“What about Miss Dunn’s chemise?” Mr Ashwood’s verdant gaze journeyed the length of Eva’s body as if she stood in nothing but the flimsy garment in question. “Why would you wash her petticoat and not the linen worn closest to the skin? You did wash her chemise?”
Kathleen’s blonde lashes fluttered in a panic. “Y-yes, sir.”
“So why was it not on the line?”
The maid stared blankly.
“This is Mrs Sawyer,” he continued in an impersonal tone. “She’s the matron who attended those entering the hospital this morning. She dealt with the distraught woman seen crying in the street.”
Eva studied the gentleman, in awe of his calm, controlled manner. Was there ever a time when he lost the firm grasp of his faculties? Was he ever unsettled, ever fearful?
“Is there something you wish to confess?” he said, taking a few slow steps towards the maid, swamping her petite frame. “Or shall I have Mrs Sawyer tell your mistress what happened this morning?”
Kathleen’s eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath and swung around to face Eva. “Forgive me, ma’am. I didn’t know what else to do. I shouldn’t have lied. I should have explained what happened, but with Mr Dunn missing and the issue with the money, I thought you’d be angry.”
Heavens above. Did she have to mention the money? When hunting for information, Mr Ashwood was like a hawk and could spot a mouse in a sprawling wheat field.
“You gave my petticoat and stockings to someone from the hospital?” Eva asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Howard.
“A woman must provide clothing for herself and her babe before she can enter the hospital,” Mr Ashwood said. “Am I correct, Mrs Sawyer?”
“Yes, sir,” the housekeeper replied, perfectly at ease in her acting role. “That’s correct.”
Kathleen whimpered. “I was out scrubbing the step this morning, and I saw a woman sobbing further down the street. She had given her papers two weeks ago and secured a place at the hospital. But her husband said she must have the babe at home and refused to let her take all her belongings.”
Eva frowned. She felt foolish for troubling Mr Ashwood over a mere household affair. “But if you’d come to me, I would have given the woman the clothes she needed. You know I make regular donations to the hospital.”
“But that was before Mr Dunn disappeared taking the—”
“The less said about Mr Dunn, the better,” Eva interposed far too abruptly. She tried to steal a covert glance at Mr Ashwood only to find the gentleman staring at her intently.
“You were still upset about what Mr Dunn did, ma’am, I didn’t want to add to the burden,” Kathleen said, much to Eva’s chagrin.
Eva pasted a smile and faced Mr Ashwood. “Forgive me for wasting your time this morning. It seems the undergarments were not stolen after all.”
“No,” he mused. The word carried a wealth of suspicion. “But the last few minutes have proved insightful.” Presumably, he had a host of questions for her, but he turned to Kathleen. “I trust you didn’t encounter a woman in the street who needed boots and shoes.”
“No, sir.” Kathleen rubbed her chapped fingers. “And I was taking supper when the thief entered the house.”
“And the intruder took nothing but Miss Dunn’s footwear?” He glanced at the maid’s feet. It was evident she wore boots, not dainty dancing slippers.
“Not that I noticed, sir.”
“Are those your boots?”
Kathleen shook her head. “They belong to Cook. They’re too small, sir, but I didn’t want to ruin my mistress’ beloved slippers.”
Mr Ashwood nodded. “And do you have any idea how the villain entered the house?”
Kathleen shrugged. “Bardsley must have left the front door unlocked when Miss Dunn went out last night.”
“That would have been rather fortuitous for a passing thief.” Mr Ashwood’s voice dripped with sarcasm. He shot Eva a curious glance. “There was no sign of forced entry?”
“No.” She knew what he was thinking without him uttering a word. He believed Howard had returned and stolen her shoes and boots.
Her theory proved correct when Mr Ashwood said, “Presumably Mr Dunn has a door key.”
“He does, sir, but no one has seen the master for a week.”
The master!
Had Kathleen forgotten who paid her wages?
“That does not mean he wasn’t here.” Mr Ashwood’s expression remained unreadable, though there was a devilish glint of amusement in his eyes when he said, “Would you escort me to your bedchamber, Miss Dunn? I’m sure Kathleen will fetch tea for Mrs Sawyer while the matron awaits our return.”
“Of course.” Eva’s heartbeat pounded in her chest. “Come with me, Mr Ashwood.”
Climbing the stairs proved an arduous task with a handsome gentleman in tow. Her legs were as heavy as lead weights. She had to grip the handrail to propel herself forward. Mr Ashwood’s gaze bored into her back as he trailed too closely behind.
“Might I examine your brother’s room first?” he said when they reached the landing.
“Certainly.” The distraction would give her time to gather her composure, and so she gestured to the door at the far end of the corridor.
He pushed open the door to Howard’s chamber and entered. “Do you recall the last conversation you had with your brother?”
Eva followed Mr Ashwood into the room. “Yes.”
They had fought. Howard had said terrible things. Called her every cruel name. Cursed her to the devil. Hurt her for the last time.
Mr Ashwood opened the top drawer of the gentleman’s dressing chest, removed a gold cravat pin and twirled it between long, elegant fingers. “Are you determined to keep me in the dark, Miss Dunn, or will you explain the reason for your argument?”
“How do you know we argued?”
Mr Ashwood closed the top drawer. He opened the one beneath and rummaged through the silk cravats. “Your brother is a wastrel. You cut your maid short when you feared she would reveal something of his scandalous ways.”
It was time to make a small confession. “Howard wanted money. I refused, and so he stole the paltry sum I kept hidden in a
