Dauntless: Gentlemen of the Order - Book 1

by Clee, Adele

  Mr Smith shook his head. “No, Miss Dunn. He’s lost his mind. If he’s not for Bedlam, he’ll be for the hangman’s noose.”

  The hangman’s noose?

  Mr Hemming was a little unstable, but not to that extent. “Mr Smith, if this is a ploy to incite pity, it won’t work. Either explain yourself properly, or I shall walk away, and you may deal with Mr Ashwood.”

  Noah bared his teeth and growled.

  “You sent the first blackmail note before I terminated my contract with Mr Hemming,” she continued. “You sent it before that dreadful night, the night you witnessed the violent scene in his office.”

  Eva felt the heat of Noah’s penetrating stare. She had failed to convey the force Mr Hemming had used to pin her against the bookcase.

  The clerk dragged his hand down his face. “Mr Hemming will kill me if I tell you.”

  “And I will kill you if you don’t,” Noah countered.

  Silence ensued, but eventually Mr Smith said, “Mr H-Hemming made me write the first blackmail note.”

  “I see.” Eva wasn’t surprised. “Was it a ploy to lure me to his office?” It’s what she had first suspected.

  The clerk took to wringing his hands. “It’s more complicated. There’s more—”

  “Stop dithering and come to the bloody point!” Noah barked. He inhaled deeply before turning to Eva. “Forgive me. If he doesn’t spill his guts soon, I’m likely to throttle him.”

  The comment whipped Mr Smith into a panic. “It all started the night your brother came to the office, miss,” he gabbled.

  “My brother went to see Mr Hemming?”

  “We were working late, until the early hours. Mr Dunn arrived in a terrible state. Blood oozed from a cut above his eye, and it looked like his nose was broken.”

  “No doubt from the beating he’d had off Benham,” Noah said.

  “Or from the Turners’ men,” Mr Cole added.

  “He’d come to see if he could borrow money. That’s when he told Mr Hemming about his troubles. That’s when they came up with their cruel plan.”

  Cruel plan?

  For a moment, Eva’s world stopped spinning.

  A sudden bout of nausea made her want to heave.

  What had she done to deserve such vile treatment?

  “What sort of pl—” Her voice broke on the last word.

  Noah placed his hand at the small of her back. The comforting gesture gave her the confidence to continue.

  “What sort of plan?” she repeated.

  The clerk glanced warily at the group of men surrounding him. “Mr H-Hemming would keep your brother safe from the vicious thugs who were after him and get you to withdraw money from the bank to help pay his debts.”

  Oh, the sly scoundrels!

  “And what would Mr Hemming get in return?” she said, though it seemed fairly obvious now.

  “Mr Dunn gave his permission for you to wed Mr H-Hemming and agreed to put an announcement in The Times.”

  Eva snorted. “My brother does not decide who I marry.”

  “Once you were wed, and Mr Hemming had control, he promised to settle your brother’s debts in full. In the meantime, they arranged to frighten you into submission. The plan was you’d come running to Mr H-Hemming, desperate for his help.”

  What had once seemed like the worst of storms, terrifying and impossible to navigate, now appeared as nothing more than a light shower. Two pathetic individuals, two weak men who hadn’t an ounce of common sense between them, had sought to use her for their own gain.

  “When you say frighten me, I assume they arranged for Kathleen to steal my shoes and boots.” Lord, that meant they had hired the monster to attack her in the street.

  “They read about the murder of your cobbler and had the idea. Mr Dunn said he could get the maid to do his bidding.”

  Eva fell silent, consumed by the depth of their deception.

  So, the night she had turned to Mr Hemming for help—the night he touched her inappropriately—he was already plotting and scheming with her brother.

  Noah cleared his throat. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve come to claim the bounty. Nor does it explain why Mr Hemming has no notion you’re here.”

  “Because Smith wrote the second note without their knowledge,” Mr Daventry surmised. “He was going to take the money and run.”

  “I had no choice.” The clerk was overcome with panic again. “Mr Hemming has lost his mind, Miss Dunn. It all started the day you came to the office with Mr Ashwood. And he’s not been right since.”

  She should have known Mr Hemming would seek revenge. “Mr Hemming lost control of his faculties long ago,” she said.

  “Not like this, miss. Mr Hemming was in a devil of a temper. He wanted your brother to help kidnap you and force you into marriage, but Mr Dunn refused when he heard you were betrothed to Mr Ashwood.”

  Was it too much to hope that Howard cared, that he sought her happiness? Of course it was! She was not that naive. “Probably because he thought Mr Ashwood the better option when it comes to borrowing funds.”

  “Then he’s a fool if he believes I’d give him a damn penny,” Noah said. “I’d put him on a ship bound for the Americas before I’d fund his gambling habit.”

  If only that were possible. She would certainly sleep easier at night knowing her brother was thousands of miles away.

  “So, where is my brother now? You must have some inkling as to where he is staying.” And why hadn’t he come home?

  The clerk started shaking, shaking uncontrollably. “I—I had nothing to do with it, Miss Dunn.”

  Impatience saw Noah grab the man by his lapels. “Just tell us what the hell happened!”

  “They argued, and then—” The clerk struggled to catch his breath. “Then Mr Hemming hit Mr Dunn on the head with a paperweight.”

  The information tore a gasp from Eva’s throat. She started shaking, too. “Good heavens! Is he dead?”

  Part of her wanted the clerk to say yes. Did she not deserve some peace? Part of her hoped the answer was no. Would she not always blame herself for not dealing with Mr Hemming sooner?

  “No, he’s not dead. Mr Hemming is keeping him prisoner.” Mr Smith began whimpering like a hungry child. “He said I was guilty of aiding him and would swing from the neck, too, if caught.”

  “Hence the reason you wrote the second blackmail note,” Mr Cole added.

  Noah released the clerk and allowed him a moment to gather his composure before asking, “Where is Hemming holding him?”

  “In the a-attic,” the clerk stammered. “Above the office in Tavistock Street.”

  Chapter 19

  Despite the late hour, Tavistock Street was a hive of activity. Patrons burst from the theatres and cluttered the pavements like an army of ants. The bawds who sold their wares from alleyways and doorways snatched punters as they passed and disappeared for a five-minute fumble. Beggars loitered, waiting to accost the drunken fools stumbling from coffeehouses, brothels and gaming hells. Covent Garden was a playground for the wealthy. A hunting ground for those who made their living on the streets.

  Daventry had taken the clerk to Bow Street to make a statement, securing a case against Hemming being a priority. Sloane and D’Angelo had taken the wherry back from Temple Gardens and would arrive in Tavistock Street in due course.

  “Every instinct tells me you should wait in the carriage,” Noah said as his conveyance rolled to a stop fifty yards from the publisher’s office.

  While Eva had every right to help free her brother from his prison, he feared she might be too lenient, feared Hemming might hurt her in a bid to escape.

  “I’ll be perfectly safe,” she said, glancing at Cole and Bower seated opposite. “Besides, I presume Mr Hemming will be at home in bed at this hour.”

  Cole’s hum rang with doubt. “In my experience, a felon rarely leaves a hostage unattended. I expect Hemming will be close.”

  Beside him, Eva trembled at the mention of the p
ublisher’s name. She cast Noah a sidelong glance and smiled. “What can Mr Hemming do when I have three strong men as my protectors?”

  It was Noah’s turn to shiver. Hemming could fire a pistol in the dark and hit the wrong target. He could throw a punch. She might fall, hit her head on the grate. The rooms inside were small and cramped. How could he protect her during the mad scramble, the chaos?

  Both Bower and Cole stared at him, waiting for his reply.

  The weight of responsibility bore down on his shoulders. No man deserved to live with the pain of regret, but Eva was in just as much danger in the carriage as she was inside Hemming’s office.

  Noah met the men’s gazes. “Keep her between us at all times. I shall lead the way. Cole will take the rear. Bower, you will wait at the bottom of the stairs should Hemming or Dunn attempt to escape.”

  Both men nodded.

  They alighted the carriage, veered around the pedestrians who seemed happy to amble and were in no rush to get home. They entered the alley through the wrought-iron gate next to the apothecary. As expected, the door leading to Hemming’s premises was locked.

  “Allow me, sir,” Bower said, rummaging in the deep pocket of his greatcoat. He removed a ring of odd-shaped keys and began sifting through them.

  “We could give the door a hard kick,” Cole said.

  “What, and alert Hemming of our intentions?” Noah wanted to take Hemming by surprise. It was the best way of ensuring no harm came to the lady standing nervously beside him.

  Bower tried various keys before finally muttering that he’d found the right one. With the key firmly in the lock, he produced a length of wire and slipped it into the hole. It took a few seconds of fiddling before he opened the door leading to the narrow hall.

  “You’re wasted as a butler,” Noah whispered.

  Bower smiled. “I seem to spend more time on the streets, sir, than dressed in finery.”

  They mounted the flight of stairs cautiously, the odd board creaking beneath their feet, hoping to hell they didn’t alert Hemming. Cole and Eva waited on the landing while Noah checked the clerk’s office. Once confident there was no one hiding in the shadows, Noah eased the door closed, locked it and slipped the key into his coat pocket.

  “Do you not have a weapon?” Eva whispered, the cold grip of fear wrapped around every word.

  Noah shook his head and tapped his finger to his lips. Now was not the time to explain that a coward with a pistol would likely fire when his opponent flashed a blade.

  They crept along the landing. The door to Hemming’s office was ajar, the room beyond dark, eerily silent.

  Noah gestured to Cole, indicating he intended to examine the room before mounting the next flight of stairs. Indeed, he slipped inside and was gone less than a minute before returning and pointing to the ceiling.

  The stairs leading to the third and fourth floors were narrower. Every step creaked as they made their ascent. If Howard Dunn was being held captive in the attic, he would be expecting their arrival.

  They paused on the landing leading to two small wooden doors. Noah shrugged and motioned to the left. He tiptoed closer to the door. The absence of candlelight spilling out from the gap between the jamb and the ill-fitting frame suggested the room might be empty.

  Noah breathed to settle his racing heart and then wrapped his fingers around the handle. A faint gasp from behind made him pause and glance over his shoulder.

  Eva had covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with panic. It was as if she were about to witness her worst nightmare—a terrifying scene concocted from a wild imagination. No doubt she pictured Hemming waiting to lunge at them in the dark, bludgeon them to death. Like Noah, did she wonder if Smith had lied to lure them into a trap and both devils were hiding behind the door, eager to exact their revenge?

  But then another emotion mingled with the frantic look in her eyes. A tender emotion that squeezed his heart. She placed her hand on his arm. “Please be careful,” she mouthed. “I cannot lose you. I love you.”

  His world stopped.

  Every nerve in his body thrummed.

  The power of those last three words proved to be invigorating and crippling. They roused hope and fear. Excitement and dread. It would be so easy to run, to protect his heart. But he couldn’t live without her.

  A muffled groan echoing from beyond the paint-chipped door put paid to his need to tell her he loved her, too. A loud thud followed, like someone stomping on the boards or the weight of a body falling from a bed.

  Forced to concentrate on their present dilemma, Noah tried the door and found it locked.

  “Step back,” he said as the ghostly mumbles in the darkness grew louder. He barged the door with his shoulder, the frame splintering and snagging his coat.

  The attic room was a dingy, cluttered space, the air musty and damp. Hazy slivers of moonlight pierced through the dirty skylight, landing on the mounds of paper and books stacked high in the gloom. Broken chairs and old trunks littered the floor. Cobwebs clung to the rafters. The mumbles emanated from the truckle bed near the old shipping crates that still carried a whiff of tea.

  Guard raised, and filled with clawing apprehension, Noah approached.

  A man lay curled on the floor, his arms and legs bound with rope, a filthy rag tied around his mouth. His clothes were dusty and splattered with blood. The stench of stale sweat wafted into the air along with the sickly sweet smell of opium. Anger and frustration had the man squirming and banging his feet on the floor, though he had no hope of breaking free of his restraints.

  The light pad of footsteps behind brought Cole and Eva. Cole made a quick scan of the area before disappearing to inspect the second attic room. Eva stepped closer and stared while Noah hauled the fellow to his feet.

  “Howard,” she whispered, studying the man’s swollen face, but she did not sigh with relief. She did not race forward, desperate to untie the ropes.

  Howard Dunn was a handsome man with a weak chin and sloping shoulders, though he looked tired, pale and thin. Bruises—some small, some green, some blue—marred his cheeks and forehead. A trail of dried blood ran from a crusty clump of brown hair, down his neck, staining his shirt.

  Noah might have pitied the reprobate had he not moaned and groaned and thrust his bound hands at him, demanding he remove the constraints at once. Even with his mouth gagged and his feet secured with rope, even with the injuries that made him appear vulnerable, arrogance oozed from every fibre of his being.

  Noah was about to untie the gag when Eva said, “Wait. There’s something I want to say before he spouts his vile diatribe.” She closed the gap between them and stopped but two feet away. “You’ve been causing mischief, Howard,” she said, her tone unsurprisingly cold. “Perhaps I should just leave you to rot in the attic.”

  Dunn’s eyes grew wide, the fading bruises beneath a sure sign he’d broken his nose. He mumbled incessantly while thrusting his tied hands at Eva. He nodded and jerked his head as if pleading with his tormenter.

  “The strange thing is I don’t care about the dreadful things you’ve done to me,” she said, bitterness imbuing her tone. “I don’t care that you plotted to extort money, that you colluded with a man whose only motive is to control me.”

  As she broke for breath, the ingrate thrust his hands in her direction and mumbled like a madman.

  But then Eva slapped his face, the shock of it taking the wind from his sails. “That is for taking Mother’s jewels,” she said, her voice breaking. “Mother suffered for years before her death. I remember the day she pressed the earrings into my hand and said she hoped I might wear them on my wedding day.”

  A tear trickled down Eva’s cheek. Pain twisted around her beautiful features as grief surfaced. Noah knew the feeling well—the dreaded emptiness, the choking ache.

  Every instinct said to leave the rogue in his bug-ridden bed. He should let Bower and Cole deal with the devils and take Eva home. But then she drew her fist back and punched her bro
ther in the stomach.

  The man might have crumpled to the floor had Noah not been holding him upright.

  “That’s for Clara, not for me. I shall never forgive you for corrupting her, for luring her into one of your pathetic traps to gain funds. Lord Benham would rather his sister were ruined than have her married to a scoundrel like you.”

  Noah thought of his own mother’s plight. Perhaps he should warn Benham that some women were not strong enough to deal with shame. One had to hope that the bond with her child gave Clara Swales a reason to live.

  “As for the child you sired,” Eva continued, the tears flowing freely now. “Had I a pistol to hand, I would shoot you between the legs. No child deserves to live with the pain of having a heartless prig for a father.”

  “I second that,” Noah said, pride and love for this woman ready to burst from his chest. “Now we just need to find a pistol.”

  Eva managed a weak smile as she drew her hand across her cheeks to dry her tears. “Shall we see what he has to say for himself?” She shuffled back, keen to put a little distance between her and the unpredictable devil.

  Noah reached behind the rogue, ready to untie the filthy neckcloth used as a gag. But Howard Dunn suddenly raised his bound arms, jabbing them at Eva like a man possessed. Frightened, she shuffled back further and almost stumbled over the old trunks.

  Noah was of a mind to punch Dunn, too. “Stop whining.” He yanked the neckcloth from the fool’s mouth. “And be careful what you say else I shall shove my fist down your throat.”

  Howard Dunn gasped for breath and only managed to form a single word. A word of warning. “Hemming!”

  As if conjured from the depths of hell, Hemming suddenly sprang up from inside the trunk. Before Noah could pull his blade from his boot, Hemming grabbed Eva around the neck and pressed the muzzle of a pocket pistol to her temple.

  Cole heard Eva’s scream and came to a crashing halt in the doorway.

  “Stay back!” Hemming gathered Eva tight to his body, using her as a human shield. “Stay back else I shall shoot, and neither of us will have her.”