“I see. Then it’s possible your brother sent the blackmail note.” He moved to the armoire and studied the array of well-tailored coats and embroidered silk waistcoats. “If I press you further—and I intend to press you much further, Miss Dunn—you will tell me he asked for a thousand pounds. The exact sum requested in the demand.”
Silence ensued.
Was there anything Mr Ashwood didn’t know?
The man was so perceptive he could tell fortunes at the fair.
Her reasons for secrecy had nothing to do with protecting Howard. The cad was capable of the worst kind of atrocities. No. The last thing she wanted was for Mr Ashwood to think her a naive fool.
But pride be damned.
“Howard’s initial request was for two thousand pounds,” she admitted. “I was shrewd enough to invest the small sum left to me by Mr Becker. Howard pleaded poverty and insisted I visit the bank.” There was no reasoning with a man whose evil addictions had taken possession of his character. “He demanded my footman serve as his valet. Indeed, he seemed to think he had the run of the house.”
Mr Ashwood turned to face her, his jaw firm, his expression severe. “When we find your wayward brother, I shall blacken his eyes and break his nose.”
“And I shall applaud you for it, sir.”
“Excellent. I’m glad we understand one another.” He motioned to the assortment of polished boots and shoes in the armoire. “It’s evident your brother had every intention of returning.” He paused. “What strikes me as odd is that the intruder stole your shoes and left your brother’s expensive Hessians.”
“Odd indeed,” she agreed.
He released a weary sigh as he scanned every inch of the room with unblinking focus. “Take me to your bedchamber, Miss Dunn.”
The demand sent her pulse soaring. Heavens, she had no control over her emotions when in this man’s presence.
“Certainly. Follow me.”
Eva led him into her chamber, a sumptuous space decorated entirely in gold and pale blue. It was where she came to read and relax, came to get away from her brother’s annoying diatribe.
A faint smile played on Mr Ashwood’s lips as he stroked the rich hangings on the large canopy bed. “You like to sleep in luxury, Miss Dunn.”
“One spends almost a third of one’s time in bed, sir.” Heat rose to her cheeks despite her logical reply. “It pays to be comfortable.”
“Comfort should always be a consideration when spending any length of time in bed.”
“Indeed.”
“And your bathtub is a permanent feature?” he asked, moving to examine the tub positioned on the wooden plinth in the corner. With an amused hum, he studied the lavish dressing screen bearing a naked image of Venus surrounded by a host of cherubs.
“I read when I bathe, and I do both often.”
He removed the delicate glass bottle from the side table next to the tub, pulled out the stopper and inhaled deeply. The pleasurable sigh breezing from his lips played havoc with her insides.
“There is nothing like the sweet smell of rosewater on a woman’s skin,” he drawled.
Good Lord! Her heart thumped hard in her throat. “I’m glad you approve, though what that has to do with my stolen boots is beyond me.”
There, a sharp snipe worked wonders to cool the blood.
He threw a wicked smile in her direction. “One can learn a great deal about a person from their habits and surroundings.”
Eva snorted. “And what have you learned about me, sir, other than I prefer the smell of roses to lavender?”
“You’re pragmatic, efficient.” He sauntered towards her, clutching the bottle. “Yet a practical woman would have the bath removed for it clutters the space.”
“A practical woman might decide it saves the servants time if the bath is a permanent fixture,” she countered. “It bodes for better use of limited resources.”
“But that is not the reason it’s here.” The gentleman brought the bottle to his nose and inhaled again. “A practical woman rarely indulges her senses. Rarely yields to her inclinations. And yet you strike me as one who refuses to suppress her passions.” He withdrew the glass stopper and dabbed rosewater on the pad of his finger. “May I?”
Eva knew what he meant to do, but found she could not refuse.
“I work hard, sir,” she said almost choking on the words as he leaned closer and pressed the scent to the pulse point below her ear. “But … but I am still a woman.”
“Of that, I am acutely aware, Miss Dunn.”
The delicate fragrance drifted to her nostrils. “Perhaps you might like to examine the armoire if you have finished analysing my character.” A nervous energy made her voice sound an octave higher.
Mr Ashwood studied her for a moment before dabbing the scent on his wrist and removing the rosewater to the small table. He crossed the room and pulled open the double doors of the large wardrobe.
“As you can see, sir, someone cleared the bottom shelf.”
“Indeed.” He studied the dresses hanging on the hooks, but one in particular captured his attention. “Is a red silk gown not a rather extravagant item for a practical woman’s wardrobe?”
“Well, as you so rightly pointed out, I often indulge my whims.”
Mr Ashwood glanced at her and smiled. “But you’ve never worn it, have you?”
“No. Never.” And the likelihood of her ever wearing it was slim to none.
Seconds ticked before he said, “Two questions. Might I ask if the room was in disarray when you returned home? And where do you keep your jewels?”
The first question was easy to answer.
The second roused bitter memories.
“The room was exactly as you see it now.” There had been no reason to suspect a thing. It wasn’t until she opened the armoire that she learned of the theft. “And I do not possess jewels, sir. I’m afraid my brother took the few items that belonged to my mother and sold them.”
“Took?”
“Stole.”
Mr Ashwood muttered a curse. “Then we shall add three broken fingers to the list of his impending injuries.” He took one last look around the room before removing his
