His coach pulled in close to where it had parked previously, close enough to reach the Lyon’s Den easily, but not directly before the gaming hell. His coachman was aware of Benjamin’s religious upbringing and would not expose him to unnecessary criticism. He had approached the entrance on foot, expecting to greet Titan at the door.
“My lord,” the bouncer known as ‘Theseus’ said as he bowed. “May I assist you, sir?”
“I simply wanted permission to search the grounds,” Benjamin explained.
“Still looking for clues regarding who shot Lord Duncan?” the man asked. “The mistress and Titan questioned us all when the coat was found.”
“Should I ask for Titan’s permission?” Benjamin inquired, not wishing to discuss his personal obsession with the case.
“Titan is around on the right side in the garden, sir. Do you know the way?”
Benjamin nodded his affirmation. “Sat outside several times on one of the benches when I tended to Lord Duncan. Might I go around without an escort? This is, after all, Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s land.”
“You are welcomed here, sir. I do not expect you to be the type to steal something from the kitchen,” Theseus said with a chuckle.
On his way to the garden, Benjamin took his time, circling the trees marking the borders of the property. Walking forth and back several times. Looking behind and under shrubbery. He finally turned the corner of the former Lyon’s Gate Manor and was initially surprised to hear the rattle of dishes, as well as voices speaking over each other. “The kitchen,” he murmured to remind himself. When staying at the Lyon’s Den with Duncan, he had customarily exited through the rear door to access the garden. Whenever he had searched the grounds previously or sat in peace, the kitchen door had been closed.
Ignoring the chaos within the kitchen, Benjamin slowed his search. He attempted to imagine how Duncan’s shooter might have pulled the coat from his shoulders, pulling at the button used as a closure, rather than for decoration. He concentrated on how the coat fitted the man.
Originally, Benjamin had thought the man was decked out as a gentleman, more of the nature of those who wore their coats so tight they could barely move, but, now, in his mind’s eye, Benjamin saw what Hartley had described. The cut of the coat had been slimmer, not box-like, as they all had initially recalled when speaking of Duncan’s attacker. The idea of his mistake had Benjamin pausing to reevaluate what else he must have misjudged, but before he could settle what he knew and did not know of the man, he heard voices—those of a man and a woman.
The man was assuredly Titan, and, like it or not, Benjamin recognized the woman, as well. He stood perfectly still and swallowed his loss before he had truly known success. “It all makes sense now,” his mind announced. “The reason she was outside of the Lyon’s Den the last time you encountered her was Titan. And that is why she denied your overtures.”
For the briefest of seconds, he thought to turn and leave without either Titan or Miss Whitchurch knowing of his presence, but he had come to the Lyon’s Den to search for clues to lead him to Duncan’s attacker, and he would not abandon his task. He could greet the woman and move on with his search.
“My thoughts are customarily more organized,” she said.
Benjamin had not heard the rest of her comment for there was a loud burst of laughter coming from the kitchen followed by an equally noisy crash of several pieces of cookware. Nevertheless, he steppedinto the opening of the pathway. He attempted to disguise the bit of hurt closing his throat, but he doubted he was successful. “Pardon. Theseus said I might search the area around the Den. I am still looking for clues to Lord Duncan’s shooting. Am I interrupting?”
Titan smiled and stood to bow. “You are always welcome at the Lyon’s Den, Lord Thompson.”
The lady had not risen, and then the reason for her not presenting him a curtsey became crystal clear. There was a child napping in her lap. Benjamin could not quite swallow this new reality. Did the child belong to Titan? Had he interrupted a “family” moment?
“May I present…” Titan continued without notice of how pale the lady had turned, though Benjamin had.
“Miss Whitchurch and I are already speaking acquaintances,” Benjamin had explained. His eyes never left the woman’s face, and he noted the slight flinch of her shoulders at his tone.
“I was not aware,” Titan said, but his tone, too, had changed. A large question lurked beneath the words.
Miss Whitchurch ignored Benjamin’s posturing. She said with all the authority of a duchess, “I shan’t keep either of you longer than necessary. If you could tell me, sir, if you were the one who recommended an inn to my sister, I would be much obliged to know the name of the establishment.”
The lady had ignored Benjamin completely; therefore, he looked on as Titan addressed Miss Whitchurch’s request. “If it is the same girl as I believe her to be, I sent her to The Red Rooster, near the docks along the Thames. I am not one who can permit a woman to suffer when a man of supposed quality has turned a blind eye to her suffering.”
Miss Whitchurch prepared to stand. “Thank you kindly, sir. I apologize for imposing on you.” She lifted the child and placed it in a sling to carry it close to her body, just as Benjamin had viewed other women upon his estate do often. He had never considered how heavya child might be when held thusly, but he again knew respect for the woman he had once desired. The child fussed a bit, but it settled against her and quieted.
As he studied her, in Benjamin’s opinion, she did not appear to be a woman who had recently given birth to a child. His “medical” eyes said the child was a month or so old, and Miss Whitchurch’s bust line was still too small to have given birth. Something about this scene was not what he had initially suspected.
Titan must have observed Benjamin’s interest in the woman. He quickly said, “I am glad to be of service, miss. I will offer a prayer that your search is successful.” To Benjamin, he said, “Should I ask several of my men to assist you, my lord?”
“No, thank you. Just another of my whims. I despise when I do not tie all the strings in a knot,” Benjamin replied.
“Just as it should be, my lord,” Titan remarked as he walked away, leaving Benjamin alone with the woman who haunted his dreams.
“Are you well, Miss Whitchurch?” he asked into the awkward silence surrounding them.
“Do I not look well, my lord?” she countered as she picked up the small basket she carried and started around him.
Benjamin caught her arm and was about to present her a set-down, but when she turned, he noted how tears had formed in her eyes. Instead, he said, “Permit me to assist you, Miss Whitchurch. Whatever it is that plagues you, I am willing to extend a hand of support, just as would my father, and as likely would your own father.”
