Noah explained about her brother’s dastardly deeds. How he ruined his sister’s closest friend and stole his mother’s jewels.
“He ruined Benham’s sister?” Daventry’s features twisted in disdain. “And you agreed to find this devil? Is he not best left to rot in whatever sewer he’s crawled into?”
“I don’t care if the fool is a bloated corpse bobbing about the Thames. Manning will want his money and will go to any lengths to get it. The lady needs our protection. Manning is not averse to kidnapping.”
It wouldn’t come to that, but Noah’s current task was to get Daventry onside. Sir Malcolm Langley, a magistrate at Bow Street, had made it his mission to see Manning hang. He was busy gathering evidence and witnesses to crimes. Hopefully, Manning was too occupied to worry about punishing Miss Dunn.
“No.” Daventry sighed. “Manning is not averse to anything.”
“And you know what will happen to Miss Dunn should Manning take her in payment for the debt.”
“She’ll be sold to an evil bastard abroad who enjoys beating women.” Daventry rubbed his jaw as he considered the dilemma. “If the brother is dead and Miss Dunn is short of funds, we will pay the debt to Manning.”
If only that were possible.
“We cannot intervene. Sir Malcolm is getting closer to securing evidence to arrest Manning. There’ll be a trial. The Order must be seen to follow the law. If we’re to continue to offer support to the needy, we cannot be held to ransom by murdering scoundrels.”
That didn’t mean Noah couldn’t personally assist Miss Dunn.
“Agreed.” Daventry pursed his lips. “What about the Turners?”
“They’ll kill Howard Dunn if he fails to pay. But I’ve never known them take revenge on an innocent woman.”
Silence ensued.
“One thing is clear,” Daventry said. “You cannot work this case alone. There are too many loose ends. Good God, you have the mystery surrounding the blackmail note, the stolen boots and the murder of her cobbler to solve.”
Noah explained all that had occurred so far, omitting to mention he had kissed Miss Dunn for the hell of it—because he couldn’t resist. He made no mention of their fake betrothal, either. Daventry would be sure to warn him over his foolish lapse in judgement.
“I’ve arranged for someone to guard her door and another to keep watch on Mr Hemming.” They had a group of capable men to call upon, ex-sailors and soldiers, good men who had fallen on hard times but who sought to make an honest living.
“That’s fine for the publisher. But if Manning is involved, I’ll send Bower to guard the lady’s house.”
Despite his military background, Bower worked as Lucius Daventry’s butler and played coachman on occasion. He had assisted his master during many late-night skirmishes at the docks and in the rookeries. He was loyal to a fault and would report directly to Daventry.
“Sloane and D’Angelo will work with Sir Malcolm to secure Manning’s arrest,” Daventry added. “Cole will assist you until the brother is found, and the debts satisfied. Perhaps let him deal directly with Miss Dunn. There’s not a woman alive who can rouse affection in his chest.”
Noah fought the urge to jump to his feet and protest. But the master of the Order cared about his members. Daventry had seen men die while working to save innocent victims. He was on a mission to ensure no one else died while in pursuit of the truth.
“What of Lord Benham?” Noah said. “He has a motive for murder.”
Daventry despised men who used their positions in society to escape their crimes. Not that Howard Dunn didn’t deserve punishment.
“It’s not as though I can call at his residence and question him about the disappearance of Howard Dunn,” Noah added. “I imagine the peer will go to great lengths to protect his sister.”
“And we would do the same in his position. Finding the brother is paramount.” Daventry spent a moment in quiet contemplation. “Lord Newberry is having a ball at his home in Cavendish Square. Benham will surely be there. I shall arrange for invitations. A few questions exchanged while sipping champagne will allow an opportunity to gauge Benham’s reaction.”
Noah inwardly groaned.
No doubt his uncle would be in attendance.
“It will take more than a glass of champagne to loosen Benham’s tongue.”
Lucius Daventry cast a wry smile. “Then use Miss Dunn as bait.”
Chapter 8
“Ma’am, you must make a choice soon.” Kathleen held up the bright blue gown Eva had worn the last time someone forced her to parade amongst quality. “You’re to leave for the ball in two hours, and I might need to make alterations.”
Eva didn’t want to make a choice. She wanted to slip beneath the coverlet and hide until dawn. While logic said Lord Benham was a prime suspect in her brother’s disappearance, the thought of being within a few feet of the viscount filled her with dismay.
“Ma’am?”
Eva’s gaze drifted to the exquisite red gown draped over the chair. She had purchased the material on a whim. Had taken it to a seamstress in Spitalfields who made the most remarkable creations for a reasonable price. The fantasy of being the most confident woman in the room—not the need to attract a gentleman’s eye—had been her motivation.
And yet all thoughts turned to Mr Ashwood.
One kiss—one pleasurable kiss—one kiss that had curled her toes and roasted her insides, had turned her mind to mush.
“The blue reflects the colour of your eyes, ma’am,” Kathleen continued, dragging Eva from her reverie.
“The blue is best worn with jewels. And the only slippers I possess have red bows.” She was making excuses. Trying to delay the inevitable. The only saving grace was that she didn’t have to face Lord Benham alone.
Kathleen winced before daring to say, “Ma’am, I can change the bows.”
The suggestion brought a lump to Eva’s throat. “They were my mother’s favourite slippers. I haven’t the heart to change a thing.”
Thoughts turned to the diamond earrings, the ruby brooch and the pretty topaz and cannetille necklace, stolen by the rogue whose desire to
