“These two just want to talk.” The proprietress drawled out the last word like an indictment. “They’re payin’, so treat ’em sweet, like you do.”
Patrice coquettishly bobbed his head between his two visitors before his attention fixed on Diana. No one who traded in sensuality could ignore beauty like hers. The fool didn’t even attempt to conceal the lust from his stare as he ogled her.
Ian stepped between them to obstruct Patrice’s view of her. The bolt of heat that rose on the back of his neck appalled him.
“You must tell us about your evening with Mr. Holt,” Ian said. “He still hasn’t woken from the stupor you found him in this morning.”
“I know nothing about it.”
“Now that can’t be right,” Ian countered in a low voice. “You were the last person to see him before he became ill.”
Patrice leaned around Ian to catch Diana’s eye. “I didn’t do anything.”
Ian defensively tilted his body, but Patrice ducked around him to gawk at Diana’s white ruffled silk. “That looks a hell of a lot like a wedding gown.”
“Jared is the groom.” Diana flashed a demure smile. “We must find out what happened so we can help him heal as quickly as possible. Will you help us?”
Patrice gave a slow nod.
“Do you recall when Jared arrived last night?” she asked.
Patrice shook his head. “Not exactly. It was late, gone after midnight.”
Diana’s honeyed approach had thawed some of Patrice’s reserve, but Ian refused to surrender control of the investigation. “What was his condition when he arrived?” he asked.
“Shattered,” Patrice replied. “His eyes were all black. Had the same blank look as the coves who visit the Angel’s Lounge.” An infamous opium den near Covent Garden.
“Did he eat or drink anything here?” Diana inquired.
“Nothing.”
“So you knew he was well off his head.” Ian’s voice carried a threatening edge.
Patrice glanced at Diana, but Ian sidled between them and pointed to his cheek. “Eyes here. What happened next?”
“I—I started to remove Jared’s clothes. Could barely understand a thing he said,” Patrice recounted. “Then he got all tetchy, insisted on having his lady join us.”
“And did she?”
As steady as Diana’s voice sounded, Ian didn’t miss the blush rising on her cheeks. When he took a protective step closer to her, and her flush deepened, prickling heat resurfaced along his skin.
“Did she join you?” Diana prompted.
Patrice glanced nervously between them. “I—I ducked down the hall to check if Ambrosia was free, but by the time I’d brought her back here, Jared was asleep. I couldn’t wake him. Thought it was the drink, catching up with him.”
“Unfortunately for Jared, it wasn’t just drink.” Ian loomed over Patrice to force him to retreat to the wall. “Who would have wanted to harm my brother?”
“I don’t know,” Patrice bleated.
Ian wished Diana had stayed in the carriage. They were running short on time, but he was reluctant to get rough with the man. He resorted to force only to defend himself and his people. And Patrice was clearly weaker. It wouldn’t be a fair fight; even threatening the wretch was distasteful.
“I swear I know nothing,” Patrice whispered. “If I did, I’dtell you.”
“Give me a name.” Ian kept his voice low. “And then I won’t have to worry it was you.”
“If I could, I would! Jared was half out of his head the moment he walked in the door. And even if he hadn’t been, we don’t do a lot of talking here!”
“Of course you don’t.” Diana popped up between them. She extended her hand to offer Patrice a shilling, which he nabbed quickly.
