“I think I’ve made her acquaintance.” Conrad reined in Mr. Khan before the other could meander. “Is she dark-haired and slender, with remarkable violet eyes?”
“No, you’ve mixed her up with Lady Gigi, Lord Ethan’s younger sister.”
“My mistake,” Conrad said smoothly. “I saw Lady Gigi in the square the other day, and she reminded me of someone I met in London.”
“It is possible that you met our Lady Gigi during the London Season, for she is a popular debutante,” Mr. Khan said proudly. “She wintered here at her brother’s house and is a friend of the village. She has helped Miss Letty to refurbish her spa…but then again, you know about the spa, don’t you?”
The astute gleam behind Mr. Khan’s spectacles reminded Conrad that while affable, Chuddumites were not ignorant bumpkins, and it would behoove him to remember that fact.
“News travels fast, I see,” he said easily. “It’s true that I hoped to purchase the spa, but as Miss Letty informed me that she has no interest in selling, I shall have to seek out another venture.”
“It is for the best,” Mr. Khan agreed. “The success of the spa means a great deal to our village. With the grand reopening less than two weeks away, we expect an influx of visitors that will benefit everyone in Chuddums. I, myself, have restocked on stationery and plan to make extra batches of sweets.”
“An excellent idea, I’m sure.” Conrad racked his brain for a covert way to ascertain Gigi’s routine. “As a fellow Londoner, I should like to introduce myself to the Harringtons. Are they in the village much?”
“Xenia Harrington does the rounds on Mondays and Thursdays and always makes a stop here,” Mr. Khan said proudly.
Goddammit. How do I ask about Gigi without being obvious?
“And, er, the rest of the family?”
“Lord Ethan often accompanies his wife. Being newlyweds, they don’t like to be apart, eh?” Mr. Khan winked. “The rest of the Harringtons—Lord Ethan’s siblings and parents—join them from time to time, most often for tea at the Leaning House.”
Conrad could hardly barge in on the family tea and ask to speak to Gigi. After further probing failed to yield results, he thanked Mr. Khan for the hospitality, purchased several packets of sweets, and left the shop. He exited the square, thinking a walk might clear his head. He hadn’t gone far when jeering voices snagged his attention.
“Stop sniveling, you sorry scrap. We ain’t barely started with you.”
Hastening his pace, Conrad followed the voices to a back lane. A small, sandy-haired boy stood shaking against a brick wall. He had a shiner over his left eye. His smart woolen jacket and trousers were streaked with dirt, and his fashionable felt hat lay on the ground between him and the brutish, pug-nosed boy facing him. The leader was flanked by two other bullies—one blond, the other ginger-haired.
“This is what you get for being a tattle-tale,” the ginger-haired bully spat.
“I d-didn’t tattle,” the boy protested.
“Then ’ow did the schoolmaster know that you’ve been giving us your lunch, eh?” the leader demanded.
“I d-didn’t say anything, I swear?—”
“Liar, liar, fancy pants on fire,” the blond bully taunted.
“Let’s teach this runt a lesson.”
When Pug Nose stomped on the victim’s hat, grinding it into the dirt, Conrad’s nape burned. He stalked over, grabbing the surprised leader by the scruff.
“Pick on someone your own size,” Conrad said coldly.
“Unhand me, you bastard,” the bully yelled. “Help me, lads!”
The other two charged. Skills honed from years of prizefighting kicked in, and in a matter of moments, the three lay in a groaning heap.
“Leave this boy alone, or it will be worse for you next time,” Conrad warned. “Now get out of here.”
The bullies limped away.
Conrad turned to the boy, who was staring at him, one eye bright blue, the other swelled shut. When a tear trickled down the lad’s freckled cheek, he wiped it away with his sleeve.
“You all right, lad?” Conrad asked.
The boy shook his head, snot running from his nose.
