Violet was on another path.
“Miss Sharpe?” Angelica popped her head from behind the curtain that separated the backroom from the front. “The boys are here.”
Ah, good. “Tell them to come collect the arrangements.”
A few seconds later, Terry and Pip hurried in.
“Morning, Miss Sharpe,” they chirped in near unison.
Violet shook her head and smiled, greeting them back. These boys would never have been her first choice in hires. They were far too young. However, they had scared off all the other children, and their persistence had won her over in the end. “That one’s for Mrs. Penworthy and the other for Miss Barnes.”
“Yes, miss,” said Pip, already reaching for a basket, while Terry reached for the other.
“There are two more arrangements for later this afternoon.”
Both boys stilled, arms falling to their sides.
Violet arched a brow. Oh? What was this?
“This afternoon?” Pip asked.
“Do you have better things to do, then?” Violet asked.
Angelica crossed her arms. “Just what is it? Spit it out. What mischief are you planning to cook up this afternoon?”
“We aren’t cookin’ up anything!” Terry denied.
Angelica narrowed her eyes on the boys, which made Violet smile. “This isn’t about the prizefighting, is it?”
Violet promptly froze. Prizefighting?
The word set a violent shiver trailing the length of her back. Her body understood the danger long before her mind could reason it away. And her mind did attempt to reason all the danger away.
It’s nothing, Vi.
These sorts of things happen all over England. The world.
“It’s promised to be the biggest fight Brighton’s ever seen!” Terry blurted, his eyes gleaming, plucking a leaflet from the back pocket of his trousers and handing it to Violet. “Everyone’s goin’, even some gents from London, they say.”
Pip nodded vigorously. “The man with the undefeatable fist is fighting. They say he’s never been bested! Not once! You must’ve heard of him, Miss Sharpe. He’s a right legend!”
Violet blinked. She hadn’t heard of him, in fact. Not even the event, for that matter. “The undefeatableBrighton Brute? Sounds rather unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant?” Pip gasped. “He’s brilliant! One punch could end a man’s life!”
Rather dramatic.
Angelica tutted. “You’ll both end up in the jail if you’re caught at one of those brawls.”
“Who’s going to arrest me?” Terry argued hotly. “Not even the prince has the bullocks to stop a fight with the Brighton Brute!”
“Terry!” Angelica scolded.
Violet laughed. She’d met the prince once, and they were right. He wouldn’t stop the fight. Though she didn’t imagine itto be because he lacked anything, but rather, because the man would prefer to wager on the outcome. All rather barbaric. “And what, pray, does thisBrighton Brutegain from pummeling men senseless for sport?”
Pip grinned. “Glory, miss! He’s the best there is. He even has the scars to prove it! One vicious scar running from his eye down to his chin.”
Her breath caught halfway to her lungs, and her stomach gave a queer twist. No, that couldn’t be. But how many men had such a scar?
