Page 26 of The Boxing Baroness

“Does it matter?”

He swallowed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“This must have been going on for years,” she said.

He licked his lips. “I had been managing the debts—borrowing to pay off the ones that came due, but then, I had a bad run of—”

She raised a hand. “Please, spare me the sordid details.”

“What are you going to do, Marianne?”

She laughed and her uncle flinched at the almost demented sound. “What are my choices, Uncle?”

“There must be some other—”

“I know that you sent me to school hoping that I could find respectable work, but if nobody would hire me as a governess before I started boxing, they’re hardly likely to do so now that I’m the Boxing Baroness, are they?” she demanded, fury and desolation battling inside her. They’d been naïve and foolish to expect that a decent education would offset her association with a circus. Six months of applying for positions—even in far-flung parts of Britain—had convinced her there was only one way to earn a living.

“I had hoped to quit fighting in three years—now I will be forced to continue for another six, at least. I am wondering what will be left of me by that time and if quitting will even matter by then.”

“I can make it up to you, my dear. I swear. It is not the end of things. I will be able to . . .”

“What?” she demanded when he stopped.

“I can get you the money. It will just take some time—”

“I hope you do not mean smuggling, because that is—”

“No, no—it’s not—”

“Then you think to win everything back at the tables?”

“No.”

She flung up her hands. “Then what?”

“I—I can’t tell you just yet, but I swear on my mother’s eyes that I will get back your money. It will just take a little time—”

“We don’t have time, Uncle.” Marianne didn’t even want to know what he was scheming.

“How did you learn about this, Marianne?”

His question reminded her of the man behind this conversation. “The Duke of Staunton came to me—he bought up all your vowels.”

Barnabas goggled in a way that might have been amusing any other time. “Staunton? But—but why? I’ve never played cards with him in my life.” His brow furrowed. “Is this about closing us down for moral reasons—is that why he’s done it?”

Marianne knew she should tell her uncle the whole of it, but she was too angry to be fair to him just then. Besides, she couldn’t bear to bring up Dominic or the fact that he was still alive. Her uncle and the baron had brought out the worst in each other; the last thing she wanted was to bring them back together again.

“He did it because he wants to force me to cooperate with him.”

“Cooperate, about wh—”

“Staunton mentioned a locket and a letter—do you know what he is talking about?”

Barnabas’s jaw sagged and the color drained from his ruddy cheeks.

“Uncle?” she said sharply when he only stared. “What letter and locket is he talking about?”

“Er—” He swallowed and met her angry gaze. “I don’t know?”