Experience led him to expect an older woman—one looking for her runaway husband or light-fingered maid—not a young woman with porcelain skin and eyes of cornflower blue, eyes that sparkled with excitement at the mention of a deadly poison. Interesting. He waited for a faint blush to touch her cheeks, waited to witness a certain bashfulness upon meeting four unconventional men.
But this lady was out to defy all expectations.
“My name is Miss Dunn,” she said, slipping her book and pencil into her reticule before studying them through keen, intelligent eyes. “Forgive me for staring. One rarely sees gentlemen with facial hair these days. I thought it was considered unfashionable.”
Occasionally they all sported a short, neatly trimmed beard. Today, only Sloane and D’Angelo were clean-shaven.
Noah drew his hand along his bristly jaw. “Fops and dandies care about fashion, Miss Dunn.”
“And you’re keen to ensure everyone knows you’re a virile male.” She seemed comfortable making the personal comment. “I mean, masculinity is important to you.”
“Indeed.” The need to rattle her steely composure forced Noah to add, “A virile male is what you requested, is it not? A man willing to confront thugs in a dark alley?”
Intriguing blue eyes scanned him from head to toe. “I hoped to hire an agent who is not intimidated by a lady of independent means, sir.” She raised her dainty chin. “Men are quick to dismiss a woman with ambition.”
Yes, men tended to avoid the forthright types. And yet this woman had Noah’s undivided attention. His analytical mind scrambled to find the reason why.
Miss Dunn had many feminine attributes to recommend her. Her slender figure and shapely breasts were encased in a plain blue pelisse. He imagined cupping her delicate face, her pink lips parting, those long lashes fluttering with pleasure. The contrast of sensible and sensual seemed to encapsulate her character.
“We could spend all day discussing the failings of a patriarchal society,” he said, eager to put this puzzling woman from his mind, “yet I presume you’re here on more pressing matters.”
That said, she did not seem overly distressed.
“Pressing matters that leave me confounded, sir.”
Noah inclined his head and gestured to his friends. “Then you’re in luck, Miss Dunn. Any one of us can hear your case.”
She frowned in curious enquiry. “Forgive me, Mr Ashwood, are you inviting me to choose an agent?”
“Indeed. We all possess a wealth of experience. We are all fearless men.” And for some unfathomable reason, he was beyond desperate to learn of her preference.
“I see.” Her gaze drifted to Evan Sloane, the man they called Valiant for his courage and flowing mane of light brown hair.
“Mr Sloane recently solved the case of a child abducted from the street and held captive for ten days,” Noah said. “A crime that left Bow Street baffled.”
Miss Dunn’s hand shot to her breast. “Goodness. I trust you found the child alive.”
“Starving and frightened,” Sloane said soberly, “but relatively unharmed. I carried his limp body from a filthy fleapit in Southwark.”
Sloane was every woman’s hero.
The lady’s sigh carried the depth of her compassion. “What a tremendous relief.”
“And Mr D’Angelo found a runaway husband who faked his death and left his wife and five children destitute,” Noah continued. “He was living in luxury with his mistress in Salisbury.”
“Oh, the deceitful devil. Some men have no concept of responsibility, Mr D’Angelo.” Miss Dunn spoke as if she had experience of wastrels. She considered the lothario, the man they called Dark Angel. “I trust you pointed out the error of his ways. Pray he felt more than the sharp edge of your tongue.”
D’Angelo inclined his head and gave a mischievous grin. “The rogue received his comeuppance.”
“Excellent.”
So, Miss Dunn wasn’t opposed to a man using violence when necessary. Fascinating. Most women abhorred such savagery.
Noah cleared his throat. “Mr Cole’s case involved the murder of a maid in an alley near Seven Dials.” He waited for Miss Dunn’s horrified gasp—it didn’t come.
The lady raised her gloved hand. “Let me guess. The poor woman was killed by her employer. She was with child and planned to reveal all, no doubt.”
Miss Dunn did not scare easily. She wasn’t meek or fragile. So what wickedness forced her to seek their counsel?
“I cannot comment at present.” Cole pushed his hand through his black hair, part of the reason for his moniker Raven. “But I believe that an intelligent woman’s intuition is rarely wrong.”
Sly devil!
For men who were relishing the prospect of a few days’ rest and recuperation, they had soon changed their tune.
“And I recently solved a crime at—”
“Forgive me, Mr Ashwood,” Miss Dunn implored. “I do not mean to sound rude, but I have already determined your merits and cannot bear to hear another sad tale.”
Determined his merits?
What the blazes?
A desire to discover what Miss Dunn had learned of his character during the brief meeting burned in Noah’s veins. In the space of a few minutes, he had gone from hoping one of his friends took the case, to praying the lady picked him.
“My investigation involved greed, Miss Dunn. Nothing to tug on the heartstrings.” And yet he couldn’t help but feel somewhat inadequate. “Now, we’re busy men. Perhaps you might make your choice and take a seat in the study across the hall where you may explain your problem in private. Unless you wish to hear an extensive list of our credentials.”
“No, Mr Ashwood.” Miss Dunn smiled with the self-assurance of a duchess. “That won’t be necessary. I made my choice the moment I entered the drawing room.”
From the deep inhalations and amused grins of his colleagues, they were as eager as he to learn of her choice.
On first impressions, she might pick D’Angelo, the one with a kind face and a devilish twinkle in his eye. Most women thought they had the skills to tame him. Sloane had the look of a biblical hero who might throw himself into a pit of vipers and leave unscathed. Cole’s firm jaw and rugged countenance marked him as a man who got the
