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Something about the way she said ‘little bride’ had Lizzie narrowing her eyes, but the other woman was all affability as she listened to Benedict’s suggestion, if a little skeptical.

“Think you can keep my punters in line, do you my dear?” she asked, cocking her head to one side as she considered Lizzie in her plain garb and bonnet. She must be wearing an awful lot of hat pins, Lizzie thought, watching the large arrangement of wax fruit balanced on her brassy head. It did not move an inch.

“If you ask me, I think you’re in for a rude awakening,” Connie continued gustily. “But you’re free to try, by all means. Far be it from me to throw a damper on your scheme. And I never could refuse one of the Toomes boys, now could I?” she said, brushing the front of Benedict’s waistcoat and eyeing him with a good deal more warmth than she had Lizzie.

Lizzie’s spine stiffened, but at that instant, Benedict stepped back.

“Pastry crumbs, my dear,” Connie said. “Someone ate his breakfast on the move.”

Benedict smiled perfunctorily and extended his hand to Lizzie. “Walk me out.” She accompanied him outside the tent. “You’re sure you want to try this?” he asked, turning to her as soon as they were out in the cold morning air. “You could just come with me. If you don’t like taking the entrance fee, you could do something else,” he said vaguely.

“Such as?” Lizzie asked, feeling strangely touched by his inclination to keep her with him.

He shrugged. “Hold my shirt while I box,” he suggested with a glint in his eye.

“A chair could do that,” Lizzie pointed out.

He glanced quickly round, then caught her about the waist. “Give me a kiss, then, to be going on with,” he demanded gruffly.

Lizzie squeaked as his hand cupped the back of her neck, bringing her face close to his. She scarcely had time to utter his name before his lips were upon hers, hot and demanding. Lizzie’s head reeled. This was not a goodbye kiss in her opinion. When he abruptly released her, she would have stumbled if the tent pole had not been conveniently close.

“I’ll fetch you for lunch,” he said. “About one.”

Lizzie nodded, striving to catch her breath. She watched him stride away in the direction of the boxing tent, feeing all of a flutter.

“He’s knocked your bonnet crooked,” said Connie dryly. Lizzie whipped around and found the older woman watching her from just inside the tent. “You set yourself straight before anyone turns up. Run a respectable establishment, I do.” She sniffed. “You needn’t think you can stand around mooning after that fine husband of yours neither! If you’re here, you’re here to work. I got no time for idlers.”

Lizzie reached up and adjusted her bonnet. “Of course, Mrs. Brown,” she answered, wondering where Mr. Brown might be.

“You’d best call me Connie,” the other replied without enthusiasm. “And I’ll warn you now, little lady. If you don’t work out, I shall tell your husband so and you needn’t think my fondness for a handsome face will prevent it.”

Lizzie felt herself suddenly in the grip of the oddest sensation. For the verist instant, she pictured herself snatching Connie’s ridiculous hat off her head, flinging it on the floor, and jumping up and down on it until it was flat as a pancake. When she regained control of her riotous thoughts once more, she breathed in deeply. “I am sure we will both of us give the other a fair trial,” she answered coolly.

Connie gave a mirthless laugh. “Look lively. Here’s Niamh and the twins,” she said briskly as a tall redhead ducked into the tent followed by two slender dark maidens of identical appearance.

“Good mornin’ to you,” the redhead started heartily. “But who’s this?” she asked looking Lizzie up and down in surprise.

“The new girl,” Connie answered briskly. “She’s Alfred’s replacement.”

“Alfred?” Niamh echoed and gave a hearty laugh. “You’re joking!”

“Not at all, she’s going to keep our paying visitors in check, ain’t that right, Lizzie my girl?”

“Certainly,” Lizzie answered, inclining her head. “I am happy to make your acquaintance.”

Niamh blinked. “Fairly got the grand manner, hasn’t she?” she said addressing Connie. “Looks like she could freeze a duke at ten paces.”

Connie looked much struck by this observation. “She has,” she said slowly. “Indeed, she has got something of the governess about her,” she admitted tapping a finger against her chin. “Perhaps we could use that to our advantage?”

The twins approached Lizzie, catching her hands and holding them extended out by her sides. “She needs props,” one of them said eagerly.

The other nodded, turning to Connie “Where is Zuleika’s parasol?”

“That old thing?” Niamh cried. “She’d look a regular ratbag carrying that tatty thing about!”

One of the twins released Lizzie’s hand to scurry over to a large trunk. Flinging open the lid, she delved inside until she retrieved a rather battered looking parasol of black lace and silk with a fringe hanging down. “Here!” she said brandishing it with a triumphant flourish before hurrying back to offer it to Lizzie.

Lizzie took it hesitantly, though to be honest she privately agreed with Niamh’s scathing pronouncement. The parasol had indeed seen better days. Hefting it in her hand, she had to admit it was a good substantial weight.