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Benedict turned back to her with kindling eye. “Tell me now,” he rapped out in clipped tones. “But I may as well say it straight, you’re never to set foot in that tent again – ”

“It wasn’t anything to do with Wonderous Females!” Lizzie protested. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “It was Daphne,” she admitted. “But – ” His violent swearing cut off her words. “Benedict!” she gasped and clapped her hands to her ears. When he moved as though to fling away, she reached out and caught hold of him. “Where are you going?”

“To have a little word with Daphne,” he gritted out.

“She’s gone, remember?”

That caught his attention. “Gone?” He scowled. “Thought to save her own skin, I suppose.”

Lizzie surveyed the murderous look on his face with alarm. “Benedict … Calm down. People pummel you every day and I do not fly off the handle like this.”

“That’s my job, Lizzie. She had no right to lay a finger on you.”

Lizzie plucked at the sleeve she still grasped tightly. “I told her what I had done. Written to Maggie, I mean,” she admitted. “That was what incensed her.”

“Sit down,” he urged, lowering her onto the three-legged stool. “I’m going to fetch water and a clean cloth.”

Lizzie murmured some agreement and exchanged a wary look with Sebastian as her husband took off muttering darkly under his breath. She could not imagine that one swollen eye could merit all this fuss and felt frankly embarrassed by the whole business. Sebastian ducked his head and did a fake looking yawn, clearly unwilling to admit his own role in proceedings.

Benedict returned with a bowl of cold water and dabbed at her eye with a cloth to clean it. When next he spoke, it was in a low terse voice. “You should not be exposed to such company. I was mad to bring you here.”

It was uncanny how closely his words echoed her own uncle’s. Lizzie tipped her head to one side. “I disagree – ”

“No, I’ve learned my lesson,” he cut her off. “I’ll write to Edwards on the morrow and get the tenants out of Winchester Street.”

Lizzie caught her breath. “Winchester Street?”

He turned abstractedly. “It’s the house I own.”

Lizzie almost reeled. “House?” Now, he saw fit to mention this alleged house? “I thought the wagon was your home.”

He ignored this. “As soon as I can, I’ll have you installed as mistress there.”

Inexplicably, Lizzie felt a surge of panic. “Don’t I get any say in this?”

“I’ll have to finish up the season here, but I can join you later. I’ll speak to Frank and Jack about buying me out of the booth.”

“Now just a minute, Benedict!” Lizzie interrupted him hotly. “Don’t you think we should discuss this with cooler heads?”

His eyes refocused on her and took on an exasperated expression. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” he demanded. “This is what I should have done at the very outset. I was mad to drag you into this life.” He snatched up the cloth and started wringing it out with a savagery that surprised her.

“No, it isn’t, Benedict!” she protested. “Is this the house you told Betsy you had bought for your married lives together?” she asked stiffly.

He froze. “What?”

“She mentioned something about it, but I thought you must have deceived her.”

“I never – ” he broke off. “She never even saw the place!”

Lizzie shook her head angrily. “Well, I don’t want to live there!” she burst out mutinously.

Benedict ground his teeth. “Fine, I’ll sell that house and buy another, then. Tell me what sort of house you do want.”

“I don’t know that I care to live in any house when my husband continues to tour.”

It was at this point that Jack appeared carrying a brown paper parcel done up with string.

“Got your steak,” he said, presenting it with a flourish. “How’s the patient?”