by Clee, Adele
Shame burned Eva’s cheeks. While living in her house, Howard had been secretly manipulating her staff. Just because he was the older brother, that did not give him the right to do as he pleased.
“As I'm the mistress of this house, you should have told me.”
“The master said I’d lose my position if I didn’t do as he said.”
“The master!” Anger flared. “My brother is not the master here. And I can assure you, if he is alive, he can find somewhere else to rest his lousy limbs. I want his things packed, his room emptied.”
“Perhaps you should take a moment and have a sip of port,” Mr Ashwood said calmly.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” Henry blurted. “This whole business has left my nerves in tatters.”
“I was speaking to your mistress, Henry. We can discuss settling your nerves once you’ve explained what happened to the documents entrusted to your care.”
Henry seemed reluctant to speak. He pressed his lips together so tightly she doubted the Spanish Inquisition could part them.
“If you fail to offer an explanation, Henry,” Eva said, “I shall be forced to let you go.”
An inner conflict saw the man scratch his head, rub his neck and tug at his ear. Eventually, he said, “Kathleen was going out to run errands and said she would take them.”
“Kathleen? You gave the letters to Kathleen?”
“Yes, ma’am. I know I shouldn’t have, but the locksmith is coming tomorrow, and Bardsley said I’m to watch him like a hawk. It meant having to do more chores this morning.”
“You’ve arranged to have the locks changed?” Mr Ashwood interjected.
She cast him a sidelong glance. He was so relaxed, so composed.
“It’s a dreadful expense, but I thought it best.”
“I agree.” Mr Ashwood turned his attention to her footman, his countenance darkening dramatically. “Do not give your mistress cause to doubt your loyalty again.”
“N-no, sir,” came Henry’s shaky reply.
“Now, I am sure Miss Dunn would like to speak to Kathleen as a matter of urgency. Might you be trusted to fetch her?”
Henry nodded, but then hesitated. He looked to Eva and waited for confirmation, an act that brought a satisfied smile to Mr Ashwood’s tempting lips.
“You may leave,” she said. “Inform Kathleen that I wish to speak to her at once. You’re not to leave her alone, not for a second, but must escort her here yourself.”
Henry bowed and left the room.
“Your brother has a lot to answer for,” Mr Ashwood said. “I’m inclined to give him a thorough beating though I bet his skin is as thick as his skull.”
“I don’t care what you do as long as I never have to set eyes on him again.” She stared at the man who had broken his pledge, though she was far from annoyed. “You said you would remain silent while I questioned the staff.”
He gave a half shrug. “I did. It was my heart that jumped to your defence. This case will soon be over, and I’ll not have you suffer for their foolishness again.”
She might have teased him, joked that he had no heart, but the feeling behind the comment held her enchanted. Mr Ashwood cared. He intervened, not because it was the logical thing to do, but because his emotions were engaged. He certainly kissed her like he wanted to twine souls.
Hmm.
She considered asking him to spend the night.
But of course she couldn’t.
Lust had robbed her of all reason. Yet her desire for him went beyond a physical need. Deeper affections were engaged. She cared for him, too, far too much.
“I’m not as weak as you think,” she said, though everyone seemed to ride roughshod over her. That’s what came from being a woman with a kind heart. Men took advantage.
“I don’t think you’re weak. We live in a world where men have power. Hemming and Benham seek to assert their authority. They’ve learnt to get what they want through manipulation and fear.”
“Then you must think me foolish for continually placing myself in harm’s way.” So many times, she had wanted to punch Mr Hemming on the nose and curse him to the devil. “But an unmarried lady has to provide for herself.”
“I have no concept of what it’s like to deal with lecherous men while trying to make a living.”
“It’s like a recurring nightmare.”
“It’s easy for me. I can defend my honour, fight with swords or pistols, wrestle naked in the park at dawn. You’re forced to endure the torment or take undesirable work.”
It was a serious point, and yet one particular piece of information left her intrigued. “You’ve stripped off your clothes and wrestled naked in the park?”
“Clothes can be restrictive. As I’m sure you discovered tonight.”
Oh, did he have to allude to their kiss?
Her raging pulse had only just settled.
“Why do you seek to tease me?”
“I’m not teasing you, Eva. You deserve honesty from a man.” He smoothed his hand down his muscular thigh. “All night, I’ve wanted to slip that silk gown off your shoulders, slide it down over every sweet curve until it’s a claret pool on the floor.”
Mother Mary!
Eva drew in a deep breath, but it barely filled her lungs. Her gown felt too tight, a dreadful inconvenience.
“You wish to wrestle with me, too?”
Mr Ashwood’s emerald eyes glazed. “In a fashion. I want to make love to you, Eva.” His voice was hypnotic. “I want mine to be the name on your lips when you reach the height of your pleasure.”
Good heavens!
He made sin sound divine.
“Isn’t the nomad afraid the reality will fall short of the dream?”
“I believe he might be about to have his awakening. To be blunt, madam, this nomad wants to plunge into the pool and wallow in the waters.”
A knock on the door broke the spell, though Eva’s blood burned with a ferocity she struggled to contain.
“Come,” she called, almost choking on the word.
Kathleen shuffled into the room, her clumsy gait a means to incite pity. The maid’s mouth and shoulders sagged, but Eva felt nothing but the potent thrum of desire. The need for physical pleasure proved overwhelming. The heat pooling in her sex made it hard to stand still. Indeed, she considered telling Kathleen they would discuss the matter in the morning.
“I expect you want to know why I didn’t deliver the letters to Hart Street, ma’am,” Kathleen said, spoiling Eva’s erotic fantasy. “I expect you’ll dismiss me without a reference.”
“I expect I will,” Eva said sharply. No longer would she put other people’s feelings before her own.
Shocked upon hearing the admission, Kathleen burst into tears.
It was another ploy to gain sympathy.
Eva waited for the maid to stop blubbering. She did not offer a comforting arm or a consolatory handkerchief. No. Her patience had worn thin. All she truly cared about was continuing the arousing conversation with Noah Ashwood.
“I burnt the letters,” Kathleen said between wet sniffs. “I did it for love, ma’am.”
Mr Ashwood’s mocking snort was audible.
“For love?” Eva stiffened. An arctic wind swept through her, banishing all amorous thoughts of the virile gentleman on the sofa. “Please tell me you’re not talking about my brother.”
The tight knot in her chest said this had everything to do with Howard.
“People misunderstand him, ma’am.”
Oh, for the love of God!
“Then I suggest you start at the beginning.” Eva snatched the port wine glass off the side table and swallowed a mouthful. The rich liquid warmed her throat. “I suggest you start at the point where my brother seduced you.”
Kathleen smoothed her golden hair from her face—Howard enjoyed corrupting the angelic types—and her eyes turned dreamy. “No one has ever spoken to me the way Howard does, ma’am. He’s so kind, so responsible.”
Was it poss
ible for someone to be so misguided?
Compared to Kathleen, Mr Hemming seemed rational.
“Oh, he’s responsible,” Eva mocked, “responsible for causing a mountain of misery.”
“I know you were upset when he took the money, ma’am, but—”
“I don’t give a damn about the money,” she snapped. “I care that he stole my mother’s jewels. I care that he preys on innocent women. I’ll never forgive him for that.”
No. Howard Dunn was no longer her brother.
In truth, she hoped they never found him.
“But don’t you see?” Kathleen pleaded. “He was just trying to make things right. He was heartbroken when Mr Becker died. Grief does strange things to a man.”
Mr Ashwood’s weary sigh breezed through the room. “Grief made him gamble away every penny he owned?” Cynicism dripped from every word. “Grief made him abuse women and steal from his own kin?”
“Yes, sir, but he wished to make amends. That’s why I couldn’t take the letters to Hart Street. If Howard sent the blackmail note, it was because he was desperate.”
“So you do think he sent it,” Mr Ashwood countered.
Kathleen shrugged.
“But I checked the note against a copy of my brother’s handwriting.” Eva had spent hours examining every flourish. Instinct said Howard was guilty. But try as she might, she could not ignore the stark differences. Howard wrote with the same flamboyant air he did most things. “Howard did not write the note. Or if he did, he wrote it under duress.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say, ma’am. Howard is in trouble.”
One did not need to be a wise seer to determine that.
“Why else would he have made such a silly demand?” Kathleen continued.
“What silly demand?”
Kathleen squirmed. “I—I have a confession, ma’am, one that will make Bardsley take his foot to my behind. It’s … It’s about the theft of your boots.”
In the brief second of calm, Eva realised that emotions were highly volatile. A few ill-timed words could turn burning desire into violent rage.
“I swear, I shall take my own foot to your behind.” Eva’s cheeks flamed as she tried to control her temper. “Mr Ashwood’s time is precious. There are poor people without means who should be making use of his skills. Every problem he attempts to solve leads him back to you.” She shot the gentleman an apologetic look. “Forgive me.”
“It is not your fault,” he said tenderly.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it was a matter of life or death.”
“So Howard Dunn is alive,” Mr Ashwood stated calmly. “Other than one unreliable sighting, no one has heard from him in two weeks. I find it odd his clothes are still in the armoire.”
Kathleen shrugged and started sniffling again. “A boy brought this last week, ma’am.” She reached into her apron pocket and moved to hand Eva a crumpled note.
“Give it to Mr Ashwood. I haven’t got my spectacles, and I’m so angry, I cannot focus.”
Mr Ashwood leant forward and took the note. He read it twice.
“It’s from Howard. He instructed Kathleen to take your boots and shoes, put them in a coal sack and drop them into the garden of Number 12. Apparently, he did not sell your mother’s jewels but hid them in the heels of your boots.”
“Hid them? But that’s impossible.” Eva considered the pretty topaz and cannetille necklace. “The heels are too shallow. The soles on some are too flimsy. And why would he do that when I might send them to the cobbler?”
“I agree. It makes no sense.”
Silence descended.
Mr Ashwood rubbed his sculpted jaw while lost in thought.
Kathleen’s snivelling continued.
Then another thought struck her. “You don’t think Howard hid the jewels in the pair I sent to the cobbler?” An icy shiver shot from her neck to her navel. “You don’t think he got into a fight when he tried to reclaim—”
“Don’t torment yourself with stories,” Mr Ashwood said. “From what I’ve heard of your brother, murder is the only sin of which he is ignorant.” Mr Ashwood pushed to his feet. “Excuse me a moment. I need to check something in your brother’s room.”
And with that, the gentleman left them.
The question that had been dancing on Eva’s lips for the last two minutes demanded an audience. “Are you with child? Is that why you risked everything to help him?”
Kathleen broke into a whimper. “I thought so, ma’am, but no.”
“And you’ve had relations here, under my roof?”
A solemn nod was the maid’s only reply.
Contempt for her brother surfaced.
Had it not been for Mr Becker’s promise to her mother, Eva would be working in service. Ensconced in his villa in Italy, her father hadn’t paid her allowance in years. Everything she owned was thanks to Mr Becker’s generosity. Writing had been the answer to her misfortune, a chance to earn an income, be independent. But in the end, she was no different from Kathleen. A man with a mind for seduction had sought to control her, to spoil her prospects, too.
Mr Ashwood returned, dragging Eva out of her melancholy. He carried an old pair of boots that were in fashion long before the turn of the century. Perhaps Howard liked to think of himself as a dashing Cavalier.
“Did you find those in Howard’s room?” Eva couldn’t imagine Howard owning something so terribly passé.
“They were hidden behind his polished Hessians.” Mr Ashwood reached into his own boot and withdrew a blade.
Kathleen gasped in fright.
Eva couldn’t admire the gentleman more if she tried.
“The heel is loose.” Mr Ashwood used the blade to wedge the heel from the sole. “The nails have been removed before.” Indeed, the boot came apart in his hands.
Something shiny and beautiful, something that sparkled beneath the soft glow of candlelight, fell to the floor.
Mr Ashwood discarded the boot and scooped up the rose-cut diamond earrings. He crossed the room, captured Eva’s hand and placed them gently into her palm.
“These belong to you,” he said in the slow hypnotic way that teased her senses. “With luck, we’ll find the other stolen items, too.”
For a moment she couldn’t breathe.
Finding the earrings brought happiness beyond measure. And yet it was the way Mr Ashwood held her hand—as if she were as delicate and as precious as her mother’s diamond jewels—that made her eyes widen in wonder.
“You may leave, Kathleen,” Eva said, though it was Mr Ashwood who commanded her full attention. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. Her desire for the man had been simmering since their passionate kiss. Since his daring declaration.
The maid sobbed. “Leave the house, ma’am?”
“Return to your room tonight. We will discuss your employment tomorrow.”
“Oh, thank you, ma’am. I swear—”
“Good night, Kathleen.”
The maid hurried from the room, her loud sniffs echoing through the hall.
“Based on the note, we must assume your brother is alive and hiding from those who seek to do him harm.” Noah Ashwood ran his finger slowly over the sparkling earrings nestled in her palm. “I believe your brother blabbed to one of his creditors, told them the gems were hidden in your boots to bide time.”
“That’s a logical assumption.”
“It’s perhaps the only logical thought I’ve had all evening.”
“Your mind is distracted?”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “My mind has been preoccupied ever since you mentioned a poison that can kill a man in seconds.”
Eva arched a brow. “You fear I might kill you, Mr Ashwood?”
“I’ve spent sleepless nights imagining all the ways you might.” He stroked her cheek, his vibrant green eyes possessing a sensual glint that made her shiver. “But it’s late. I should leave you.”
And yet she sensed his hesitation.
&nbs
p; Amid all this mess, she knew one thing with absolute certainty. She wanted Noah Ashwood in every wicked way. She wanted to see his clothes flung about the floor, wanted to mould her body to his, feel his heat searing her skin. She wanted to know what it was like to feel pleasure from a man’s touch. Life was precarious. What if she never felt this way again?
And so she inhaled deeply and said, “Stay.”
Chapter 12
Stay!
The word wrapped around his heart with the same steely grip it did his cock. It was a tempting invitation. A host of erotic images bombarded his mind. He wanted Evangeline Dunn. He wanted to consume her, claim her, drive deep into her sumptuous body. He wanted to care for her, protect her, which was the most worrying part of this whole affair.
And it would be an affair.
A wild, passionate affair.
No longer could he deny his craving.
But Bower would know he’d spent the night, would reveal all to Lucius Daventry in the morning. Noah supposed he could devise a stratagem, leave the house, enter the alley leading to Castle Street, clamber over the wall into the garden of Number 12. But he refused to sneak about like a randy young buck.
Sod Daventry. Noah had proved himself to the Order a hundred times or more. Despite his need to help victims of crime, he could not temper his feelings for Miss Dunn.
But appeasing Daventry wasn’t his only problem. The maid’s confession led him to believe the Turners were responsible for attacking Eva in the street. The only way to prove the theory was to visit the stench-filled Rosemary Lane—home of The Compass Inn.
But he would deal with the issue tomorrow.
“You must think me extremely forward,” she said when he failed to reply, her body stiffening as if fighting the first stab of humiliation.
“On the contrary. It just occurred to me that I have been negligent during this investigation.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Negligent? You? That’s absurd.”
“Yes, shocking, I know. But I failed to examine a vital piece of evidence.” It was a mistake he was about to rectify. “I should have conducted a thorough inspection of your thigh. It’s an important factor I’ve overlooked.”
She swallowed. “An extremely important factor.”
