless’s composure. To be honest, she didn’t care about his seeing her naked—a person soon lost their physical modesty working in a circus—so much as invading her privacy.

Even so, she couldn’t help being amused that it had taken only a glimpse of her bare breasts to make one of the most powerful men in Britain blush like a maiden.

Amusement aside, she felt at a disadvantage standing before this impeccable creature while she was sweaty and half-clothed. She turned and snatched her dress off the back of the chair.

“You might be a duke, but you are still trespassing on private property.” She threw the words over her shoulder before slipping the gown over her head. Once she’d buttoned up the loose bodice, she turned to him. “Or are you above the law, Your Grace?”

“You may call the constable after I’ve spoken to you, Miss Simpson. I will pay the price for my trespass.”

“Oh, may I? Thank you so much for telling me what I may do. But first I must speak to you, even though I’ve told you repeatedly that I don’t wish to do so?” She crossed her arms over her chest to keep from physically lashing out. The more she thought about his sneaking around, the angrier she became.

“I want your cooperation on a few matters, Miss Simpson, and you shall be generously compensated for your efforts.”

“Because money is all my sort cares about, is it not?” she shot back.

“That’s not—”

“I already know you want me to talk to Strickland, so that’s one thing. What else do you want?”

“I understand your uncle will be leaving on a tour of the Continent at the end of next month.”

Marianne blinked at this unexpected tangent. “Yes, what of it? ”

“I want him to allow me and two others to accompany you.”

“What?”

“We will only travel with you as far as Metz.”

“We are not going to Metz,” she blurted, as if that had anything to do with his ludicrous request.

“I know. We will leave the circus at some point before then.”

Marianne rubbed her temple, which had begun to pound. “When you say we, you mean—”

“You will accompany us to the meeting with Dominic Strickland.”

She snorted with disbelief at his arrogance. “Let’s just say, for the sake of discussion, that I agreed to go with you. Why in the world would you want to travel with a touring group? We will keep a grueling schedule and use caravans to travel. You are a wealthy man. If you want to see Dominic so badly, why not take a coach and six and travel in comfort? Why not—” Marianne stopped and shook her head. “I cannot believe I am having this conversation. Perhaps Tommy hit me harder than I thought,” she said to herself.

The duke raised an eyebrow.

“Are you addled, Your Grace? I feel that I must ask.” She exaggeratedly looked around. “Have you escaped from your keeper? Is he or she searching for you?”

He took a few steps toward her, until he stood close enough to strike her, if he were so inclined. Marianne refused to step away and had to crane her neck to look up at him.

“What I want from you is twofold. First, the cover of your circus. Second, I want to keep you close at hand; I don’t wish to go running all over Europe when the time comes to see Strickland. We can argue about this all day long, Miss Simpson. But know this: I will not be deterred. Ever.”

It was all she could do not to back down from his cold, implacable gaze. “No.”

He stared.

Marianne stared back, astounded—and disgusted—when her skin began to prickle with sweat under the weight of his icy eyes. “If you think you can glare me into submission, you are sorely mistaken, Your Grace.”

He reached into his breast pocket. “Perhaps you might want to look at this.”

Like a child, she put her hands behind her back. “I told you I didn’t want to read the baron’s letter—”