retracing my steps, quizzing the fellows in the mews, asking my friends and neighbors and family if they’ve seen my purse, and turning my house upside down to find what is precious to me. I feel like an idiot for losing it.”
He gave her another considering look then hunched forward, forearms on his thighs. “You might have started there. You might have tried to gain my sympathy before you bludgeoned me with common law.”
“And leave your pride a little fig leaf?”
“Maybe a not too little fig leaf. Maybe a fig bush.”
She smiled at his attempt at humor, though it could be interpreted vulgarly, if one had such a turn of mind.
“Mr. Hazlit, won’t you please, please help me find my reticule? It is one of my dearest possessions. I feel horrid for having lost track of it, and I’m too embarrassed to prevail upon anybody else but you to aid me in my hour of need.” She turned her best swain-slaying gaze on him in the moonlight, the look Val had told her never to use on his friends. For good measure, she let a little sincerity into her eyes, because she’d spoken nothing but the truth.
“God help me.” Hazlit scrubbed a hand over his face. “Stick to quoting the law with me, please. I might have a prayer of retaining my wits.”
She dropped the pleading expression. “You’ll keep our bargain, then?”
“I will make an attempt to find this little purse of yours, but there are no guarantees in my work, Miss Windham. Let’s put a limit on the investigation—say, four weeks. If I haven’t found the thing by then, I’ll refund half your money.”
“You needn’t.” She rose, relieved to have her business concluded. “I can spare it, and this is important to me.”
“Where are you going?” He rose, as well, as manners required. But Maggie had the sense he was also just too… primordial to let a woman go off on her own in the moonlight.
“I’m going back to the ballroom. We’ve been out here quite long enough, unless you’re again trying to wiggle out of your obligations?”
“No need to be nasty.” He came closer and winged his arm at her. “We’ve had our bit of air, but you’ve yet to tell me anything that would aid me in attaining your goal. What does this reticule look like? Who has seen you with it? Where did you acquire it? When did you last have it?”
“All of that?”
“That and more if it’s so precious to you,” he said, leading her back toward the more-traveled paths. “That is just a start. I will want to establish who had access to the thing, what valuables it contained, and who might have been motivated to steal it.”
“ Steal? ” She went still, dropping his arm, for this possibility honestly hadn’t occurred to her. She realized, as he replaced her hand on his arm, that she’d held the thought of theft away from her awareness, an unacknowledged fear. “You think somebody would steal a little pin money? People are hung for stealing a few coins, Mr. Hazlit, and transported on those awful ships, and… you think it was a thief?”
“You clearly do not.”
She was going to let him know in no uncertain terms that no, she could not have been victimized by a thief. She was too careful, too smart. She’d hired only staff with the best references, she seldom had visitors, and such a thing was utterly…
“I did not reach that conclusion. I don’t want to.”
Voices came to them from up the path. A woman laughing a little too gaily, drunk, perhaps. Another woman making an equally bright rejoinder, and then a man’s voice, or two men’s.
“Come.” Hazlit drew back into the foliage, his hand around Maggie’s wrist. He stepped behind a tree and drew her to stand before him, his legs on either side of hers as he leaned back against the tree.
“Remain still; breathe naturally,” he whispered right in her ear, very, very quietly. She did as he suggested, not wanting to be found in the darkness with him by people too inebriated to observe a little
He gave her another considering look then hunched forward, forearms on his thighs. “You might have started there. You might have tried to gain my sympathy before you bludgeoned me with common law.”
“And leave your pride a little fig leaf?”
“Maybe a not too little fig leaf. Maybe a fig bush.”
She smiled at his attempt at humor, though it could be interpreted vulgarly, if one had such a turn of mind.
“Mr. Hazlit, won’t you please, please help me find my reticule? It is one of my dearest possessions. I feel horrid for having lost track of it, and I’m too embarrassed to prevail upon anybody else but you to aid me in my hour of need.” She turned her best swain-slaying gaze on him in the moonlight, the look Val had told her never to use on his friends. For good measure, she let a little sincerity into her eyes, because she’d spoken nothing but the truth.
“God help me.” Hazlit scrubbed a hand over his face. “Stick to quoting the law with me, please. I might have a prayer of retaining my wits.”
She dropped the pleading expression. “You’ll keep our bargain, then?”
“I will make an attempt to find this little purse of yours, but there are no guarantees in my work, Miss Windham. Let’s put a limit on the investigation—say, four weeks. If I haven’t found the thing by then, I’ll refund half your money.”
“You needn’t.” She rose, relieved to have her business concluded. “I can spare it, and this is important to me.”
“Where are you going?” He rose, as well, as manners required. But Maggie had the sense he was also just too… primordial to let a woman go off on her own in the moonlight.
“I’m going back to the ballroom. We’ve been out here quite long enough, unless you’re again trying to wiggle out of your obligations?”
“No need to be nasty.” He came closer and winged his arm at her. “We’ve had our bit of air, but you’ve yet to tell me anything that would aid me in attaining your goal. What does this reticule look like? Who has seen you with it? Where did you acquire it? When did you last have it?”
“All of that?”
“That and more if it’s so precious to you,” he said, leading her back toward the more-traveled paths. “That is just a start. I will want to establish who had access to the thing, what valuables it contained, and who might have been motivated to steal it.”
“ Steal? ” She went still, dropping his arm, for this possibility honestly hadn’t occurred to her. She realized, as he replaced her hand on his arm, that she’d held the thought of theft away from her awareness, an unacknowledged fear. “You think somebody would steal a little pin money? People are hung for stealing a few coins, Mr. Hazlit, and transported on those awful ships, and… you think it was a thief?”
“You clearly do not.”
She was going to let him know in no uncertain terms that no, she could not have been victimized by a thief. She was too careful, too smart. She’d hired only staff with the best references, she seldom had visitors, and such a thing was utterly…
“I did not reach that conclusion. I don’t want to.”
Voices came to them from up the path. A woman laughing a little too gaily, drunk, perhaps. Another woman making an equally bright rejoinder, and then a man’s voice, or two men’s.
“Come.” Hazlit drew back into the foliage, his hand around Maggie’s wrist. He stepped behind a tree and drew her to stand before him, his legs on either side of hers as he leaned back against the tree.
“Remain still; breathe naturally,” he whispered right in her ear, very, very quietly. She did as he suggested, not wanting to be found in the darkness with him by people too inebriated to observe a little
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