Dauntless: Gentlemen of the Order - Book 1

by Clee, Adele

  Oh, this was ridiculous.

  “Will Mr Ashwood be attending tonight?” she repeated.

  Mr Cole glanced in her direction. “Does it matter?”

  It did matter.

  It mattered more than it should.

  Perhaps an estrangement was for the best. Nothing would come of this bedevilling attraction. The addiction had kept her awake last night, imagining all sorts of lewd fantasies.

  “What if word gets out I am betrothed to Mr Ashwood? Will it not look highly irregular if I attend a ball with you, sir?”

  Mr Cole shot forward in the seat. “Betrothed? To Ashwood?” The atmosphere grew heavy, charged with tension, like the prelude to a violent storm. “Madam, if this is a game to rile my temper—”

  “I never play games, Mr Cole.” She gave an outline of the meeting in Mr Hemming’s office. If Mr Ashwood failed to mention their fake betrothal, he most definitely hadn’t mentioned the kiss. “And so you see, Mr Ashwood wished to send the rogue a clear message.”

  Mr Cole’s eyes flashed as black as his mood. “Oh, I understand the message. I understand the message all too well.”

  “Whatever you’re implying, sir, you have me at a loss.”

  “Then it seems neither of you has control of your wits.”

  It occurred to her that Mr Cole’s annoyance stemmed from a need to protect his friend and colleague. But from what? Did he think she’d invented her problems merely to seduce an unsuspecting agent into marriage?

  “It was merely a ploy. Bait to lure a rodent into a trap.”

  “What sort of trap?” Mr Cole snapped.

  “Mr Ashwood is trying to determine whether my brother sent the blackmail note to gain funds, or if my publisher sent it to entice me to his office in the dead of night.” She offered a confident smile. “It is not a trap to lure an eligible gentleman into marriage if that is your fear.”

  “Fear?” He snorted. “I’m not afraid of anything, Miss Dunn.”

  “No. Nothing except for experiencing the pain that has made you so hard and unforgiving.”

  Well, that took the wind out of his sails.

  The gentleman stared open-mouthed for a few seconds until he mastered his senses. “Then I shall follow your lead, madam, and be blunt. I intend to help my friend overcome his fleeting infatuation.”

  Infatuation!

  Eva’s heart lurched.

  So, she had not imagined the vibrant energy that charged the air when in Mr Ashwood’s company. The taste of passion on his lips had not been part of the ruse. They had many things in common, too many to ignore. One might be forgiven for believing fate had brought them together.

  “Then let us be clear, sir. I have the utmost respect for Mr Ashwood.” Indeed, he had restored her faith, given her the belief there were honest men in the world. “I have no intention of making the case more difficult than it is already. So, for the third and final time, will your colleague be joining us this evening?”

  After a moment of reflection, Mr Cole said, “The official answer is no. Another matter requires his attention. As his friend, I would not be surprised if he made an appearance.”

  Her stomach grew hot upon hearing the news.

  Perhaps Mr Cole had every reason to express his concern. This fleeting infatuation had taken command of her faculties, too.

  A heavy silence ensued.

  Nerves took hold as they neared Cavendish Square and the home of Lord Newberry. The fop had been a guest at Briden Castle two summers ago, along with his friend Lord Benham. Both men had lavished her with attention. It was Clara who first made Eva aware of the bet. A kindness that was a catalyst for the wealth of suffering that followed.

  “It might help if you explain our objective for attending the ball this evening,” Eva said. She needed to prepare mentally for the clash with the viscount. “I presume we have invitations. That said, Lord Benham will probably have me thrown out.” And yet it wasn’t the viscount’s anger she feared, more his cunning and his need for vengeance.

  “No one will ask us to leave. Daventry knows too much about Newberry’s nefarious dealings.”

  “And will Lord Newberry provide a chaperone? Surely you know what people will say should they see us alone together.”

  Eva didn’t care what people said. Most expected the worst. Like those poor souls during the revolution, her name was proof of her guilt. Besides, those who professed to be holier than thou and the epitome of high standards, were drunken debauchers who would murder their own mothers to move up the social ladder. Although seeing her in the company of another man was certain to rouse the viscount’s ire.

  Mr Cole exhaled a weary sigh. “Mr Ashwood insisted I arrange for a companion. Someone respectable, trustworthy. Someone of his choosing. Someone with whom I share a history.”

  Whoever this someone was, Mr Cole’s tone turned irritable the moment he spoke about the mystery lady. But there was no time to press him further. The carriage slowed, joining the queue stretching as far as Henrietta Street.

  For fifteen minutes, they sat in morbid silence. Every jolt and jerk forward added to the crippling sense of trepidation. Music and the faint hum of laughter drifted through the cool night air, but it did nothing to ease the tension.

  Mr Cole was every bit the respectable gentleman as he escorted Eva into the mansion house. From her brief encounter with Lord Newberry, she knew him to be a man who liked to flaunt his wealth. Tonight was no exception.

  Magnificent ice sculptures, lavish champagne fountains and an alarming number of standing candelabra made for an extravagant affair.

  Mr Cole’s mouth curled in disdain as he led Eva to their position near a grand marble fireplace, above which hung a huge portrait of their host.

  Despite Mr Cole’s stony appearance, many men inclined their heads respectfully as they passed. Indeed, they seemed a little in awe of the brusque gentleman who had barely spoken two words to Eva since their arrival.

  “At last,” he muttered beneath his breath as a graceful woman approached. Mr Cole scanned the lady’s figure-hugging emerald dress with a little more than indifference. He gave the silver-blonde curls teasing her elegant neck the same scrutiny.

  “Finlay,” the lady said, her blue eyes as bright as her smile. “Or am I supposed to call you Raven?”

  Mr Cole ignored the question and introduced Lady Adair, a widow approaching thirty whose porcelain skin would rival that of any young debutante.

  “I must say, I was a little surprised to receive your note.” A slight tension lingered behind the lady’s friendly manner.

  “Miss Dunn is without family or connections,” he replied soberly, “but it was imperative she attend tonight.”

  “Is there a gentleman here you wish to impress, Miss Dunn?” Lady Adair scanned Eva’s red gown with a look of admiration, and yet a sliver of jealousy invaded her tone.

  “I dress to please myself, my lady.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Tonight was the first time she had ever wanted to look beautiful as opposed to confident. She had thought of Mr Ashwood when dabbing rosewater to her throat. She had thought of Mr Ashwood when insisting Kathleen pull her stays tighter.

  Lady Adair laughed. “Then you’re either a woman of great fortune or one of strong moral character.”

  “I am neither.” She could not profess to be moral after the sinful way Mr Ashwood had devoured her mouth. Indeed, her traitorous body was in danger of permitting more shocking liberties. “But I have yet to meet a man worthy of my effort. Most are debauched degenerates filled with self-importance.”

  That was not entirely true, either.

  Mr Ashwood was the exception.

  “On that point, I must agree.” The lady laughed as she stole a glance at Mr Cole. “And yet in my experience, good men rarely commit.”

  Mr Cole cleared his throat. “A good man wants a woman who can warm his heart with the same fervent passion she warms his bed.”

  One did not need to be skilled in reading subtext to know thi
s couple shared a tumultuous history.

  “And what would a lady need to do to melt the frost around your heart, Mr Cole?” Lady Adair said, adding emphasis to the point that she had not used his given name.

  Mr Cole was about to answer, but the arrival of Lord Benham seized his attention.

  Eva recoiled as panic rose like a tidal wave ready to engulf her.

  Lord Benham was not a handsome man. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the bottomless pit of a well. Cold and dark and dank. He bore the nose of a tyrant, hooked, long and dreadfully ugly. His mouth would be his redeeming feature were it not drawn tight into a cynical line.

  Mr Cole turned to Lady Adair, who had undoubtedly hurt him at some point in his life. “Can I trust you to stay with Miss Dunn for a moment?”

  “Of course. That is why you summoned me.”

  “Do not let her out of your sight.”

  Eva watched Lord Benham bull his way through the crowd. She hoped to shrink back into the fireplace, to get lost amongst the soot and coals. But Lady Adair had an inherent beauty that captured every man’s eye. Indeed, Benham glanced in their direction, his lifeless eyes widening as their gazes locked.

  That vicious mouth twitched.

  If only Mr Ashwood were here. In his company, she felt invincible. Had she explained the whole story, he would not have left her to face this devil alone. But she could not hide from the wicked creature forever. She had sought professional help to bring an end to her nightmares. And yet she couldn’t help but think her nightmares had only just begun.

  Chapter 9

  Despite Mr Cole’s cunning effort to extract information from Lord Benham, he returned to the ballroom disappointed and in a devil of a mood. Lady Adair had removed to speak to Lady Cartwright, and so Mr Cole aired his frustration.

  “Benham said he saw your brother at the tables in Cockburns a few days ago.” Mr Cole sneered. “Your sibling fled with his coat-tails flapping. Benham is lying through his teeth and knows a damn sight more than he claims.”

  “That would not surprise me.” Was Howard playing a game? A game to force her hand? Would he continue to cause her distress until she loosened the purse strings and parted with the full two thousand pounds? “I refer to my brother gambling. Lord Benham is undoubtedly a liar.”

  Mr Cole eyed her suspiciously. “Benham asked about the nature of our relationship and seemed annoyed you’re here with me. Jealousy formed the basis of his enquiry.” He paused. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  Elaborate!

  Eva had banished the memories to the far reaches of her mind. Still, she had made a commitment to deal with her problems, not hide from them.

  Elaborate?

  There was no easy way to say it. Perhaps a short explanation would suffice.

  “Lord Benham tried to bed me during a month’s stay at Briden Castle. He had to bed me to win a bet.” She paused for breath, and to banish the terrible images from her mind. “For three tiring weeks, he did everything in his power to dupe me, to capture me in his snare. It was his sister Clara who confessed to his devious plan.”

  “They say Benham always gets what he wants.” Disgust imbued Mr Cole’s tone. “They say he can be extremely persuasive.”

  “Deviously so.” Eva shivered at the memory. A lady needed her wits to stay one step ahead. She lowered her voice. “But please, tell me you didn’t speak about Clara’s predicament. The viscount will do anything to keep his sister’s shame a secret.”

  “I’m not a fool, Miss Dunn.”

  “No.”

  “Has it occurred to you that your brother acted out of revenge? That he treated Benham’s sister the way Benham treated you?”

  A choked laugh burst from Eva’s lips. She had never heard anything so absurd. “Sir, I can assure you, my brother wouldn’t care if I were carried away by a horde of rampaging Vikings.”

  Mr Cole did not share in her amusement.

  Nor did anyone else in the room.

  All laughter and conversation died.

  Eva craned her neck to see what had captured the crowd’s attention. What had made them nudge their friends, press their heads together and whisper?

  “Ashwood is here.” Mr Cole’s comment almost knocked Eva off her feet.

  “Is he?” Her lungs contracted, squeezing out her last breath. Her head spun as her heart plunged to the depths of her stomach. She caught sight of him then—the enigmatic gentleman who sent her giddy.

  Heaven help her!

  She patted her simple coiffure and brushed her skirts. Would he look upon the sumptuous red gown with admiring eyes? Would that wickedly sinful gaze linger in daring places? Would she see the fleeting infatuation Mr Cole mentioned?

  Lady Adair returned. “Mr Ashwood has come to cause a stir, I see. If he’s searching for his uncle, he’ll find Hawkridge in the card room.”

  “He’s not here for Hawkridge,” came Mr Cole’s disgruntled mutter. “No doubt the crowd will be disappointed. They enjoy a good show.”

  “Well, he seems determined in his cause.” Lady Adair arched a brow, seemingly intrigued. “So determined he forgot to dress in evening attire. As heir presumptive, perhaps he wishes to frighten Hawkridge into an early grave.”

  Mr Ashwood was Lord Hawkridge’s heir?

  Mr Cole scoffed. “Ashwood hopes his uncle will sire a son before meeting his maker. The last thing my friend wants is a title.”

  “I fear his hopes may be dashed,” Lady Adair replied. “Everyone knows Lady Hawkridge is barren.”

  Mr Ashwood continued to push through the crowd. All Eva could do was drink in the splendid sight. He was as fearless as his moniker implied. While all the men wore black coats, breeches and buckled shoes, he was dressed in buckskins and Hessians. Eva imagined he would look devastatingly handsome in black. Yet there was something about his defiant air that made him utterly irresistible.

  He turned his head in her direction and their gazes locked. A sinful smile formed on his lips as his attention journeyed over her gown. The power of it hit her hard. Heat flooded her cheeks. Blessed saints. Every person in the room must know of her desire for this man. Mr Cole must surely see that she was more than obsessed with the agent who wrote lewd poetry.

  But then a pretty woman with vibrant red hair stopped Mr Ashwood in his tracks. The temptress placed her hand on his arm in a way that seemed far too familiar. Jealousy slithered like a serpent in Eva’s chest, its poisonous venom adding to her delirium.

  “Please excuse me.” Her words escaped her on a breathless pant. “I—I must visit the retiring room.”

  If she could not take control of her heightened emotions, Mr Cole would assume responsibility for her case. The thought of not working closely with Mr Ashwood, of not seeing him again, made her feel sick to her stomach.

  “You should not go alone,” Mr Cole said, gesturing for his friend to join them. “Sophia, would you accompany Miss Dunn to the retiring room?”

  The lady’s coy smile spoke of mischief. “Certainly. Come, Miss Dunn.” She threaded her arm through Eva’s. “Let us discuss Mr Cole’s bad temper in private.”

  As Lady Adair steered her away through the ballroom, Eva didn’t dare steal a glance at Mr Ashwood. There were many excuses she could make for her sudden departure. Based on his appearance, she could say that she presumed he wished to discuss something urgently with Mr Cole. That was if she ever found herself alone with Mr Ashwood again.

  The queue to the retiring room stretched the length of the corridor. Lady Adair spent the time probing Eva about Mr Cole. Had he mentioned their fathers were close friends? Had he spoken about his wife, about the woman who died three years ago? Had he expressed a desire to remarry?

  Eva explained that she barely knew him and that it was Mr Ashwood with whom she shared an acquaintance. The mere mention of the gentleman’s name caused desire to unfurl like the first petals of spring. The memory of him dabbing rosewater to her neck, of his mouth mo
ving over hers with complete mastery, roused a physical ache.

  Oh, this was absurd.

  Never had a man taken command of her senses.

  In the retiring room, she joined the queue to use a booth. Not because she wished to attend to her ablutions, but she needed a moment alone to catch her breath.

  By now, Mr Cole would have spoken of Lord Benham’s deplorable antics at Briden Castle. Mr Ashwood made no secret of his disdain for men who took advantage. Would he go in search of Lord Benham? Would he seek answers? Would he make more shocking claims to prove a point?

  A loud knock on the dressing screen made Eva jump.

  “Are you all right, Miss Dunn?” Lady Adair’s concerned voice was barely audible amongst the bird-like chatter in the room.

  “Yes. Just a moment.” Eva inhaled deeply before straightening her skirts and parting the screen.

  Lady Adair entered the booth. “Wait for me on the sofa.” She gestured to the adjoining salon occupied by a host of young women and their dithering mothers. “Before we return to the ballroom, there is something I want to ask you about Mr Cole.”

  Eva groaned inwardly but forced a smile. “Certainly.”

  She had no intention of waiting, and every intention of seeking Lord Benham. It was time she stopped hiding. Time she spoke honestly. Time the viscount understood that his licentious actions were partly to blame for the whole dreadful affair.

  After scanning the corridor to ensure Mr Cole wasn’t lingering in the shadows, Eva left the retiring salon and quickly hurried to the refreshment room. Lord Benham stood a head taller than most men, and she soon discerned he was not amongst the crowd enjoying claret and conversation. The card room was her next port of call, but he was not seated at the tables where men sought refuge from interfering mamas, either.

  There were but a few places left to look.

  The young buck leaving the billiard room informed her the viscount wasn’t playing and to his knowledge loathed the game.