took all afternoon.”
“I’m on a case, Archer.” Hazlit finished drying off, then crossed the room to the wardrobe where evening attire had been left waiting for him. “Are you going out tonight?”
“Lady Abby is dining at home, so no. I think I’ve made some progress with Allard’s books, though.” He got up and started poking through the tray on the bureau. “Which case has you tooling around Mayfair all afternoon?”
“Not tooling around, making a thorough search of a lady’s chambers. I’m on the Windham case.” He assembled his evening finery as he spoke, though he’d rather be lounging around the house tonight, letting Archer beat him at cards.
“I thought the housekeeper was innocent.” Archer gave him a curious look. “Moreland’s cub married her, didn’t he?”
“Last year’s news, Archer. That was Gayle Windham, Earl of Westhaven, and yes, she’s his countess now. Stop being coy. What do you want to know?”
“You don’t need all afternoon to search a lady’s chambers.” Arthur tossed a cuff link in the air, then another and another until he was juggling four. “What are you about, Benjamin?”
“One learns a lot by inspecting a person’s habitat.” He pulled on smalls, trousers, and stockings while Archer continued to play with the cuff links.
“What did you learn?”
“I’m not sure.” The shirt was made for him, which meant it was cut loosely—contrary to current fashion, but comfortable. “I learned that she’s a lady.”
“You had doubts?” Archer caught each cuff link in succession and dumped two back into the tray.
“I try not to make assumptions.” But that hair… that wide, lovely mouth, that generous bosom, and those sweet female curves… And more than all of that, her bewildered smile when she beheld a tame bunch of flowers. “She runs a decent household, takes a genuine interest in her staff, donates both time and coin to charity, and is devoted to her family.”
She was also a voracious reader—everything from agricultural pamphlets on the reproductive habits of swine to financial treatises and lurid novels.
Archer approached with a gold cuff link, which Hazlit allowed him to fasten on the right shirt cuff. “You sound puzzled, Benjamin. Her father is a duke. Why wouldn’t she behave in accordance with the standards applicable to a duchess?” He slipped the second cuff link through the fabric of the left cuff then peered at Hazlit closely. “Or the standards of a countess?”
“As to that…” Leave it to Archer to anticipate the difficult subjects. “You might hear I’m interested in the lady in a matrimonial sense.”
Archer’s handsome face creased into a genuine, warmhearted smile. The other kind—the calculating variety—was often in evidence, making this rare sighting all the more unusual. “About time you got your priorities straight.”
“I am not interested in her.”
The smile went out like a snuffed candle. “You have two sisters, Benjamin. Two sisters who prior to their marriages were ill-used by unfeeling brutes, and that ought to…”
He put a hand over Archer’s mouth. “I am not toying with a lady’s affections, so desist, Sister Mary Portmaine. Magdalene Windham has not been entirely honest with me, and I require a certain proximity to ascertain why that is and what to do as a result.”
It sounded so rational, his almighty plan. It did not explain kisses in the rose arbor, or trespassing on the woman’s privacy to linger in her boudoir, touching her clothing, learning the exact size of her bed and the number of pillows adorning it.
Or the particular delight he felt upon hearing she thought his somewhat prominent nose handsome.
Archer ambled over to the bureau. “Does she know you’re just playacting?”
“She compared me to Mr. Kean.” While Archer sorted through the tray on the bureau, Hazlit withdrew a starched cravat from the wardrobe and started tying it into a simple knot.
“For God’s
“I’m on a case, Archer.” Hazlit finished drying off, then crossed the room to the wardrobe where evening attire had been left waiting for him. “Are you going out tonight?”
“Lady Abby is dining at home, so no. I think I’ve made some progress with Allard’s books, though.” He got up and started poking through the tray on the bureau. “Which case has you tooling around Mayfair all afternoon?”
“Not tooling around, making a thorough search of a lady’s chambers. I’m on the Windham case.” He assembled his evening finery as he spoke, though he’d rather be lounging around the house tonight, letting Archer beat him at cards.
“I thought the housekeeper was innocent.” Archer gave him a curious look. “Moreland’s cub married her, didn’t he?”
“Last year’s news, Archer. That was Gayle Windham, Earl of Westhaven, and yes, she’s his countess now. Stop being coy. What do you want to know?”
“You don’t need all afternoon to search a lady’s chambers.” Arthur tossed a cuff link in the air, then another and another until he was juggling four. “What are you about, Benjamin?”
“One learns a lot by inspecting a person’s habitat.” He pulled on smalls, trousers, and stockings while Archer continued to play with the cuff links.
“What did you learn?”
“I’m not sure.” The shirt was made for him, which meant it was cut loosely—contrary to current fashion, but comfortable. “I learned that she’s a lady.”
“You had doubts?” Archer caught each cuff link in succession and dumped two back into the tray.
“I try not to make assumptions.” But that hair… that wide, lovely mouth, that generous bosom, and those sweet female curves… And more than all of that, her bewildered smile when she beheld a tame bunch of flowers. “She runs a decent household, takes a genuine interest in her staff, donates both time and coin to charity, and is devoted to her family.”
She was also a voracious reader—everything from agricultural pamphlets on the reproductive habits of swine to financial treatises and lurid novels.
Archer approached with a gold cuff link, which Hazlit allowed him to fasten on the right shirt cuff. “You sound puzzled, Benjamin. Her father is a duke. Why wouldn’t she behave in accordance with the standards applicable to a duchess?” He slipped the second cuff link through the fabric of the left cuff then peered at Hazlit closely. “Or the standards of a countess?”
“As to that…” Leave it to Archer to anticipate the difficult subjects. “You might hear I’m interested in the lady in a matrimonial sense.”
Archer’s handsome face creased into a genuine, warmhearted smile. The other kind—the calculating variety—was often in evidence, making this rare sighting all the more unusual. “About time you got your priorities straight.”
“I am not interested in her.”
The smile went out like a snuffed candle. “You have two sisters, Benjamin. Two sisters who prior to their marriages were ill-used by unfeeling brutes, and that ought to…”
He put a hand over Archer’s mouth. “I am not toying with a lady’s affections, so desist, Sister Mary Portmaine. Magdalene Windham has not been entirely honest with me, and I require a certain proximity to ascertain why that is and what to do as a result.”
It sounded so rational, his almighty plan. It did not explain kisses in the rose arbor, or trespassing on the woman’s privacy to linger in her boudoir, touching her clothing, learning the exact size of her bed and the number of pillows adorning it.
Or the particular delight he felt upon hearing she thought his somewhat prominent nose handsome.
Archer ambled over to the bureau. “Does she know you’re just playacting?”
“She compared me to Mr. Kean.” While Archer sorted through the tray on the bureau, Hazlit withdrew a starched cravat from the wardrobe and started tying it into a simple knot.
“For God’s
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