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“We’ll see you at Putney Heath, then, for the next fair,” Niamh said, kissing her cheek. “Be sure to give Connie’s tent a wide berth now or she’ll have you in there doing all the packing.”

Lizzie nodded and made her way back out into the fresh air with a sigh of relief. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from the dim interior, and it was while she was stood blinking in the light that someone sidled up to her.

“Given your swains the slip, then?” asked a voice to her right. Sebastian turned sharply, but apparently recognized the newcomer, and so did Lizzie after a split second for it was Daphne.

“Hello, Daphne,” she responded coolly, not caring for the woman’s over-familiar tone or what she was implying.

“I seen you gadding about with your gentlemen friends. Guessed you didn’t have quite so much starch in your drawers as you made out, or he wouldn’t hardly have married you, would he? I still can’t see how you hooked him, mind you,” the other carried on snidely.

Lizzie felt herself bristle but didn’t want to give Daphne the satisfaction of launching into explanations. “And why are you so far from the boxing tent?” she asked instead. “I thought you took the entrance fees.”

Daphne sniffed. “They didn’t put on much of a show today as it ’appens. Packed up early, didn’t they. After they’d knocked merry hell out of each other, that is.”

Lizzie felt a lurch of alarm. “After they’d what? What time is it anyway?” she asked gazing about in consternation.

Daphne smirked knowingly. “Lost track of your day, did you? Well, that’s what happens when you’re enjoying yourself.”

Lizzie turned a look of exasperation on her. “Are they packing up the boxing saloon?” she asked outright.

Daphne looked her up and down and folded her arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked with a decided sneer.

Lizzie turned on her heel and headed in the direction of the boxing tent. She thought Daphne called jeeringly after her, but she paid her no heed and did not catch her mocking words. With Sebastian trotting along beside her, they soon reached the tent, or rather the spot where the tent had once stood.

Lizzie stared about her in consternation, turning in a full circle as she gazed about for any sign of the Toomes family, but there was none. She felt a momentary panic well up inside her when suddenly she heard someone shout her name. Whirling about with tears in her eyes, she saw Benedict standing a few yards away and took off toward him with a choked cry.

She saw a flash of surprise in his eyes the instant before she was caught up in his arms and held tight. “Lizzie?” he asked in muffled tones as she hung about his neck. She shook her head, feeling words were beyond her at this point. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” she managed to choke out, struggling to regain control of herself. “I just – I thought you’d left without me,” she admitted, dropping her arms and attempting to disentangle herself. To her consternation, she found herself hoisted rather more firmly into his arms.

“Well, that was foolish,” he answered coolly and swung around with her still in his arms toward the beer tent.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re joining Jack and Frank in The Adam and Eve for a farewell drink.” He looked back over his shoulder and whistled to Sebastian. “Where have you been anyway? I went to Connie’s tent earlier and there was no one to be seen.”

“There was a bit of an upset,” Lizzie admitted, plucking at his shoulder. “The Wurtzels have run away to the continent, and Connie flew into a fury about it.”

His stride checked. “Not with you?”

“With all of us,” Lizzie clarified. “She screamed at us all to clear out, so we did.”

By this point they were inside the beer tent, and Benedict slid her down his front until she was stood on her own two feet. “What happened to your face?” Lizzie asked with surprise, noticing the red marks about his cheekbones.

“Jack happened,” he said, seizing her hand in his. “He’s turned out a lot better boxer than I thought he would, only don’t tell him I said so.”

Lizzie opened her mouth but did not get the chance to voice her words as she was tugged in his wake until they reached a table near the bar area.

“Lizzie!” cried Jack who looked to be in high spirits, though he sported both a split lip and a swollen eye. He patted the seat next to his own. “Come and sit! We’re celebrating.”

Frank seemed to be in a lot more subdued spirits, but he gave her a tired smile and added his entreaties for her to sit, removing his cap and pulling out her chair. Sebastian shot under the table and sat there looking alert with his ears sticking straight up in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Lizzie asked, seating herself as some beer was sloshed into her mug from the pitcher.

“The best takings in two years, that’s what,” Frank said, as Benedict pulled up another seat and set it next to hers.

“A successful reunion of the Toomes brothers,” Jack said, wiping the foam from his moustache with the back of his hand.

“You should shave that off,” Benedict said critically, dropping into his chair. “It looks ridiculous.”