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instinctively, protective by nature. Belligerent, too.
    But she hadn’t seen him fight in years.
    She hadn’t seen any fights in years, she reminded herself. Men usually met at dawn, well out of the public eye, because dueling was illegal.
    Fisticuffs, however, were not. Still, they were hardly common among gentlemen, in broad day, on a major London thoroughfare.
    No wonder she was excited.
    “They will try to kill each other,” she told Bailey. “But all they’ll do is pummel each other, and that’s preferable to pistols at twenty paces. Belder’s spoiling for a fight, and Lisle will enjoy accommodating him.”
    A glance at her maid told her that Bailey, too, was not unmoved. A petite, pretty brunette, Bailey was not as delicate as she looked. She would not have survived her employment with Olivia otherwise.
    “You’ve never seen Lisle fight,” Olivia said. “He looks so angelic, I know, with his fair hair and those cool grey eyes of his, but he’s a ferocious pugilist. I once saw him make mincemeat of a great ox of a boy, easily twice his size.” It had happened on the day she’d started on her Noble Quest to Bristol. Lisle hadn’t approved of Nat Diggerby as a traveling companion for her.
    Truth to tell, she hadn’t been overly fond of Diggerby, either. Though she’d pretended not to care, she’d been vastly relieved when Lisle took his place.
    She turned her attention to the fight, wishing she could see more of it. She could hear the grunts and the thuds of fists connecting with body parts, but a great crowd of men blocked her view. They were shouting encouragement in between betting on the outcome.
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    Even she knew better than to try to break into that circle. A lady did not get mixed up in throngs of bloodthirsty males. A lady waited at a safe distance from the fray.
    If she could have climbed onto the footmen’s perch at the back of the carriage she could have a better view, but she mustn’t do that, either.
    She could only wait, listening and making do with glimpses, and hoping Lisle would come out of it in one piece. He was used to fighting, she told herself. People were always trying to kill him in Egypt. Still, Belder was for some reason madly jealous of him, and Lisle had humiliated the man in front of an audience of important men.
    After what seemed hours but could only have been minutes, there was a shout, then quiet. Then the wall of men began to give way. She saw Belder lying on the ground, and some of his friends going to him.
    She pushed forward, using her elbows and her umbrella to make way through the thinning crowd.
    She grabbed Lisle’s arm and tugged. “Come away,” she said.
    He looked at her blankly. His hair was tangled and filthy and his lip was bleeding. Blood spattered his neckcloth, which was torn. A sleeve of his coat had been partly ripped away from the shoulder seam.
    “Come away,” she said. “He can’t fight anymore.”
    Lisle looked at the man on the ground, then turned back to her. “Are you not going to comfort him?”
    “No.”
    He took out his handkerchief and started to wipe his lip, and winced.
    She took the handkerchief from him and dabbed at his lip. “You’ll have a prime black eye by tomorrow, and you’ll be eating soft foods for the next few days,” she said.
    “You have a knack for attracting idiots,” he said.
    She stopped dabbing. “Your lip is going to swell,” she said. “With any luck, you won’t be able to talk.” She shook her head, turned away, and started for her carriage.
    He followed. “You oughtn’t to encourage them when you don’t want them,” he said.
    “I don’t have to encourage them,” she said. “DeLucey women attract men. And men, by and large, are idiots. That includes you. You were looking for an excuse to fight, just as he was.”
    “Perhaps I was,” Lisle said. “I can’t remember when last I had so much fun