QUOTE : That is a gun you have in your purse?” “A knife.” “Oh, for God’s sake.” He switched seats and settled directly beside her on the forward-facing seat. “Go ahead, try to stab me.” “You deserve to be deflated, but why attempt a violent felony?” “So I can show you why you ought not to carry such a thing.” “But my papa…” “Is a duke, who hasn’t been in a hand-to-hand brawl since his duchess got her mitts on him three decades ago. Pull the knife.” “But what if I hurt you?” “I want you to try to hurt me, try your absolute—” She got the thing free of her purse, at least, but he had her wrist pinned up against the squabs, his body forcing hers back against the seat so snugly he could feel her breathing. “I take your point,” she said, her breath fanning past his ear. He wasn’t finished. He eased the pressure on her wrist just a hair, and while she perhaps thought the demonstration over, he brought the knifepoint up right under her chin, making further speech for her perilous. “The gun,” he said, “will at least make a hell of a noise and bring help. If both barrels are spent, it’s harmless. The knife can be turned on you over and over again, and if you don’t bleed to death, then infection will likely carry you off eventually.” “I understand, Mr. Hazlit.” He