Page 121 of The Boxing Baroness

“He stole it from me, Barnabé,” Sonia said, genuine anguish on her face.

Dominic nodded. “She’s right. I did steal it. Although I’ve wondered why she would have held on to such an incriminating document when—”

“Enough.” The duke’s soft voice cut through the night.

Dominic’s mouth tightened as he strode toward Sin. “You don’t decide what is enough here, Your Grace.” His nostrils flared as he glared at the duke. “I do.” As he neared the caravan, the light from the lantern washed over him.

Marianne stared. It wasn’t even a year since she’d last seen him, but he’d aged a decade. His handsome face, once rounded with too much good food and too many spirits, was gaunt, deep lines graven around his perpetually smiling lips. His eyes were still the color of a summer sky, but they appeared sunken, the skin beneath them papery.

“I told you not to bring anyone but yourself and Marianne, Staunton,” Dominic went on when Sin didn’t speak. “And yet I see Guy and the lovely Mademoiselle Tremblay!” He made a show of glancing around. “Is Elliot lurking around somewhere, too? Maybe a couple of his friends from the Home Office or a handful of well-chosen soldiers?”

“It is only we six,” Marianne said, stepping closer to Dominic and putting herself between the men—both of whom vibrated with leashed violence as they glared at each other.

Dominic smiled. “Thank you, Marianne, for your sterling honesty. That is what Sonia told me, too.” He glanced at the woman and pulled a thoughtful moue. “I can’t believe she’d have any reason to lie, now would she?”

Dominic grinned, looking from Sonia to Marianne to Sin. “Fortunately for me, Sonia is not my only source of information where you are concerned, my dearest Duke.”

Still smiling, Dominic backhanded the duke across the face hard enough to drive him back a step.

Marianne cried out and lunged for him, but one of Dominic’s henchmen raised his gun and aimed it at her.

“Stay where you are, Marianne,” Dominic said in a pleasant voice, still glaring at Sin. “I told you not to bring Elliot.”

Sin wiped blood from the split in his lip. “What have you done to him?”

“I’m afraid dear Elliot might have had a run-in with one of the lawless mobs roaming the countryside.”

“With some help from you, no doubt.”

Dominic clucked his tongue in mock regret. “I’m afraid it is possible that the men I told about Elliot might have an axe or two to grind against our government.”

Sin’s face was expressionless. “And Ben?”

“Ah, poor Ben.” Dominic gave an exaggerated grimace. “Well, I’m afraid I lied.”

“Ben died during the ambush, along with the others, and you somehow happened on his ring and letters,” Sin guessed.

“How clever you are, Staunton—but it has come a bit late, hasn’t it?”

“Why me?”

“Why not you? God knows you have enough money.” He grinned at Marianne. “And if anyone could bend Marianne to his will, it would be you. All I needed was a reason to persuade you to cooperate.” He shrugged. “And since I knew about Ben—”

“You knew because you essentially murdered him.”

Dominic’s smile became strained. “I knew about Ben,” he repeated, “because he and dear Norris had accidentally stumbled onto something far bigger than they. It wasn’t a military secret that I smuggled out with Emil Beauvais—the war was all but over by then, you fool!” He laughed. “Well, so we thought then. I got Beauvais out because his brother paid me a great deal to get him back. You see, Emile and a few well-placed French and British officers decided there was a lot of money to be made while our governments squandered the lives of their citizens. Something far more lucrative than just selling boring military secrets.” He paused and looked from face to face. “What? Nobody can guess?” He gave a snort of disgust and turned to Guy. “Staunton’s ignorance doesn’t surprise me—he was always a candidate for sainthood. But you, Guy, tsk tsk—”

“Why does any of this matter?” Marianne asked wearily.

Dominic cut her an annoyed look. “Art,” he said, ignoring her question. “Paintings, sculptures—even the crown jewels from one of those useless duchies that litter Europe.” His eyes glittered. “The wealth of nations. And it was all there for the taking—if you had the nerve and opportunity to take it, that is.”

“This was never about selling secrets. My brother died so you could protect a ring of thieves,” Sin said flatly.

“Essentially, yes. There are dozens of people involved. Your brother and Norris and that other chap were actually gathering evidence to destroy an operation that was making thousands of pounds for everyone involved. If Beauvais hadn’t finished them off, somebody else—”

Sin lunged at him, but Dominic moved like a blur, the point of his pistol against the duke’s forehead. “Don’t be so predictable,” he said through clenched teeth. “Step. Back.”

Sin backed away, his eyes on fire.