by Clee, Adele
“Snowing? Someone stole garments from your washing line?”
“Indeed. Kathleen, my maid, often hangs out my petticoats first thing in the morning. This morning, someone stole them. But that is not all. My cobbler was found bludgeoned to death, and my publisher is trying to force me into a romantic affair.” Eva’s shoulders sagged with relief as she caught her breath. She should have kept the last comment to herself but needed to confide in someone. “So you see, Mr Ashwood, why I would be confounded by it all.”
The gentleman remained silent for what seemed like an hour.
“Sir, perhaps I should take up your quill and list the events in chronological order. That way, you will have all the information to hand, and nothing will be missed.”
“There is no need, Miss Dunn.” Mr Ashwood pushed to his feet. He moved to the window and stared at the bustling street. “Your godfather died last year. Your reprobate brother has been missing for a week. Your cobbler was bludgeoned to death five days ago—”
“Five days ago? I don’t recall mentioning when—”
“I keep abreast of all serious crimes committed in the city.”
“I see.”
Perhaps she had made the right choice after all. If she could just get past this inconvenient attraction, together they might solve her problems in a matter of days.
“I suspect you received the blackmail note yesterday, forcing you to visit your publisher at night,” he continued in a serious tone. “While you were warding off Mr Hemming’s amorous advances, someone broke into your house and stole your shoes. A thief attacked you and stole your boots as you walked home.” He turned to face her. “Oh, and someone took your undergarments from the washing line this morning. Have I missed anything?”
“No, sir.” Dear Lord. He was so thorough she couldn’t help but admire him all the more. “That is exactly as it happened.”
If he agreed to take the case, there were many more facts to consider. From the glint of intrigue in his eyes, Eva was convinced he would.
Mr Ashwood folded his muscular arms across his chest and glared. “What the devil possessed you to walk the streets alone at night?” His voice was tight with disapproval, and he sounded more concerned than Howard ever had. “You had ten pounds on your person. For a woman with a logical mind, do you not think it a foolish thing to do, Miss Dunn?”
Eva was torn between telling the man to mind his own business—but she had made it his business—and letting the anxiety of the last few months show.
“I am in dire straits, sir.” Eva shot out of the chair. “Writing provides my only source of income. To put food on the table, I must endure my publisher’s wandering hands and salacious comments. Yes, I should have visited during the day, or taken a hackney, but desperation makes the most logical behave recklessly.”
The gentleman had the decency to incline his head in acknowledgement of her plight. “And I presume those willing to publish the work of a woman are few and far between.”
“Indeed,” she said, relieved he understood.
Mr Ashwood stroked his short, neatly trimmed beard. “What would you have me do, Miss Dunn? Am I to find your missing brother? Am I to discover who murdered your cobbler? Would you like me to catch a blackmailer or the person who stole your stockings?”
“Stockings?” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “I made no mention of stockings.”
“No.” Amusement danced in his emerald eyes. “But I’m confident they were on the washing line with your other undergarments.”
Eva swallowed. “Yes.”
“I wonder why you didn’t mention it.” The devil was teasing her again, flashing the sensual grin that made a simple undergarment seem highly indecent. “Perhaps you think I’m a man whose senses are easily aroused. I can assure you they are not.”
So why had his eyes glazed when drifting up past her boots?
“I would like you to find my brother,” she began, ignoring his previous comment for she lacked the skills needed when dealing with experienced men. “I want to know who stole my shoes and stockings. Who is blackmailing me? Who killed the cobbler? In short, Mr Ashwood, I need your help in every regard.”
“You ask a great deal.”
“I am confident you will rise to the challenge.”
“I’ve had no complaints.”
“Then I have chosen the right agent. It is my belief, that like the intricate strands of a spider’s web, all events are connected.”
The man moved to perch on the edge of his desk, the action drawing attention to the breadth of his solid thighs. “If I take this case, I will want to search your house, search your bedchamber. I will ask intimate questions, delve into your private affairs. Can you handle my intrusion, Miss Dunn?”
The smooth timbre of his voice left her a little breathless. “I—I shall tell you anything you need to know.”
“I have your assurance you will follow my instruction?”
Eva nodded. There was strength in knowing one’s limitations. “Yes. I shall bow to your wealth of experience in all matters. I shall do anything you ask of me.”
He arched a sinful brow. “Anything?”
“When it comes to solving the case, of course.”
“Of course. And you will be forthcoming with personal information?”
“I have nothing to hide, sir.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
She would have to tell him about the dreadful thing Howard had done.
Something so awful it shamed her to speak of it.
Something so appalling it gave his enemy a motive to commit murder.
Chapter 3
Noah’s willingness to take Miss Dunn’s case had nothing to do with her missing brother. The rogue had either fled the country or was a weighted corpse bobbing on the riverbed. Not that he would speak openly about the latter, not without proof. But he knew with absolute certainty Dermot Flannery was not to blame.
Noah’s reason for playing knight errant had nothing to do with blackmail or missing undergarments. Though when Miss Dunn blushed at the mere mention of her stockings, his heart had softened. And while he would do everything in his power to find and punish the villain who attacked her in the street, a different predator prompted his inner fury.
Indeed, he despised men who preyed on women down on their luck. And so his need to free Miss Dunn from the clutches of her lecherous publisher proved his main motivation for accepting the case.
“Did the blackmailer detail when and how you should pay?”
“No, sir. He will inform me where to make the deposit in due course.”
“I see.” The first demand was a test to see if she alerted the authorities. “And who knows you write as Cain Dunnavan?”
She shrugged. “My brother, my publisher and an old friend.”
Strange that she listed them in that order as her brother would be top of his list of suspects.
“Would you wait here for a moment, Miss Dunn?”
“Certainly.” The lady’s affected smile failed to reach her eyes. She was more anxious than she would have him believe.
Noah admired that.
Women used many techniques to incite a man’s pity. There was something about Miss Dunn’s proud chin he found appealing. There was something about the whole package that held him captive.
Noah left the lady scribbling in her notebook and returned to the drawing room. His friends were still drinking coffee and studying the broadsheets, noting information that might prove pertinent to future cases.
“Cole, may I speak to you privately?”
All three men glanced up from their relaxed positions on the sofas, their expressions brimming with curiosity.
“Of course.” Cole folded his newspaper and placed it on the low table next to the coffee pot.
Noah strode to the dining room, and Cole joined him there.
“You’re taking the case, I presume,” Cole said, closing the door.
“You know I hate to see a woman in distress.”
&n
bsp; Society had treated Noah’s mother like a pariah after his father’s untimely death. He had been a boy of ten, but the disastrous event afterwards left a gaping wound in his heart that had never healed.
Cole arched a brow. “Yet Miss Dunn appeared so composed.”
“Appeared being the operative word.”
“And your offer of assistance has nothing to do with the fact you find her interesting? I saw a glimmer of satisfaction in your eyes when she chose you. Women rarely capture your notice.”
“You were paying close attention.”
“Daventry’s stance is firm when it comes to relationships with clients.” Cole’s dark gaze carried a clear warning.
Lucius Daventry had hired them nine months ago. He was the master of the Order. A man who sought to right injustices, too. Despite Daventry’s illegitimacy, he had inherited a vast sum from his father the Duke of Melverley, money he had put to good use. Before that, Daventry had worked tirelessly to help the innocent escape transportation or the hangman’s noose. And while the gentleman rarely took cases of his own these days, he was the true overseer.
“I’ll admit I find the lady interesting.” More interesting than any woman of his acquaintance, Noah thought. “But I have no intention of pursuing a relationship with Miss Dunn. I have a job to do.” Every woman he helped eased the pain of regret over his mother’s suffering. If only for a short time. “Have I ever broken the rules?”
“Never.”
“Then I thank you for your counsel, but you have nothing to fear.”
“We need you here,” Cole persisted. “D’Angelo needs someone to keep him in line. Perhaps I should take the case.”
The sudden flurry of panic in Noah’s chest should have served as a warning. Yet the need to discover more about the pretty novelist, the need to soothe her woes, burned in his veins. Working with Miss Dunn would be a real test of his commitment to the Order.
“I’m motivated to help desperate women, not seduce them.” Noah clasped Cole’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “I give you my word, should lust overcome logic, I will seek your advice.”
Cole nodded but seemed unconvinced. “You didn’t call me in here to discuss your attraction to Miss Dunn.”
“An attraction that will soon pass,” Noah reaffirmed. He was confident it would. “The lady’s case is complicated. I need you to visit Dermot Flannery and ask about his dealings with a man named Howard Dunn. By all accounts, he gambled away his inheritance at The Silver Serpent.”
Though Miss Dunn seemed honest to a fault, Noah never took a client at their word. Facts were often distorted. Tainted by bitter memories. Twisted into a story to support the victim’s argument.
“You want to know if Flannery owns this fellow’s vowels?”
“Indeed.” He decided not to tell Cole that Miss Dunn had found evidence of her brother’s debts. “Ask Flannery if Howard Dunn owes money to another establishment and enquire there, too.”
Cole arched a brow. “Daventry will want to know there’s more to the case than finding a lady’s wayward relative.”
“Tell him it involves blackmail and assault. That should appease him. I would visit Flannery myself, but I have a more pressing line of enquiry.” Noah didn’t mention he would be delving into the matter of the lady’s missing stockings.
“I can run your errand after my appointment at Bow Street.”
“Excellent.” He could trust Cole to do a thorough job.
They returned to the hall and spoke briefly about Cole’s meeting with Sir Malcolm Langley. It was important they kept good relations with the magistrate and the constables who worked on the streets.
Cole glanced at the closed study door. “Some women look innocent but know how to get under a man’s skin. Hell, she even had me desperate to learn what was written in that damn notebook.”
Noah couldn’t help but smile. Cole made Miss Dunn sound like a wicked temptress. Like those ladies who circled the ballrooms, flaunting their bulging bosoms, eager to capture every man’s eye. They failed to raise Noah’s gaze, let alone any other part of his anatomy. So what was it about Miss Dunn that left him eager to learn more?
Cole returned to the drawing room to finish his coffee. Noah returned to the study and found Miss Dunn wearing her spectacles and scrawling frantically in her little brown book. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence—she didn’t.
He cleared his throat.
The lady flicked her hand at him as if he were an annoying fly buzzing around her buttered scone. Women were usually eager for his attention. Never had one told him to “hush a moment”.
He perched on the edge of the desk like one of the vain vixens he despised, displaying his muscular thighs to advantage in the hope of luring Miss Dunn away from her scribblings. But it seemed nothing could disturb her concentration.
As soon as she’d written the last word, she thrust her book and pencil into her reticule, removed her spectacles and jumped to her feet.
“Forgive my rudeness, Mr Ashwood. I had an idea for a plot. The slightest distraction and I lose my train of thought.”
He glanced around the study. “One wonders what you found to inspire you in here.”
“You’d be surprised.” Her bright blue gaze turned coy. “Perhaps I might tell you when I have explored the idea further.”
“I shall look forward to the prospect.”
She stole a glance at his buckskin breeches, and he imagined pulling her between his legs and giving her a far more salacious storyline. A tale of a couple who succumb to their wicked desires while solving a case of mischief and mayhem.
Hellfire!
To rein in his erotic thoughts, he glanced at the painting of the goddess Themis above the mantel. Her weighing scales were a symbol of justice, but a reminder one prospered when life had balance. Perhaps he spent too much time working, not enough time enjoying leisurely pursuits. Perhaps that was why this woman roused a strange craving deep in his chest.
“It is rare for a client to accompany me on an investigation, Miss Dunn. But in this instance, I require your insight.”
The lady’s countenance brightened. “Oh, how exciting. Are we to visit Mr Flannery’s gaming hell? I’ve longed to see if it’s as wild as they say. That would be the most logical way to begin proceedings.”
“Indeed. However, my associate will visit Flannery. You can help by answering two questions so I may determine the location of our first appointment.”
A frown replaced her look of bitter disappointment. “How do you know you need my assistance if you have no notion where we’re going?”
“Just answer the questions, Miss Dunn. I need your address and your given name.” He didn’t need her given name, just an initial would suffice, but he was curious.
“Yes, of course. I own a house on Brownlow Street, opposite the Lying-In Hospital. It’s a short walk from here.”
She owned the house?
“You live alone, not with your brother?”
“I inherited the house when my godfather died. Howard got the apartment in the Albany but now lives with me. He lost the apartment to Lord Greymore in a game of hazard.”
Howard Dunn was a bloody buffoon. A dissolute wastrel. Everything Noah despised. Yet the information proved useful. It supported his initial theory that Howard Dunn was in hiding. That he sent the blackmail note to his sister hoping to gain funds to pay his debt. Noah would lay odds Miss Dunn had refused to lend her brother money.
“I cannot abide weak men,” he said, firming his jaw in irritation. “Be aware, if we find your lousy brother I’m liable to break his nose.”
The irony of the situation was not lost on him. All men had weaknesses. Intelligent, interesting women could well be his.
“You’re welcome to try anything that might knock sense into his muddled brain.” Her tone echoed her frustration. “As to your second question, my given name is Evangeline, but I prefer Eva. Is there a particular reason you asked?”
Evang
eline.
It was unusual. Striking. Unique. Much like the lady herself. There was something sensual about the way his tongue wrapped around the syllables as he whispered it almost to himself. Somewhere there had to be the word Angel. Just like his need to protect D’Angelo from his tragic past, Noah felt the same compulsion to save Evangeline Dunn.
“I’ll explain on the way.” Noah stood. “As you live but a ten-minute walk from here, we’ll visit a shop in Castle Street first. Mrs Gunning will act as chaperone.”
“There is no need to trouble your housekeeper. My brother is a wicked scoundrel. It’s too late to consider my reputation.”
“Still, I must insist.” His uncle’s spies were everywhere. Lord Hawkridge sought any opportunity to spread gossip and lies, to blacken Noah’s name.
“Very well.” The lady pushed her spectacles into her reticule and snatched her dark blue kid gloves from the desk. “I assume there’s a reason we’re going shopping.”
Noah opened the study door and followed Miss Dunn into the hall. “We’re shopping for undergarments. I have three theories regarding the theft this morning.” Initially, he’d had two. The fact she lived close to the Lying-In Hospital brought to mind a third.
“Three?”
“An obsessed publisher might want a memento.”
Miss Dunn’s eyes widened in horror. “Surely not.”
“We shall see.” He inclined his head. “Excuse me a moment.”
He left Miss Dunn waiting in the hall while he informed his friends of his plan to visit Brownlow Street. Investigating scoundrels brought its own dangers, and they always kept abreast of each other’s movements. Then he descended the basement stairs.
“Mrs Gunning?” He knocked on the door of the housekeeper’s sitting room before entering. He might have tugged the bell to summon her, but he wanted to speak privately. “I need you to accompany me on an outing.”
The housekeeper hauled her stout frame out of the chair behind the old oak desk and closed the ledger. “Should I change into my best dress, sir?”
“That won’t be necessary. But be prepared. When we reach Miss Dunn’s house, I may need you to play a role.”