“I did not. William told me a boy brought it to the kitchen door, though he thought it was from Darius. But you’re telling me you didn’t send it?”

“I did not,” Nick said, his hand moving over her back again. “Who knew you were going to the park, Leah?” His tone was curious and relaxed, but inside his skin, he felt the urge to bellow with rage. Leah’s disclosure eliminated any possibility the attack had been random mischief.

“Emily knew, Darius, and my lady’s maid, who reports directly to Wilton. Anybody those people talked to, you, whomever you told, and Lady Della. I’m always strolling there. It’s the only place where I can go and think in peace.”

“Drink your tea,” Nick said, downing his at one gulp. “I cannot like this, Leah. It implies somebody in your own household colluded to have you attacked. I don’t want to let you go back to Wilton’s household.”

Her father might be behind the attack, a notion that acquainted Nick with the sensation of his blood running cold.

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“Leah, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Those men told me that where I was going I’d be taught respect, because the rough trade was always eager for haughty bitches like me, even if I was slightly used goods.”

Nick’s voice was much steadier than he felt. “I want to hold you, but I also want to treat the bruise on your jaw. I’m sure there’s ice and arnica waiting just outside the door, and you will bruise less and hurt less if we see to you now.”

“All right.”

“There’s my girl.” Nick gave her an approving nod—though she wasn’t his girl, wasn’t his anything, yet—and rose to fetch the ice. “If you’d sit on the table? You are lucky,” Nick said as he hunkered before her a moment later. He had the towel over his shoulder, the bowl of ice in his hand. “This could have easily laid you open.”

He blotted some cold water on a corner of the towel and dabbed carefully at her chin. “You’re going to be sore. The bruise is rising from here”—he grazed the point of her chin with his finger—“to here, and then back along your jaw to here.”

“Soft food,” Leah said. “Soups, fresh bread and butter, and willow-bark tea for the ache.”

“And ice,” Nick reminded her, gently applying the freezing towel to her jaw. He rose and stood beside her so she could lean against his hip while he held the ice against her face. “I am sorry,” Nick said. “So sorry, Leah.”

“You didn’t cause this.”

“We will find out who did. That’s a promise.”

A knock on the door interrupted his assurances but didn’t move Nick from his post. “Enter.”

Benjamin Hazlit walked in, taking in the scene with a frown. “I beg your pardon, Reston.” His dark gaze shifted to Leah. “Lady Leah, I presume?”

“Hazlit.” Nick didn’t move away from Leah. “I am pleased to see you.”

Hazlit smiled sardonically. “And astonished, no doubt. While I will invariably ignore a summons, I will honor the occasional request, particularly when violence to innocent ladies is involved. How are you, Lady Leah?”

“I have all of one bruise,” Leah reported. “Nicholas, would you introduce us?”

“My apologies.” He would have danced on his head and spit pennies had she 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 resolve to keep his wayward embraces to himself.

Still, he had to be sure.

“You were going to refuse me,” he said, “but you won’t now—will you?”

“My lord.” Nick’s butler tapped on the door but did not open it. “Lord Amherst and the Honorable Mr. Darius Lindsey, come to call.”