by Clee, Adele
With a glint of passion in her eyes, she stepped closer. She reached out and placed her hand on his waistcoat, trailed her fingers over the muscles in his abdomen.
She did not need to speak. The sound of her laboured breathing proved so erotic he was hard before she came up on her toes and kissed him.
A stolen kiss, a forbidden kiss, should be chaste and quiet and quick. But the moment their mouths met, an excitable energy exploded around them. They kissed with intemperate urgency, their bodies melding together, their hands moving rampantly, tugging clothing, touching, caressing.
But the kiss was far from chaste. Hardly quiet.
It was wild and reckless. Utter madness. Their greedy moans must have echoed through the house. They knocked over a chair in a scramble to reach the desk. He pushed papers onto the floor to clear a space, settled his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the wooden surface.
Her skirts were bunched past her knees and he was wedged between her thighs before he broke for breath.
They stopped for a second, panting, gasping, so damn hungry for each other.
Eva devoured him with her eyes, a sensual smile forming. “Things may progress beyond a kiss.”
“I hope so, as I shall die if you don’t touch me.”
She reached out and cupped the bulge straining against his breeches, massaged his erection with a few teasing strokes. “If we’re caught in a clinch, Mr Daventry will do more than remove you from the case.”
“At this present moment, I don’t give a damn.” He kissed her, drew her bottom lip between his teeth but resisted the urge to bite.
“Perhaps we might continue our display of mutual appreciation later this afternoon,” she said, mischief dancing in her eyes. “In a place where we might express ourselves fully. After all, it is Wednesday.”
While all he wanted was to strip off his clothes and make love to her on the desk, he said, “There is a secluded spot at the bottom of my garden. I’ll arrange a picnic and bring a delightful book of poems by a gentleman you know.”
“And I shall straddle your hard body while you read them.”
The comment wrenched a growl from his throat. “Just one last kiss before we go.”
“One last kiss,” she breathed, tugging his waistcoat and pulling him closer.
And so he spent the next five minutes showing her the depth of his gratitude, tasting her passionately in a bid to satisfy the crippling ache.
Chapter 15
“For my damn sake, just tell them what they want to know and let that be an end to the matter.” Lord Newberry’s frustrated demand reached Eva’s ears as she waited with Mr Cole in the hall of Lord Benham’s house in Portman Square.
The snooty butler remained as stiff as a statue beside them and made no apology for the obvious row.
“I’ll not have them question me like a criminal in my own house,” the viscount countered. “If you don’t bloody well throw them out, I will.”
“Someone attempted to murder Miss Dunn last night,” came Lord Newberry’s reply. “When they apprehended the villain, he named you as the devil who hired him. Daventry has already mentioned the matter to Sir Malcolm Langley. Look, I want these bastards off my back.”
Mr Cole glared at the study door before glancing at Eva. “Brace yourself. If he refuses to see us, I’m liable to kick down the door.”
This time the butler released a faint gasp.
Eva smiled despite Mr Cole’s gruff countenance. “These are new boots, though I’m more than happy to help, and have a reasonably good aim.”
The faintest flicker of amusement passed over Mr Cole’s features. “It may mean being arrested by a constable.”
“A travesty of justice I shall write about in any newspaper willing to publish the article. Indeed, I shall print pamphlets, stand in the street and thrust them at every passer-by.”
Mr Cole considered her through narrow eyes. “Daventry said you came to Ashwood’s defence with the same fiery passion.”
“I’ll not have Mr Ashwood demeaned when he deserves the opposite. I might have died last night had he not been there to save me.”
“The fact he was there at such an early hour of—”
A shout from the drawing room brought their conversation to a halt.
“Do they know who I am?” Lord Benham yelled.
“These bastards don’t care who you are,” Lord Newberry countered. “They find your weakness and keep stabbing with their damn blades. Just tell them what you told me.”
The loud bang and vile curse proved the last straw for Mr Cole. He stepped forward, ignoring the butler’s protests, and barged into the room.
Eva hurried along behind.
“You may have nothing better to do with your time,” Mr Cole barked, folding his muscular arms across his chest, “but I’m a busy man. I’m due at Bow Street in an hour to meet with Sir Malcolm. I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear why I kept him waiting.”
“Don’t forget your appointment with Peel, sir,” Eva added, her temper roused by the arrogant glare of both pompous lords. “You promised to explain that Lord Benham hired the thug who sought to raze my house to the ground.”
In truth, there wasn’t a magistrate in the land willing to prosecute a member of the peerage. Still, her comment ruffled Lord Benham’s feathers.
“Do you think I would take myself to the depths of the devil’s underbelly and pay a miscreant to do my bidding?” Lord Benham stared down his hooked nose. “Now get the hell out of my house.”
Panicked, Lord Newberry tried to reason with his friend. “Just tell them about the last time you saw Howard Dunn, and that will be the end of the matter.”
“Listen to your friend, Benham.” Mr Cole’s tone was as menacing as the look in his eyes. “Prove your innocence else I fear Ashwood will call you out for insulting his mother, and for the shocking way you treated Miss Dunn. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of his skill with a pistol.”
Lord Benham gritted his teeth, though uncertainty flashed in his eyes.
Eva hurried forward. “Be assured, my lord, my brother is no longer welcome in my house. It is only a matter of time before someone beats him to death and throws his body in the Thames. But do I deserve to suffer because of his foolish actions?”
The viscount sneered. “You’re not the only person suffering, Miss Dunn. Why should you sleep peacefully when someone else must forever hide in the shadows?”
Hypocrite!
“Had you won the bet, my lord, you would be guilty of sentencing me to the same fate. But I suppose you do not consider my life as important.”
The viscount remained silent.
“Did you pay someone to attack Miss Dunn’s home?” Mr Cole snapped. “Was your mind clouded with the need for vengeance?”
“I know you hate me,” Eva blurted, unable to suppress the sudden rush of emotion. There had been too many problems to deal with of late. “But do you really wish me dead?”
A muscle twitched beneath the viscount’s beady left eye. “I do not hate you, Miss Dunn. I’m simply unused to rejection.”
Eva took another tentative step closer. “Please, my lord. They say a kindness bestowed is repaid tenfold. Tell me what you know about my brother.”
“Just tell her!” Lord Newberry interjected. It was plain to see he had his own interests at heart.
Lord Benham shot his friend an irate glare before turning to Eva. “I did see him in Cockburns, but not on the night I mentioned. It was two weeks ago now.”
Eva’s blood boiled. Her brother was an utter buffoon. “He was still gambling despite his mounting debts?”
“Gambling with what pittance he had left in his pocket. The proprietor refused to extend his credit.”
“And did you speak to him?” Eva asked.
Lord Benham marched to the side table and unstoppered a crystal decanter. “I left before he did, waited in the alley.” He filled a goblet with brandy, swallowed the contents and hissed a breath. “Dunn
sauntered past as if he hadn’t a care in the world, while my sister—”
The viscount refilled his glass and emptied it just as quickly.
“Did you speak to him, my lord?”
“Speak to him?” the viscount mocked. “No, Miss Dunn, I dragged him into the alley and gave him the beating of his life.”
Eva sucked in a sharp breath.
“Did you kill him?” Mr Cole asked, though he sounded almost resigned to the fact the viscount would not admit liability.
“When he said he would marry Clara if I paid his debts and gave him a handsome monthly allowance, I considered squeezing the last breath from his lungs.” Lord Benham gave a hard, cold-eyed smile. “But two knife-wielding thugs approached. They took Howard Dunn along with my signet ring and purse. I’ve not seen or heard from him since. I imagine they fed his carcass to a pack of wild dogs in the fighting pits.”
The knowledge brought a surge of bile to Eva’s throat. Yes, she wanted nothing more to do with her brother. But to know he met such a grisly end, made her sick to her stomach.
“When was this?” Mr Cole asked, unperturbed by the news.
“As I said, two weeks ago.” The viscount refilled his glass and swallowed his resentment for the third time. “So you see, why would I hire someone to hurt Miss Dunn when I’m convinced her brother is dead?”
But if Howard was dead, who sent the blackmail note? Who demanded Kathleen gather Eva’s shoes and dump them in a coal sack? Who started the fire in her brother’s bedchamber?
“Besides,” the viscount continued, “Clara would never forgive me if something happened to Miss Dunn.”
For a moment, Eva just stared. So, it was all well and good to make her his mistress but not murder her in her bed. This vile creature was unaware of his own hypocrisy. That said, he certainly seemed to care for his sister. So much so, at some point, Eva might hope for a reunion with her friend.
“Thank you,” Eva forced herself to say, knowing she would have to deal with this man if she wanted to see Clara and the child. She turned to Mr Cole. “Is there anything more you wish to ask?”
Mr Cole studied the viscount through suspicious eyes and said, “I’d like a brief description of the kidnappers. But otherwise, no. I’m satisfied we’ve heard the truth.”
“Very well,” the lord countered and proceeded to divulge characteristics that might apply to hundreds of men from the rookeries. “Now, if you’ve quite finished, get the hell out of my house.”
Lord Benham’s butler seemed just as relieved as Eva when she stepped over the threshold and out onto Portman Square. She took a moment to draw a deep breath, though terrible images of savage dogs bombarded her mind.
“Do those in the criminal underworld really throw their enemies into the fighting pits?” she asked Mr Cole. Try as she might, she could not banish the gory visions from her head. “Are men really so barbaric?”
“Some men rule by fear and have—” Mr Cole began, but Noah’s coachman waved to capture his attention. Mr Cole marched towards the carriage and said, “What is it, McGuffey?”
“It’s Mr Ashwood, sir. He saw someone watching the carriage.” McGuffey was a young man with a kind, moon-shaped face. “He said he saw the same fellow outside his house this morning and took off after the blighter.”
“Took off?” Mr Cole firmed his jaw and scanned the street. “Where?”
“They ran towards Seymour Street, sir.” McGuffey pointed ahead. “He chased the cove into the mews.”
“Wait here, Miss Dunn.” Mr Cole darted away a mere second after issuing the command.
Surely he didn’t expect her to sit in the carriage when she might help calm Noah’s temper? Besides, the thought of sitting alone outside Lord Benham’s house filled her with dread.
“I shall follow them, McGuffey.” Eva raised the hem of her skirts and was already hurrying away when she called over her shoulder, “Park the carriage on Seymour Street and wait there.”
When Eva arrived at the mews, Noah and Mr Cole were already walking back through the cobbled alley. There was no sign of the cove mentioned. She took one look at Noah and knew something was seriously amiss. He strode towards her, hands fisted at his sides, a murderous look in his eyes, a silent rage building. She would not be surprised if he suddenly charged towards her, sword raised, screaming a battle cry.
Sick with worry, she looked to Mr Cole. “Wh-what happened?”
“We have another call to make,” came Mr Cole’s grave reply. “I would suggest you remain in the carriage when we visit Duke Street, but I expect we will need your calming influence.”
Noah remained eerily quiet. The muscles in his shoulders were tight and tense, and she doubted he could grit his teeth any harder.
“Who lives in Duke Street?”
“A dead man,” Noah muttered, looking straight through her.
“Hawkridge,” Mr Cole informed.
“The man you chased worked for your uncle?” Fearing the worst, she peered beyond Noah’s broad shoulders. Deep down, she knew he would never take his grievance out on the man paid to spy. “Where is the fellow now?”
“He escaped through the alley into Berkeley Street.” Mr Cole’s strained voice brimmed with apprehension.
They returned to the carriage and Noah assisted Eva’s ascent. His gentle hand on her back was so opposed to the anger radiating.
They barely spoke during the forty minutes it took McGuffey to navigate the mile and a half across town. Despite the many stops and starts as they journeyed through the bustling streets, nothing calmed Noah’s temper.
“Assist Miss Dunn from the carriage, Cole,” came Noah’s barked instruction as he vaulted to the pavement and marched towards the impressive facade of Number 5 Duke Street.
“Ashwood can appear rather brusque when in a temper,” Mr Cole said, sounding almost friendly. “You must understand that his uncle has caused no end of trouble since inheriting the title.”
Eva placed a comforting hand on Mr Cole’s arm, and the man recoiled. “Sir, I know what it’s like to suffer because of a bothersome family member. Nothing Mr Ashwood could say or do would change my good opinion of him.”
Mr Cole gave a curt nod, and they moved to stand behind the gentleman hammering the brass knocker as if he wished to wake the dead.
A footman dressed in blue livery opened the door. His concerned frown became a welcoming smile, and he gazed at Mr Ashwood as if he were the prodigal son returned.
“I trust Hawkridge is at home.”
“Yes, sir.” The eager footman stepped back from the door and bid them entrance. “Knowles will announce you at once.”
Noah patted the servant on the upper arm, and for the briefest moment his anger dissipated. “It’s good to see you, William.”
“Likewise, sir.” The footman lowered his voice. “Things aren’t the same here since his lordship’s passing.”
“No. My grandfather was such a lively fellow. I imagine the house feels empty without him.”
“Terribly so, sir.”
The grey-haired butler appeared, his proud bearing softening the moment he laid eyes on Noah. “Mr Ashwood.” The older man’s smile was blinding. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon, Knowles. I’m here to see my uncle, though I should warn you the visit will be unpleasant.”
Both servants seemed rather pleased at the prospect.
“You won’t want tea then, sir,” Knowles teased.
“Not unless you wish to see the best china smashed into a hundred pieces.” Noah clasped the older man’s shoulder and lowered his voice, “Now, I wish to save you both from bearing the brunt of your master’s wrath, so we’ll play the usual game.”
Both men nodded.
A few seconds of silence ensued before Noah suddenly shouted, “Move out of my way! You’ll let me in, else I shall take the damn door off its hinges.”
“But, sir!” Knowles cried while William thumped the door and rattled the knocker. “Wait here!
Let me see if the master is at home!”
“I know he’s here. I want to see Hawkridge. Now!”
Knowles smiled and pointed to the study door. “Sir! You can’t go in there. Not without an appointment.”
A painfully thin lady with a solemn face appeared at the top of the stairs, though she made no attempt to control the situation.
Noah charged towards the door and marched into the room.
Mr Cole gestured for Eva to follow.
“What the devil do you mean barging in here like you own the house?” Lord Hawkridge slammed his hand on the desk and jumped from the chair in protest. “Knowles! Knowles! Call the constable!”
“Yes, call the damn constable.” Fists clenched, Noah rounded the desk. “I have evidence my uncle has committed a crime.”
The lord’s eyes widened in shock as Noah grabbed the pompous oaf by his lapels and dragged him to the plush bergere chair near the hearth.
“Get your damn hands off me,” Lord Hawkridge warned, though his outrage was but a flicker of a spark compared to Noah’s roaring flame.
Noah threw his uncle into the seat. “I’ve just questioned your hired lackey, Eric Blighty. He admitted following me to Miss Dunn’s house, spoke of a visit to Southwark last night.”
Lord Hawkridge sneered, though his beady brown eyes shifted rapidly. “Blighty? I’ve never heard of the devil.”
“I suppose you know nothing about him meeting a gang who work near the Wheatsheaf Brewery.” Noah braced his hands on the arms of the chair and pressed closer to the quivering lord. “Nothing about him paying a thug to hurl a bottle through Miss Dunn’s window.”
Eva gasped upon hearing the news.
Lord Hawkridge hired the thug?
Why would the peer wish to harm her?
“I h-haven’t the faintest clue what you’re t-talking about,” came the lord’s stammering reply. “Like your father, you’re a trouble starter who seeks to cause mischief.”
Noah ground his teeth. “Every twitch and pained expression says you’re lying.”
“It won’t be difficult to find the villain,” Mr Cole said. “Peel’s vow to tackle organised gangs is crucial to reform. And men like that are quick to blab if it means escaping the noose.”
