asked it, though how the civilities would add to the situation, he did not know or care. “Lady Leah Lindsey, may I make known to you the Honorable Benjamin Hazlit. Benjamin, Lady Leah.”
“A pleasure.” Hazlit bowed. “Even under the circumstances.”
“Likewise.”
“I took the liberty of intruding on Reston’s home because I wanted to discuss matters before your memory of them has faded.” He glanced at Nick, who gave tacit assent to an interview. “May I be seated?”
“Of course. Nick?”
“Five more minutes,” Nick replied, moving the ice a little against her jaw as he glanced at the clock. “Help yourself to tea, Benjamin, and we ordered a late lunch, but the lady wasn’t equal to that challenge. It will go to waste otherwise, and I’ve graced your table often enough.”
“My breakfast table,” Hazlit allowed, pouring himself tea. “Lady Leah? Can you tell me what happened?”
He let her get through one telling of the entire story, addressing her need to put the sorry business into words, then he went back and began to color in the gaps with her. Did her attackers have any accent? Did she notice any particular scents? Did they address each other as familiars or by name?
On and on he questioned, drawing from her things she no doubt hadn’t realized she knew. He’d begun making notes, and somewhere during the interview, Nick had brought a rocking chair for Leah and lowered himself to the arm of the sofa so he didn’t quite sit beside her but remained propped near at hand, keeping silent watch.
In truth, Hazlit’s arrival was an unlooked-for blessing, because his calm, methodical questioning was creating results Nick, in his anger and upset, could not have.
“And what did you see of the coach?”
“Was there a tiger holding the leaders?”
“Were the wheels painted any particular color?”
Hazlit went on in the same fashion then shifted to put his questions to Nick, who was surprised at what he knew but hadn’t been aware of: how tall the men had been, their ages, the color of their clothing, hair, eyes. The type of boots they’d worn, the color and condition of the horses pulling the unmarked coach.
“So what do you think, Hazlit?” Nick asked almost two hours later.
“These were not common thugs,” Hazlit said. “Not just fellows hired for a morning’s lark. You’re dealing with somebody of means, who can keep a matched team of decent coach horses, frequent the more expenses houses of vice enough to know which ones are procuring, and use not just two, but five men to subdue a single woman.”
“Wilton,” Nick hazarded. “Or Hellerington.”
“We’ll start there,” Hazlit agreed, “but it shouldn’t be hard to find somebody who saw something, then too…”
“Yes?” Leah prompted.
“I always have somebody watching the park,” Hazlit said with a modest shrug. “A great deal goes on there, right under the nose of Polite Society, that you wouldn’t suspect. Lovers meet, illicit notes are passed, purses are snatched, crimes negotiated, blackmail payments made. It’s a busy place and worth keeping an eye on.”
Nick regarded his discreet investigator with no little respect. “You scare me, and I’m glad you’re not my enemy.”
Hazlit looked Nick up and down. “I’m glad we are not competing for the favors of the lady,” Hazlit remarked, “for I rather enjoy having my teeth and the ability to walk upright. I’ll report back as soon as I know something. Lady Leah.” When he’d bowed his farewell to her and left them alone, Nick hunkered on the low table and faced Leah, his splayed legs falling outside of hers.
“He’s a useful fellow to know,” Nick said, “and I like him.”
“I did too, but I think you have the right of it. His enemies had better run fast and far, and hide well.”
“You want to run and hide too,” Nick said, only to have her gaze slide away from his. “Why? I want only to keep you safe.”
“I was going to refuse your proposal today.” She smoothed the pleats of her walking dress down but could not hide the slight tremor in her hand. “I want a real marriage, Nick, not some polite caricature of the institution. I want all the foolish, romantic, impractical things I knew five years ago were not ever going to be mine.”
“They aren’t foolish, and you deserve them.”
He could be patient and reasonable, despite the panic her words set off in his gut, because she’d used the past tense in a conditional sense. She had been going to refuse his proposal, and this alone gave him the