“Yes,” said Hugh, thankful for the rescue. “Perhaps you could tell my mother that I am all right.”
Lark nodded. “Lady Adele mentioned that seeing familiar things may help bring your memories back. I assume that is true of people. Perhaps I could bring some friends here tomorrow. Fletcher and Owen have been out searching for you, too.”
The names were familiar, but Hugh could not connect faces with them. “These are friends of mine?”
“Yes. We all went to Eton together. We often meet at our gentlemen’s club to talk or play cards over whisky and cigars.”
He had a flash of three men sitting around him in a dimly lit room. “I wish I could remember.”
Lark frowned. “Who hit you on the head and why did they dump you here? No offense, Lady Adele, but this part of London has fallen out of fashion.”
“Perhaps that is why he was left here,” said Adele.
“Then why not dump him in St. Giles or another slum? It occurs to me that perhaps whoever hit him on the head intended for him to die.”
“He was unconscious when I found him,” said Adele. “It’s possible whoever abducted him already thought him dead. If his body were left here, someone might find him and make sure he was dealt with correctly. If he were dumped in St. Giles, pickpockets would likely make off with his fine clothes or anything that might identify him. Then he might be given a pauper’s burial and never seen again.”
Lark appeared to turn that over, but Hugh could only feel dread that someone in London wanted him dead. What had he done to inspire such a fate?
“An interesting point, my lady,” said Lark.
“I’ve had a few days to think this over.”
“Was I a bad man?” Hugh asked.
Lark turned to him quickly. “No. Of course not. You are proud and stubborn at times, but I can’t see you ever intentionally harming someone. I can’t think of who would want you dead. But Lady Adele’s theory makes sense. If you were left here, someone might find and identify you, in which case your family would know you are dead. If you’d been left in a less savory neighborhood, there’d be no telling you from any other poor man left for dead in St. Giles. Whoever threw you out of the carriage may have wanted your death recorded.”
Horror crept up Hugh’s throat. “Who would want to kill me?” He felt dizzy at the thought. “Lord, what a mess. How could this be happening?”
“I’m beginning to think you are right,” said Lark. “You should stay here. We don’t want to alert whoever tried to kill you that you are alive, at least not until we have a stronger grasp on this situation. Will you be all right here?”
“I believe so. I am safe and well cared for here.”
“Good.” Lark turned to Adele. “I am grateful that you found him, my lady. I must go chase down Fletcher and Owen. I will try to get them here tomorrow or the day after so that we can devise some kind of plan. And, Hugh, I will let the dowager duchess know you are all right.”
“Thank you,” said Hugh.
*
Adele had longstopped thinking about the rules of propriety between men and women. Society had decided she was unmarriageable, after all, which rendered her essentially invisible. If she were to be discovered alone with a gentleman, there seemed to be few consequences. These rules had long puzzled her, anyway. Men and women were not to be alonetogether if they were not married to each other because one or the other, likely the man, would not be able to restrain himself, was that it? Two people of opposite genders in a room alone could touch each other, she supposed, although, before Hugh, no man since her late fiancé had made overtures.
She hadn’t had many occasions to be alone with a man in her life, but on the few when she was, that man had not tried to compromise her. Good men were generally capable of behaving as gentlemen, or so her own experience told her. She knew bad men took liberties, and she read the scandal sheets as everyone else did when she needed a diversion, so she did not think herself naive when it came to men, but she did not think she should fear them. If she should find herself in a room with a man, why should she fuss about it?
And yet, as she found herself alone in the gold salon with Hugh Baxter after Lord Waring left, she found herself suddenly nervous.
Hugh rubbed his forehead. “I have a name,” he said softly.
“Yes,” said Adele. She felt guilty for mulling over being alone with him when he was still reeling from all the new information he’d just received.
And she had to admit that his name was intimidating her a bit.
“Why do you seem unhappy?” Hugh asked.
Adele looked up and met Hugh’s gaze. “Do you want my honest answer?”
“Yes, of course.”
Adele didn’t see much point in pretense. “Well, now that you know your identity, you will return to your old life soon.”
