Page 150 of The Boxing Baroness

“Of course.” Guy’s forehead furrowed. “What else could there be?”

Sin stared.

Guy’s eyes widened until there was white all around the irises. “You didn’t.”

Sin turned back toward the horizon.

“Are you mad?”

Why did people keep asking him that? He was one of the sanest people he knew.

“Is who mad?” Elliot asked, coming up on Sin’s other side.

“Sin asked Marianne to marry him.”

Elliot’s mouth opened and his eyebrows shot up. He took one look at Sin’s face and closed his mouth. “Hmm.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Guy demanded.

Elliot ignored him.

“And what about you and, er, Brown, Elliot?” Guy prodded. “Did you ask her to marry you?” He chortled. “Did you need to ask Angus’s permission, first?”

Elliot was as expressive as a granite carving.

Guy flung up his hands. “What? I am only jesting. What has gotten into you two? How did you think this would all end? Am I the only one with any sense left at all?”

“Not if the word sense means what I think it does.”

All three of them turned at the sound of Cecile’s mocking voice.

Cecile and Jo—and Angus—had just come up on deck, and the Frenchwoman smirked at Guy, arching one black eyebrow, as if daring him to speak.

Wisely, Guy kept his mouth shut.

“How is Marianne feeling?” Sin asked.

“She will live,” Cecile said, coming to rest against the railing. “But seasickness makes one wish one would die.”

“Please, let us not say the S word.” Elliot shuddered.

“That’s right,” Guy said. “On the way over you were the one bent over the rail and, er, never mind,” he said at Elliot’s murderous look.

Cecile turned to Sin, purposely ignoring her erstwhile lover. “What will you do when you reach London, Your Grace?”

“I’m not going to London,” Sin said, assuming Cecile was on a mission from Marianne to determine the best way to avoid any awkward meeting once they disembarked. “I shall go home—to Wortham.” He didn’t know how long he’d stay. It had been his plan, if he’d brought Ben with him, to remain at Wortham until the end of the year, continuing with the deception that he’d gone to America.

Now, however . . . Well, with war on the table, he’d need to go to town sooner than later. When people asked about his sudden return, he’d have to fabricate something.

“I’m going to London,” Guy offered when Cecile pointedly did not ask.

“And you?” she asked Elliot.

“I shall be returning to work. I daresay I’ll be quite busy.” He cut a quick glance at Jo, but she seemed unaware of their conversation, scratching Angus’s head while the raven purred exactly like a cat.

“Indeed,” Elliot added more loudly. “I’m sure they’ll have desperate need of me—perhaps they will even be hiring more employees with certain, er, talents.”

Jo strolled away from them, walking toward the bow.