Page 50 of The Boxing Baroness

She smirked at his acerbic tone, clearly pleased to have drawn a rise from him. “So, Elliot will never be a lord, then?”

“Not unless his three elder brothers and four nephews predecease him.”

“He has no title and he’s poor.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he has a job.”

“He told you that?”

She cut him a strange look. “How else would I know?”

For some reason it surprised him to think of Elliot and this woman exchanging personal information. Elliot was not exactly the most forthcoming of men. But the other man spent almost as much time with Marianne as Sin had over the last few weeks. Could it be that Elliot was not untouched by Marianne’s rough but appealing brand of charm?

Sin found he did not care for that thought. And he cared for that thought even less. It was no affair of his what, if anything, Elliot and this woman got up to.

“You met him at school?”

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“Elliot, or Smithy, rather—I asked if you met him at school.”

“Yes.”

“He was friends with you, Guy, and Dominic.”

He turned to look down at her, but she was staring straight ahead. “How did you know I was friends with Strickland?”

“Why?” she shot back. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“It is not a secret,” he said, exasperated by her sarcasm. “I’m just surprised you know. Did Strickland tell you?”

“Yes. He mentioned you.” The way her mouth curled, Sin could guess what his erstwhile friend had probably said. “But he said you’d had a falling out.” She paused, clearly hoping he would expand on her knowledge.

“Did he tell you what it was about?” Sin asked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“He said you were self-righteous and judgmental and always trying to run his life. And that you got angry when he wouldn’t let you.”

Sin just bet he’d said something like that. Dominic would have known that the truth would not have pleased the woman beside him.

When he didn’t speak, she went on. “He said you’d been close—you two and three others. That you went by some name in school.”

“The Brotherhood.”

She laughed.

“Yes, it does sound rather idiotic,” Sin admitted. “But do keep in mind that other boys called us that—and they were only ten when they coined the name.”

“So that’s you, Smithy, Guy, Dominic—and who else?”

“A man named David Norris.”

“Hmm, David Norris. Am I going to need to find a position for him in my uncle’s circus, too, Your Grace?”

“David is dead.”

She glanced up at him, her brow puckered. “I’m sorry. The war?”