Crystal Gardens by Amanda Quick Page A

worried expression. “No, that is quite true.”
    Lucas surveyed the three of them with a thoughtful expression. “It would be rather extraordinary if you ladies did have some practical experience with the criminal class. That is usually the province of the police.”
    “Mmm,”
Beatrice said politely. She sipped her tea.
    “Yes, of course,” Clarissa murmured. “The thing is, when you call in the police, you often find yourself dealing with the press. The police have their talents but they are not known for discretion.”
    Evangeline cleared her throat. “As it happens, Mr. Sebastian and I discussed that very point last night.”
    “When you were standing in his garden dressed only in your nightclothes?” Clarissa’s brows shot upward. “Yes, I expect that you did have a conversation about whether or not to summon the authorities.”
    “For heaven’s sake,” Beatrice chided. “This is hardly the time to speak of such matters.”
    “Nonsense,” Clarissa said. “Everyone in this room knows the facts of the situation. Evangeline and Mr. Sebastian made the right decision. One can only imagine the scandal that would have ensued if the story had landed in the London newspapers.”
    “If the attempted murder had its origins in the incident which occurred shortly after I left my last post, as Mr. Sebastian believes, I doubt that the police would have been of much help in any event,” Evangeline said. “Mr. Mason’s death was just an unfortunate accident.”
    “True,” Beatrice said neutrally.
    There was a short silence. Evangeline realized that Lucas was once again studying the three of them with keen attention.
    “I think,” he said after a moment, “that it is time you told me what it is that you ladies do to make your livings. And in particular, Miss Ames, I would very much like to know a bit more about what happened in the course of your last post.”
    Evangeline looked at Clarissa and Beatrice.
    “I think we can trust Mr. Sebastian,” Beatrice advised.
    “I don’t see that we have much choice,” Clarissa said. “Evangeline’s safety, perhaps her very life, is at stake here.”
    Evangeline sat back, cup and saucer in hand. “I did tell you, Mr. Sebastian, that my friends and I work for an agency that supplies paid companions to a very exclusive clientele.”
    “You mentioned your profession last night,” Lucas said. “But it has become clear to me that none of you is typical of the sort of unfortunate women who are obliged to pursue that particular career.”
    “Really, sir?” Evangeline looked at him over the rim of her cup. “And just how many paid companions have you been personally acquainted with?”
    Lucas’s mouth quirked at one corner. “You have me there, Miss Ames. I must admit that you are the first professional paid companion I have spoken to for more than thirty seconds. They tend to be the retiring sort, always sitting in the shadows, working on their knitting or reading while their employers go about their lives. One tends not to notice them.”
    Evangeline gave him a cool smile. “Which is precisely why we are so very, very good at what we do, sir. No one ever takes any notice of us when we are at work.”
    “And the nature of your work?” Lucas asked.
    “We are private inquiry agents,” Evangeline said.
    She waited for the inevitable signs of astonishment and disbelief to appear on Lucas’s face. She knew that Clarissa and Beatrice were waiting, too. They were all doomed to disappointment.
    “Interesting,” Lucas said. He sounded oddly satisfied. He swallowed some tea and set the cup down on the saucer. “That certainly explains a few things.”
    Clarissa narrowed her eyes. “Such as?”
    “Miss Lockwood’s comment about the criminal underworld not being your area of expertise, for one thing. You deal in crimes in high society.”
    “With the utmost discretion,” Evangeline added.
    He smiled. “Obviously, or the firm of Flint and Marsh would have gone out