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Lizzie drew her knees up, dislodging his hand and wrapping her arms about her legs. “And why is that?” she asked, fortifying herself and feeling strangely grateful to Ma Toomes for preparing her for this moment.

He paused, seeming to measure his words. “I loved my mother a good deal,” he said on an outward breath. “When she left my father, I was eight years old and I went with her. Just me, you understand? She left both Frank and Jack with Pa.”

Lizzie sucked in a breath. “Why did she take only you?”

“Because I begged her to. I returned to the wagon unexpectedly one morning and found her packing to leave. She tried to lie and tell me that she was just going to visit with friends, but I knew she didn’t have any. I told her if she didn’t take me, I’d run and tell Pa she was leaving him.”

He fell quiet a moment before continuing. “At first, it was fine. We were on the road together. We slept in barns, and I looked out for her. She danced for money in the villages at the taverns. Then we stopped a while in one village. She took up with a musician who lived above the blacksmiths. She was merry and laughed a good deal. He wasn’t so bad, all told. Then one morning, I woke up and she was gone. They’d moved on without me.”

Lizzie drew in a noisy breath. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want me slowing them down, an extra mouth to feed over winter months, who knows? Whatever the reason, I had no one and was considered a burden on the parish. Can’t say as I blamed them, I wasn’t from round those parts.”

“What happened to you?” Lizzie asked, sitting up straight, though she already had an idea thanks to Ma.

Benedict’s face was expressionless. “I told them I had a family, knew their name and their direction, for even at that age I knew the fairs by the month of the year. It was September and they would be at Stourbridge. Even though my Pa couldn’t read, I knew a letter addressed to him there would reach him, and he could find someone there to read it to him.”

“And they wrote to him?”

“They did.” Lizzie waited. After a moment, he continued. “We had the reply by the end of the following week. He said he could not spare the fare for my journey and would not travel to our neck of the woods fully for a twelvemonth. In the meantime, he recommended they should place me in the workhouse until it was convenient for him to fetch or send for me.”

Lizzie caught her breath. “No!" Benedict nodded, his expression wooden. “Is that what happened? They put you in the workhouse?”

“They did.”

Lizzie launched herself across the divide between them, throwing her arms about his neck. “How dare they? How dare they?” she repeated on an angry sob. “No wonder you hate him. I hate him!” Benedict gave a choked laugh, wrapping his arms about her. Neither spoke for a long moment. “He did not fetch you for a long time, did he?”

“It was over two years,” he said quietly.

“They had better hope that I never meet that wicked man!” she seethed.

He chuckled again, but then grew quickly sober. “I think it was in the workhouse that I decided I wanted different things to my family,” he admitted. “To kick my father out, then eventually leave the booth and the fairgrounds behind me altogether. Get a house, a wife.” He paused. “Children of my own who would go to school.”

Lizzie’s breath caught. “I’m glad you achieved your revenge and kicked him out,” she said warmly. “Though how your brothers dare speak to you of family loyalty … ” She trailed off. “Next time Jack accuses you of that, I shall have plenty to say to him, that’s all!”

Benedict smirked, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “Hmm, well. I think we’re working our way toward some kind of understanding, me and my brothers, I mean,” he murmured.

“I do not think the rift between you is as wide as you imagine,” Lizzie said from his shoulder. “It seems to me the three of you are really quite close.”

“We’ll be fine,” he agreed with a note of finality. “Let’s not get sidetracked.”

“And we’ll be fine also,” Lizzie said stoutly, as she drew back, patting his chest. “Whether you wish to remain on the road or to settle in your house on Winchester Street.”

He looked at her very intently. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I do.”

“I can easily sell the house if it’s not to your taste.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s a very fine house.”

He looked relieved. “Nat Jones did leave a message with Frank. He means to back me, to the top this time.”

Lizzie gasped. “You mean, you will get your championship fight?”

He nodded. “It’ll take twelve months or so before I get my shot, but I’ll get it. He gave me his word.”

“That’s wonderful! Hence, the champagne.” He nodded, still watching her, his expression serious. Lizzie hesitated. “Benedict, why then do you look like that?” she asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns.