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“I want to stay with the booth,” he admitted abruptly. “Turning my hand to anything else just wouldn’t feel right.”

“Good,” replied Frank, looking relieved. “But, Ben,” he hesitated. “I don’t think you’ll do so well with her stashed elsewhere.”

“Of course not!” he snapped, rubbing his face. “I didn’t think things through.”

Jack chortled. “Well, at least you’ll own you put a foot wrong in this regard. It’ll be some consolation to poor old Frank that you don’t know everything there is to know about being the world’s perfect husband.”

Benedict darted a quick glance at Frank who looked a little pained. “I’m far from perfect,” he said gruffly. “As you both know.”

“We’re glad you’re sticking around, Ben,” Frank said sincerely. “Things will be easier now we’re all of one accord when it comes to the old man.” His expression grew grim. “I certainly won’t be making excuses for him now I know the trick he served me over Maggie. I’ll be the first to run him off if he turns up again.”

The brothers lapsed into silence a moment as they contemplated the prospect of their father.

“Though for my part,” said Jack, sticking out his chin. “I don’t think our mother was much better, if you look at how she left you, Ben.”

Benedict bristled and saw the warning look Frank sent to their younger brother. Breathing in, then out again, he let his idealized picture of his mother slowly fade away. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “No, I suppose she wasn’t.”

*

It had been a strange sort of day, all told. Benedict was making his way toward the Wonderous Females tent when he spied Sebastian in the distance. Quickening his pace, he soon saw the dog was, as usual, on his mistress’s heels.

Lizzie was sandwiched between her redheaded friend and Connie Brown. They seemed to be headed back in the general direction of their own tent, though taking a rather circuitous route. Connie said something and the redheaded threw back her head to laugh uproariously.

Benedict caught up with them just as they were approaching their tent.

“Oh, Benedict!” Lizzie said, pitching forward and almost barreling into him. He closed his arms around her automatically and thought he got a whiff of gin. “I said he’d be waiting for me, didn’t I?” she asked of the other two, attempting to turn about and nearly tripping over Benedict’s feet. He tightened his grip on her waist to steady her.

Connie guffawed. “We’ve been celebratin’,” she said with a defiant air. “And wishing our dear Lizzie all the best, until we reunite again.”

Benedict glanced back down at Lizzie’s vacant smile. Her eye looked none the worst, for all it had turned a deeper purple. “Been enjoying yourself, have you?” he asked, quirking a brow at her.

Lizzie tipped her head back. “I have,” she sighed. “Connie bought us such a lovely pitcher of fruit punch.”

“Two pitchers,” the redhead corrected her.

Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Did we drink two whole pitchers?” she marveled.

“Goes down awful easy, don’t it?” Connie cocked a knowing look at Benedict. “You’d best take your leave of us now, Lizzie girl. That man of yours will be wanting to drag you off for your supper.”

“What about packing up the tent?” Lizzie asked, but Connie seized hold of her and kissed her cheek. “I’ve already hired a couple of burly hands to see to it. Until next time. Be off with you.”

Niamh kissed her other cheek. “Take care of yourself, Lizzie darlin’. We’ll soon be all back together.”

Benedict led a tottering Lizzie away. “We’d better get something substantial inside your stomach,” he remarked wryly. “Or you’ll be feeling the worst for it in the morning, and we’ve an early start.”

Lizzie was hanging off his arm and humming a tune. Suddenly she came to a standstill. “Where’s Sebastian?” she remarked looking around. “Oh, there he is.”

Benedict steered her toward the food stands. She had a potato with minced meat and gravy, and they made their way back to the wagon with a meandering step. She ate most of her food and then set down the last of it for Sebastian to finish off. Benedict handed her up into the wagon, as she was yawning her head off.

“I’ll bring the water in for you to wash as soon as it’s ready.” She nodded, removing her bonnet and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“There’s just one thing I can’t figure out,” she said, frowning with concentration.

“What’s that?”

“What kind of a marriage did your grandmother and grandfather have?”

Benedict gazed back at her a moment. “A rotten one,” he answered after a pause.