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“What were you doing in such a rough part of town?”
He looked away. “It’s not an appropriate topic of conversation.”
“Ah, so you were looking for a bit ’o muslin for the evening.”
“You shouldn’t know of such things,” he scolded with a muffled laugh.
“I’m not one of your fancy ladies of quality, my lord.”
“Hart,” he reminded her.
“Yes, and Hart, you are procrastinating. Tell me the rest of the story.”
“Middleton and I were robbed by six men. We gave it a valiant fight but we were outnumbered. We both took a terrible beating and we’re lucky to be alive today.”
“Did you learn anything from that beating?”
“Yes, never go into Whitechapel after dark with Middleton.” He laughed before taking a sip of tea. “Now that we have learned of my lesson, I believe it is time to hear yours.”
“My lesson?” she squeaked. What was her lesson? Never believe a man who tells you that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever met when you know the truth of how you look? Never believe a man who hits you once and says he will never do it again? Always have a Bow Street runner investigate a man before becoming his mistress? There were far too many lessons to be had from this beating.
“Surely, you learned something?”
She nodded slowly. “I did. Never trust a man.”
He grimaced at her. “All men?”
“Perhaps not all, but most.”
“We’re not all horrible monsters who like to beat women.”
“I suppose not,” she conceded. “But how do you know who is a good man and who isn’t? I don’t have the resources to hire a Bow Street runner to investigate him before becoming involved.”
Hart’s brow furrowed. “Then you need to introduce the man to others so they can help you judge his character. From what I’ve discovered, no one knows a thing about this Allan Davies.”
“I suppose you are right.”
“Or next time choose a man that your friends and family already know.”
Except Mia had already decided there wouldn’t be a next time. She was done with men for good. All they ever did was cause her pain and heartache.
He quietly stared at her for a long moment as if contemplating something. Finally, he asked in a gentle tone, “Why did he beat you, Mia?”
Mia’s gaze moved away from his prying stare. She focused on the amber color of the tea in her cup. She couldn’t tell him about the gold so what could she say as an excuse for a man beating a woman? “I told him I wanted to end the relationship.”
Hart blew out a long breath. “Was there another man?”
“No.”
“He didn’t want to end the relationship? So beating you into submission was the answer?”
His questions only made her feel more guilt for the lies she continued to tell him. “I think he was just so angry that I would end the relationship before he was ready for it to be over.”
Hart nodded. “I suppose so. Did you not see other signs of violence?”
Mia shook her head. “Not really. He had a temper but seemed to control it most of the time.”
He looked away and nodded.
