by Clee, Adele
“You trust my word regarding Diable?”
The brother gave a sinister grin. “You’re not a fool. A lie to a Turner is like a death wish.” And with that, he turned on his heel and sauntered back to his corner table.
Noah and Cole left the subdued crowd in the tavern and rejoined the recalcitrant mob on the streets. They spent the brief walk back to Tower Hill discussing what they knew about Howard Dunn.
“He has to be the one who sent the blackmail note,” Noah said. Howard Dunn would wish he’d been captured by the Turners when Noah was finished with him. “And you’re certain he has no friends who might have provided lodgings?”
“Quite certain. Most people gave him the cut when they learned he owed money to unscrupulous lenders.”
“Then he is living somewhere in town. Somewhere close to Temple Gardens by my reckoning.”
Thankfully, they reached the carriage without incident. Noah instructed McGuffey to take Cole to Golden Square before returning to Wigmore Street.
They sat in companionable silence as the carriage rumbled through the dim thoroughfares. Noah’s thoughts turned to the enchanting woman waiting for him at home. The profound yearning made him think of Cole’s plight.
“I know I insisted Lady Adair play chaperone,” Noah began in a bid to gauge his friend’s reaction, “but I’m surprised she made herself available at such short notice.”
Cole was no fool. He could spot a poacher’s trap hidden in the undergrowth from a hundred yards. “I presume she attends every major function. It would have been no hardship.”
“I didn’t mean to make things awkward, but knew she would assist you without question.” One only had to spend a few minutes in a room with Sophia and Cole to feel the tension, the desperation, the suppressed passion in the air.
Cole turned and stared out of the window. “I’ve no desire to discuss my relationship with Sophia Adair.” His voice held a steely edge. “The matter is closed. Done. One cannot alter the past.”
And yet the past tormented him, ate away at his soul. As Cole’s friend, Noah felt compelled to help him find peace.
Noah stared through the gloom. “You did nothing wrong. You were not to blame.”
Cole released a sigh. “Sophia thought I was dead. She explained her reasons for marrying, and I respect them.”
No. Deep down, he was still hurt, still bitter. “I’m not talking about Sophia.” He was talking about the woman Cole married while still nursing a broken heart. “I’m talking about your wife. I’m talking about Hannah.”
The atmosphere in the carriage changed instantly. Noah could feel the panic, could sense the crippling torment before Cole shot forward in the seat and rapped hard on the roof.
“I cannot do this now,” Cole said as the carriage came crashing to a halt. “I shall meet you in Hart Street tomorrow as planned.” And with that, Cole vaulted to the pavement, slammed the door and stalked off into the night.
Noah spent the rest of the journey struggling to know how to help his friend. Cole’s grief had as much to do with his failings as it did the loss of his wife.
It was almost midnight by the time the carriage rolled up outside Noah’s home on Wigmore Street. No doubt Eva was asleep, and yet his need to ease the insistent ache saw him approach her bedchamber.
The soft glow of candlelight crept through the gap beneath the door, sending his heart lurching. The splash of water reached his ears along with the melodic voice that drew him like a siren’s song.
He knocked on the door. “Eva. May I come in?” The question had a sexual connotation, and he imagined driving deep into her welcoming body, banishing all his woes.
“Noah?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, come in.”
Excitement thrummed in his veins as he turned the doorknob and entered the room. The lady was lounging in a bathtub near the fire, her bare skin glistening in the light of the dancing flames. Her hair was tied loosely, teasing tendrils caressing the elegant column of her throat. Firm, round breasts bobbed in the water, dusky pink nipples peeking above the surface. Never had he seen a more alluring sight.
“I feel like a nomad stumbling upon a glistening oasis,” he said. Indeed, his mouth was so damn dry. “Is it not a little late to bathe?”
“I wished to occupy myself while waiting for you. Would you care to slip into my water? It’s still warm, and you look like you need something to relax those tight muscles.”
There was a lightness in the air, a playful energy that soothed the soul and brought instant solace. He could get used to having her in his home. He could get used to this feeling of contentment.
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What happened at The Compass Inn?”
“By all accounts, your brother is alive.” He hoped the information brought relief, though he couldn’t help but experience some trepidation. “He escaped his kidnappers, though one wonders why he did not return home.”
“Because Howard is the blackmailer,” she said, rising out of the water like a goddess of the sea.
Water trickled over every inch of her skin, dripping from the delightful pink nipples he was eager to suck. He tried to ignore the purple bruise marring her thigh. Howard Dunn would pay for that, too, once Noah caught the blighter.
Eva slipped into her wrapper but did not tie the silk belt. She padded over to him, kissed him in the slow, open-mouthed way that conveyed abiding affection.
“Come. The water will ease the tension,” she said, smoothing her hands over his tight shoulders. “We will worry about Howard tomorrow. When we catch him at Temple Gardens, I think we should take him to Sir Malcolm. A stint in the Marshalsea might teach my brother a lesson.”
Noah might have challenged her opinion had she not begun to unbutton his waistcoat in the brazen way that sent his thoughts scattering. He might have questioned why a man drowning in debt would demand a measly thousand pounds.
But then Eva tugged his shirt from his breeches and ran her hand over his erection. And for the next two hours, he forgot anyone else in the world existed.
Chapter 18
It was three in the afternoon when Henry arrived in Wigmore Street in a state of blind panic. Eva’s footman could barely catch his breath as he stood in Noah’s drawing room, shaking and clutching a note.
“Just take a moment,” Eva said. The poor man’s face glowed beetroot-red. Beads of sweat clung to his brow. “Did you run the whole way?” It must be nigh on two miles to Brownlow Street.
“Yes, ma’am,” he panted, struggling to maintain the decorum expected from one’s footman.
Noah strode to the row of decanters on the side table and splashed brandy into a crystal goblet. “Here, swallow this.” He offered Henry the goblet and waited for him to down the contents before returning the glass to the tray.
The spirit calmed the footman. “Mr Hemming c-called, ma’am.”
Hearing the devil’s name chilled Eva’s blood. “Yes, and what did he want?”
“He heard about the fire and came to offer his assistance.”
Had suspicion for the arson attack not fallen on Lord Hawkridge, Eva might easily blame a coward like Mr Hemming for the dreadful deed.
“I told him you weren’t at home, ma’am, but he barged into the house and insisted on waiting for your return.”
The man was a damn menace. A veritable pest. “And where did he wait?”
Suspicion sparked. She would lay odds the publisher used the opportunity to search her study. He was obsessed with her stories, kept demanding to read her current work in progress.
“In the study, ma’am.”
Conniving devil!
“Bardsley caught him rummaging through your desk and told him to leave,” Henry continued, “but Mr Hemming got angry. He said he wasn’t leaving until he’d spoken to you.”
A hard lump formed in her throat. “Please tell me you didn’t give him this address.”
“Hemming won�
��t dare approach my door,” Noah said, confident in his assertion.
Henry shook his head. “Bardsley said you were staying with friends.”
Eva sighed. “Mr Hemming knows I have no friends.”
“Yes, ma’am. He started ranting and raving that an evil schemer had taken advantage of your good nature.” Henry glanced at Noah. “No offence meant, sir. I’m just stating what the man said.”
“None taken. Though I wonder if it occurred to you that Hemming might have followed you here.”
“That’s why I ran, sir. Mr Hemming wrote this note and asked me to deliver it to Miss Dunn.” Henry stepped forward and handed Eva the note. “After seeing Mr Hemming’s wild temper, Bardsley said to wait half an hour before leaving.”
Eva shivered. It was as if Mr Hemming stood behind her, his icy fingers trailing down her spine. “You’re certain he didn’t follow you?”
“He did follow me, ma’am, that’s why I ran. But I lost him in Queen Street by cutting through the warrens around Seven Dials.”
Eva looked to Noah, who seemed unperturbed by the news. She donned her spectacles, broke the seal and took a moment to read the missive. A hollow pit opened in her stomach as she absorbed the words on the page. Good grief! The man had lost his mind. Madness had consumed his spirit and turned him into a blithering idiot.
“Thank you, Henry,” she said, drowning in disbelief.
Noah knew something was amiss and so said to her footman, “Visit the kitchen and Cook will feed you. And have my butler, Kenning, give you the fare for a hackney ride home.”
Henry bowed. “Thank you, sir. And may I ask what I should tell Mr Hemming if he returns?”
“Tell him you will call the constable the next time he forces his way into the house,” Noah replied. “I shall have a man come to stay for a few days until we resolve the matter. You may go.”
Henry bowed and left.
“Well?” Noah said. “What devilment is Hemming spouting now?”
Eva took a moment to compose herself before saying, “Unless I break our betrothal and marry Mr Hemming, he will file papers stating he writes under the pseudonym Cain Dunnavan. He intends to take ownership of my work.”
“But that’s absurd,” Noah said, though he seemed remarkably calm. “It’s just a ploy to get your attention. Once we’ve dealt with your brother tonight, we shall visit Mr Hemming. And when we meet Mr Lydford tomorrow, he will advise you on the best course of action to take.”
Eva wished she had his confidence and composure. But she had experienced Mr Hemming’s manipulative tactics firsthand. The man was obsessed with his own self-importance, felt he had a right of entitlement. He exploited others without conscience or shame.
“You have nothing to fear from Mr Hemming,” Noah said, for he must have sensed her anxiety. He stood and offered his hand. “Come. We’re due in Hart Street in an hour. When it comes to our rendezvous in Temple Gardens, Daventry will want to ensure the plan is flawless.”
Eva slipped her hand into his, but his warm grip did not banish the sense of dread. No matter how much they planned, they could not predict every eventuality.
“Howard is an imbecile,” she said, “but is desperate for funds.” Why else would her brother continue to hide in the shadows? “Bear in mind he is capable of anything.”
Noah brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Don’t worry about Howard. He won’t hurt you. Besides, I have no intention of letting you out of my sight.”
* * *
They arrived at Fountain Court from different directions long before the stroke of midnight. Eva, Noah and Mr Cole came by carriage and alighted on Bouverie Street, cutting through King’s Bench Walk amid the formidable shadows of buildings occupying the hallowed ground. Mr Sloane and Mr D’Angelo arrived by wherry and had been instructed to pay the waterman to wait. Mr Daventry and Bower arrived via the narrow alley leading from The Strand.
Amid the shady walks and gloomy buildings surrounding Middle Temple, the small fountain burst from the flagged courtyard like an oasis deep in the desert. And yet the constant trickle of water brought no comfort, no lasting relief. Indeed, the eerie atmosphere only added to Eva’s fear of impending danger.
They spent ten minutes waiting for everyone to arrive before depositing the valise near the ancient oak tree and taking their positions. Time ticked by slowly. The agonising wait was akin to teetering on a precipice, wondering when one might fall.
“What time is it?” she whispered as they hid near the steps between Fountain Court and the gardens.
The light breeze brought the fragrant smell of summer flowers—mignonette and chrysanthemums—though the sweet scent did nothing to alleviate her unease.
“There’s no point pulling out my watch,” Noah said, his gaze fixed on the leather valise.
Mr Cole had climbed the nearby post, blown out the lamp and plunged them into darkness.
“We’re sure to hear a chime from somewhere,” Noah added.
Soon, various bells across town chimed the midnight hour, the sounds echoing in the distance like a death knell. But they lacked synchronicity, and Eva struggled to keep count. Was it an omen? A warning that nothing flowed smoothly? Even the best-laid plans went awry.
“Hush,” Noah whispered, though they had done nothing more than breathe.
They waited.
Seconds felt like minutes.
Minutes felt like hours.
The air thrummed with a choking tension.
What if Howard did something reckless?
What if he pulled a pistol and shot blindly in the dark?
But there was no time to feed her anxiety. The clip of booted steps on the flagstones cut through the stillness.
Merciful Mary!
“He’s here,” Noah mouthed, and then made a hand signal to Mr Daventry who hid near the opposite set of steps.
A figure appeared from the right, slinking through the shadows, avoiding the faint glow of the lamp in the courtyard. The man moved stealthily. His shifty nature marked him as the blackmailer come to collect his prize. Indeed, he stopped near the tree and gaped at the brown leather bag.
“Wait until he picks it up and walks away,” Mr Cole whispered.
Eva’s heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears. Every muscle in her body was ready to charge at the wastrel and knock sense into his thick skull. Yet this lean figure lacked her brother’s confident bearing. His gait lacked the arrogance of one who believed himself above mere mortals.
The fellow glanced left and right in the gloom before crouching down beside the bag and unbuckling the straps. After a quick ferret inside, he scooped the bag into his arms, took to his heels and bolted.
The small courtyard erupted into a hive of activity. Shouts and barked orders flew like arrows through the darkness, hitting their targets. Mr Sloane appeared and gave chase as the mystery blackmailer darted through an alley to the left.
Everyone followed suit, except for Mr Daventry who cried that he would trap the villain in the next courtyard.
“I don’t think it’s Howard,” Eva panted, gripping Noah’s hand. She had to yank her skirts past her calves to keep his fast pace. “Howard has a certain way of walking, lofty and dandified.”
“A man doesn’t care about such things when darting about like a frightened rabbit.”
“It’s not Howard,” she repeated. The fleeing silhouette did not look like Mr Hemming, either.
“Whoever he is, he’s fast on his feet,” Mr Cole panted as their quarry headed along Middle Temple Lane.
Eva had thought the blackmailer was remarkably clever for choosing the Temple as the meeting ground, though she realised her error when the fool ran into a dead end. Still, that didn’t stop him from attempting to climb the brick wall. In his desperation to escape, he was forced to drop the valise.
Noah released her hand and sprinted forward. He grabbed the fiend by the back of his coat and pulled him to the ground.
“Argh! Get off m-me,” the f
iend cried as a mad scuffle ensued. “Let me go!”
Noah pulled the fool to his feet and drew his arm back, ready to launch his fist.
“W-wait!” the man cried, covering his face with his hands. “I—I can explain.”
The moment Eva heard the stutter, she knew the blackmailer’s identity. “Mr Smith?”
Noah released the clerk and took a moment to study the man’s face. “Smith? What the devil?”
“I’m s-sorry,” he said, squinting as he scanned the ground for his lost spectacles.
Eva picked up the clerk’s eyeglasses and straightened the wires before handing them to him.
“Th-thank you, Miss Dunn.” The clerk put on his spectacles and then stumbled in terror upon witnessing six capable men glaring back at him.
“We demand an explanation!” Noah snapped, his temper barely contained.
Cornered, the clerk had no option but to comply. “And you sh-shall have one if you give me a minute to catch my breath.”
Noah folded his arms across his chest. “Well?”
Eva stepped forward. The young man was sure to find her less intimidating. “Does Mr Hemming know you’re blackmailing me?” Perhaps the publisher had sent his clerk to do his dirty deeds. “Does he know you arranged this meeting tonight?”
The clerk hung his head. “No, Miss Dunn.”
Noah turned on his heel and muttered a curse.
“You’re entirely to blame?” she asked incredulously. “You don’t strike me as the sort of man who would threaten a lady so cruelly. Have you no conscience?”
Mr Smith let out a whimper. “I—I was desperate, Miss Dunn. Y-you don’t know what it’s like working with Mr Hemming. It’s only a matter of time before I lose my position.”
“Oh, spare me your pitiful tale,” Noah mocked. “You’re a liar and a thief and deserve the worst kind of punishment.”
“Wait a moment,” Eva said before Noah dragged the fellow to the nearest police office. “Why would you lose your position? Does it have to do with me parting ways with Mr Hemming?” Surely not. The man published other notable works and made more than a reasonable living.
