by Clee, Adele
“You’ve overstepped the mark,” Noah continued, poking his uncle in the chest. “Everyone knows you’re bitter because I inherited the lion’s share while you got nothing but the entailed property. That’s the reason you’ve wasted years trying to prove I’m illegitimate, trying to persuade my grandfather to amend his will. But you could have killed an innocent woman. And for what? Out of spite? Because you would do anything to prevent me from marrying? Because you hope I die so you can claim everything I own?”
Lord Hawkridge found an ounce of courage from somewhere and said, “I’d rather die than have my brother’s offspring take the title.”
“Then you’re in luck.” Noah straightened. “I’ll take that as an admission of guilt and so you’d best dust off your pistols. Only one of us will walk away the victor.”
Eva gasped. “No! You’ll not risk your life on my account.”
“Daventry will cast you out of the Order,” Mr Cole cautioned. “There is no honour in killing a man. You’ll be forced to live abroad. Your name will carry eternal shame. That’s not what your grandfather wanted. That’s never been what you wanted.”
Panic gripped Eva around the throat. “Please, don’t do this. There must be another solution.”
Noah turned on his uncle. “Why could you not simply sire an heir and be done with it? Why could you not look to fill the house with a brood of boys ready to take your place?”
“Do you not think I’ve tried?” The lord’s words dripped with contempt. “I had the pick of the crop and chose the only damn woman in the ton who is barren. No wonder she came with a sizeable dowry.”
Lord Hawkridge spoke as if his wife were a broodmare. No doubt, he wished to put the muzzle of a pistol to her head and pull the trigger, go hunting for a filly. Perhaps the woman with the saddest eyes Eva had ever seen, might wish for a quick end to her torment, too.
“That useless vessel will be the ruin of my family.” Lord Hawkridge’s features twisted in disdain. “That pathetic woman will be my damn downfall.”
Eva couldn’t bear to hear another derogatory word from this fool’s lips. Thankfully, she didn’t have to suffer another disparaging remark. Without warning, Noah drew his fist back and threw a punch that snapped his uncle’s head sideways.
There was a stunned moment of silence before Lord Hawkridge cried out and clutched his jaw.
“That is for the insult shown to your wife, for speaking ill of her when in company.” Noah drew his fist back again, and his uncle flinched. “I would wager you’re the one who cannot sire an heir. Everything about you is rotten to the core. My father knew it to be true. My grandfather knew it, too.”
Eva stepped forward. She curled her fingers around Noah’s bulging bicep and eased his raised arm to his side. “All the more reason you should not waste your life exacting revenge. This ingrate isn’t worth the time or trouble, and I pity the woman who has to suffer his vile condemnation.”
The woman who deserved Eva’s pity appeared like an apparition in the doorway. Her gaunt face and pale complexion spoke of months of sustained torment.
“Your father had the utmost respect for Mr Ashwood,” the wraith-like figure said so quietly the words were barely audible. “Can we not welcome him as family and put this dreaded business behind us?”
Lord Hawkridge stared at the frail creature as if he wished to banish her back to the nether realm. “Remove yourself, madam. You have not been summoned.”
The lady managed to rouse strength from somewhere. “Does it matter which Ashwood bears the title? Does it matter if your nephew is the heir?”
Lord Hawkridge ground his teeth. “I’ll not have the son of a wastrel take the seat.” He jabbed his finger towards the door. “Now, why don’t you go for a walk in the garden, my dear. With luck, you’ll catch a chill and bring a speedy end to all my problems.”
Eva held her temper, but it took a tremendous effort not to punch the lord. “Come, Mr Ashwood,” she said, staring down her nose at the pathetic toad in the chair. “There is no point wasting your breath, and I refuse to let you risk your life for this worthless creature.”
“Go to hell!” the lord retaliated. “And take that useless bint with you.”
“Miss Dunn is right, Uncle,” Noah countered. “A lead ball to the chest is too good for you. When you take your last breath, I pray the Lord delivers a fitting punishment. A humiliating end for the deplorable way you treat your wife.” Noah tugged the cuffs of his coat. “In the meantime, I intend to ensure Peel is aware of your complicity. I intend to spend my waking hours ensuring every peer in the land knows of your cowardly misdeeds.”
Noah did not give him a chance to reply. He captured Eva’s elbow and led her out into the hall, ignoring the muttered curses emanating from the study.
Lady Hawkridge was already climbing the stairs, no doubt keen to remove herself from the whip of another vile tirade.
“Gertrude,” Noah called.
The lady gripped the rail with bony fingers and glanced back over her shoulder. “I shall be fine, Mr Ashwood. Do not concern yourself with my predicament.”
“You should not have to suffer like this. As you know, I own an estate in Gloucestershire. Say the word, and you may retire there at your earliest convenience.”
Eva’s heart swelled at his generosity. She might have fallen in love with him all over again were she not already besotted.
“That’s extremely kind, sir, but I refuse to run from my responsibilities.” She turned and continued her solemn walk as if ascending the crude wooden steps to the gallows.
Knowles and William were waiting at the front door.
The butler thrust a wicker basket into Noah’s arms and whispered, “Mrs Drysdale assembled a few items for you, sir. She knows how you love her almond cake and plum jam.”
Noah’s eyes shone with genuine affection. He asked Knowles to pass on his thanks, clutched the butler’s shoulder and added, “Should Lady Hawkridge ever need assistance, send word to me in Wigmore Street.”
Knowles nodded.
Noah cast a wistful glance along the hallway as they all departed.
They climbed into the carriage, travelled for a few minutes in silence until Eva said, “One cannot help but fear for Lady Hawkridge’s mental state. Perhaps I could write to her, encourage her to accept your offer.”
Noah sighed and brushed his hand through his hair. “Hawkridge won’t let her leave. He needs someone to blame for his misgivings. I made the offer because I want her to know she has somewhere to go should the situation become unbearable.”
“It’s hard to believe you’re from the same family,” she replied.
“Why do you think my grandfather left me everything that wasn’t entailed?”
No one spoke for a while, not until Mr Cole said, “When we return to Hart Street we need to update Daventry on our findings.” He repeated what Lord Benham had told them about the last time he’d seen Howard.
“Very well,” Noah replied. “We need to tell Daventry about the second blackmail note. And I need to visit the Turners.” He gave Eva his full attention. “I pray they’re responsible for kidnapping your brother, and not Manning.”
“I don’t think it matters either way.” It was strange, but she had already resigned herself to the fact Howard was dead. A man could only dance with the devil so many times before getting burned.
“But the Turners can wait,” Noah suddenly said. “Once I’ve updated Daventry, I have an appointment I cannot postpone.”
“An appointment?” Eva feared he would return to Duke Street alone and seek to end the bitter feud with his uncle.
But the corners of Noah’s lips curled in the sensual way that made her heart thunder and her muscles weak.
“It’s Wednesday,” he said. “I have something important to do.” His sinful gaze swept over her body. “Something that cannot wait.”
Chapter 16
The anger simmering in Noah’s veins dissipated the moment he glimpsed Eva appro
aching on the garden path. It was six in the evening, and the sun shone while making its slow descent. The warm breeze ruffled his hair, blew away the bitter emotions that had plagued him since beating a confession from his uncle’s lackey.
Despite the constant trickle of water from the fountain, he heard the crunch of Eva’s footsteps on the gravel path as she passed through the willow tunnel. She appeared from between the fragrant pink rose bushes, her eyes bright, her smile dazzling.
“Well,” she began, taking in the picnic laid out on the blanket. Her gaze drifted to the enclosed garden and the borders teeming with vibrant summer flowers. “This is certainly more private than the park.”
“It’s my sanctuary.” A place where he came to relax and forget about the traumas of the day. “No one will disturb us out here. The topiary hedge prevents anyone from spying on us from the upper windows next door.”
“I trust we have Mrs Drysdale to thank for the picnic.”
“She liked to spoil me when I lived with my grandfather and has filled the basket with my favourite delicacies.” Although nothing could surpass the sweet taste of Eva Dunn’s lips. “And I’ve brought a book of lewd poems should you wish to hear the words of a genius.”
Eva arched a coy brow. “Are you attempting to seduce me, Mr Ashwood?”
He glanced at her plain grey dress, noted that her breasts were not as high or firm. “It seems you’re in the mind for more than a picnic, Miss Dunn. Either that, or I need to dismiss the maid.”
The temptress smoothed her hands from her breasts to her hips. “Stays are most inconvenient when frolicking in the garden.”
Minx!
He gestured to the beautiful blooms that gave off the sweetest scent. A scent nowhere near as intoxicating as the smell of her skin. “Do you know the name of those roses?”
“No, but I can see you’re dying to tell me.”
“Cuisse de Nymph or Thigh of Nymph when translated.” Indeed, the heads were soft and pink and pleasing to the eye.
“What a remarkable coincidence.”
“So remarkable it’s as if fate lured you here. What better place to continue my detailed examination?”
She glanced at the selection of food on the blanket—cured ham, chicken pie, almond cake and plum jam. “Are you hungry? Are we to eat before you make a thorough study of my thigh?”
“Hungry? I’ve been ravenous all day.” He was more than ready to slip his tongue into her sex and feast. “But there’s no rush. I like watching you eat. Observing you wrap your mouth around a juicy slice of pie might prove arousing.”
“Then let us indulge our appetites.” She glanced up at the cloudless sky. “There’s no reason why we cannot remain out here for hours.”
“No reason at all.” He took her hand and guided her to the blue plaid blanket. “Don’t be polite. Once you’ve tasted the pie, you’ll be begging Mrs Drysdale to bake another.”
She sat down, removed her boots and tucked her legs under her skirts. Noah offered her a choice of wine or lemonade.
“After the day we’ve had, wine will better settle my nerves.”
Noah examined the bottle and laughed. “Knowles saw fit to slip a bottle of my grandfather’s best burgundy into the basket.”
“Will your uncle not dismiss him for theft when he notices?”
“Hawkridge doesn’t waste time monitoring the wine cellar. And Gertrude is treated more like a scullery maid than the mistress of the house.”
Hawkridge feared that if he left Gertrude to manage the household affairs, she would rob him blind and disappear into the night. Noah wished his uncle would banish his wife to the country where she might find some semblance of peace.
Noah removed the cork from the bottle and set the wine aside. He shrugged out of his coat, hung it on the low branch of the apple tree and sat on the blanket.
“Your uncle controls those around him with an iron fist.” Eva took the china plate and held it in her lap. “You can feel the oppressive atmosphere the moment you enter the house.”
Noah cut a slice of pie and placed it on her plate. “Things were so different when my grandfather was alive. The staff were happy. When he died, I offered them all positions in Wigmore Street, but Knowles’ family have served every Lord Hawkridge for two hundred years.”
“And he didn’t want to be the one in a long, proud line to neglect his duty.”
“No. The rest of the staff are loyal to Knowles. They’re like a family.”
Eva accepted a fork. She cut the pie and slipped a small piece into her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.” Her expression turned pensive as she swallowed the morsel. “I still don’t know what to do about Kathleen. I cannot trust her, but Howard is so sly, so manipulative, I feel somewhat to blame.”
Most people would cast the maid out without a thought, but Eva cared for those less blessed. Her inner beauty was the reason he found her so damn irresistible.
“No doubt your brother tempted Kathleen with dreams of a bright future.” To a maid, the prospect of becoming a gentleman’s mistress had some appeal. “I can give her a position at my estate in Gloucestershire if it eases your conscience.”
Eva put her hand to her chest. “You would do that? For me?”
“Without hesitation.”
For a heartbeat, maybe two, they stared into each other’s eyes.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled. “Say yes and let that be the end of the matter.”
Again, she stared. “You have a way of solving all my problems. When I’m with you, I feel as if I could tackle the world.”
He put down his plate and captured her hand. “When I’m with you, I feel an inner peace I never thought possible.”
“It proves the point that beyond dark storm clouds the sun is still shining. Had Howard not behaved so abominably, I would not have come to Hart Street. I wouldn’t have met you.”
The thought left an empty void in his chest. “I’d like to think we would have met somewhere. At my publisher’s office, perhaps. Oh, on the subject of Mr Lydford, he sent word he will meet with you on Friday.”
“Friday?” Her look of delight faded almost instantly. “Maybe I should wait before meeting him. I fear I’ve lost the ability to commit words to paper.”
When one’s mind was diverted, it was impossible to be creative. And Eva had been plagued by a host of distractions of late. “You need inspiration, that is all.”
“That’s easy to say.”
Yes, he knew what it was like to sit at a desk, fingers stained with ink, surrounded by a mound of crumpled paper.
“You could write about a maid who is manipulated by her employer’s brother, and so she sets out to ruin him by clever means. Write a terrifying tale of consequences.”
“A tale of consequences,” she mused. The sudden flash in her eyes said he had piqued her interest. “Yes. It could be a lesson to all gentlemen that one should never underestimate a female opponent.”
“Indeed.” There were many ways to help unfortunate members of society. A poet or novelist had the perfect opportunity to enlighten the upper echelons. “If the message saves one poor maid from suffering Kathleen’s experience, it will be worth the effort.”
“You’re right,” she said, her countenance brightening. “What would I do without you?”
What would he do without her was more to the point.
The thought roused a deep-rooted insecurity. To have happiness snatched from one’s grasp caused unbearable pain, tremendous heartache. Every instinct advised he learn from history. But if working with Cole had taught him anything, it was that a life spent living in the past was a life filled with bitterness. The need to help his friend break the tragic cycle was the reason he had insisted on Lady Adair playing chaperone.
“Hopefully, you’ll never have to face that dilemma,” he said in the lighthearted way that failed to reveal his innermost fears.
Indeed, he was suddenly captured by the beauty of the moment. The sweet smel
l of roses permeated the air. The verdant canopy offered an idyllic haven where a man might indulge his passions. The incredible woman seated next to him on the blanket roused a yearning he needed to satisfy. Satisfy now if she was willing.
“Shall I read a poem?” He took the green leather-bound book from beside the basket. “Is there one you prefer?”
She looked to his mouth and then into his eyes. “It’s hard to choose. I find The Path to Nirvana quite intriguing.”
Minx!
Did she have a full grasp of its meaning? he wondered.
“The Path to Nirvana,” he repeated, thrilled by her choice. “What do you suppose it reveals about my innermost desires, Miss Dunn?”
She moistened her lips, bit down on the plump, pink flesh he was eager to suck. “My godfather said that the maiden riding the stallion to Nirvana is a metaphor for an intimate act.”
Thomas Becker had gone down another notch in Noah’s estimation, not because he was wrong. “And Mr Becker thought that an appropriate conversation to have with his charge?”
“Not at all.” The breeze whipped loose strands of hair across her face, and she laughed as she brushed them back. “He read it to his mistress. I heard him say it was a poem about a path to heightened pleasure. A poem about ecstasy.”
Fool!
“It is a poem about freedom. Freedom from constraints, yes. Strong men are happy to relinquish control. But Nirvana is a place free from worry and external pain.” A place he’d longed to visit. Indeed, he had entered the gates of paradise when nestled between Eva Dunn’s soft thighs.
She considered his words for a moment. “So, left without guidance, the stallion would simply stand in the meadow and eat the sweet grass. He would wander idly.”
“Precisely.” Oh, she understood him so well. “Instead, he is taken to paradise by the only maiden who knows the way.”
Eva swallowed visibly. “The maiden rides without a saddle. She rides bareback.”
“Because he trusts her, and longs for the intimate connection.”