Oh, this was ridiculous.
“Will Mr Ashwood be attending tonight?” she repeated.
Mr Cole glanced in her direction. “Does it matter?”
It did matter.
It mattered more than it should.
Perhaps an estrangement was for the best. Nothing would come of this bedevilling attraction. The addiction had kept her awake last night, imagining all sorts of lewd fantasies.
“What if word gets out I am betrothed to Mr Ashwood? Will it not look highly irregular if I attend a ball with you, sir?”
Mr Cole shot forward in the seat. “Betrothed? To Ashwood?” The atmosphere grew heavy, charged with tension, like the prelude to a violent storm. “Madam, if this is a game to rile my temper—”
“I never play games, Mr Cole.” She gave an outline of the meeting in Mr Hemming’s office. If Mr Ashwood failed to mention their fake betrothal, he most definitely hadn’t mentioned the kiss. “And so you see, Mr Ashwood wished to send the rogue a clear message.”
Mr Cole’s eyes flashed as black as his mood. “Oh, I understand the message. I understand the message all too well.”
“Whatever you’re implying, sir, you have me at a loss.”
“Then it seems neither of you has control of your wits.”
It occurred to her that Mr Cole’s annoyance stemmed from a need to protect his friend and colleague. But from what? Did he think she’d invented her problems merely to seduce an unsuspecting agent into marriage?
“It was merely a ploy. Bait to lure a rodent into a trap.”
“What sort of trap?” Mr Cole snapped.
“Mr Ashwood is trying to determine whether my brother sent the blackmail note to gain funds, or if my publisher sent it to entice me to his office in the dead of night.” She offered a confident smile. “It is not a trap to lure an eligible gentleman into marriage if that is your fear.”
“Fear?” He snorted. “I’m not afraid of anything, Miss Dunn.”
“No. Nothing except for experiencing the pain that has made you so hard and unforgiving.”
Well, that took the wind out of his sails.
The gentleman stared open-mouthed for a few seconds until he mastered his senses. “Then I shall follow your lead, madam, and be blunt. I intend to help my friend overcome his fleeting infatuation.”
Infatuation!
Eva’s heart lurched.
So, she had not imagined the vibrant energy that charged the air when in Mr Ashwood’s company. The taste of passion on his lips had not been part of the ruse. They had many things in common, too many to ignore. One might be forgiven for believing fate had brought them together.
“Then let us be clear, sir. I have the utmost respect for Mr Ashwood.” Indeed, he had restored her faith, given her the belief there were honest men in the world. “I have no intention of making the case more difficult than it is already. So, for the third and final time, will your colleague be joining us this evening?”
After a moment of reflection, Mr Cole said, “The official answer is no. Another matter requires his attention. As his friend, I would not be surprised if he made an appearance.”
Her stomach grew hot upon hearing the news.
Perhaps Mr Cole had every reason to express his concern. This fleeting infatuation had taken command of her faculties, too.
A heavy silence ensued.
Nerves took hold as they neared Cavendish Square and the home of Lord Newberry. The fop had been a guest at Briden Castle two summers ago, along with his friend Lord Benham. Both men had lavished her with attention. It was Clara who first made Eva aware of the bet. A kindness that was a catalyst for the wealth of suffering that followed.
“It might help if you explain our objective for attending the ball this evening,” Eva said. She needed to prepare mentally for the clash with the viscount. “I presume we have invitations. That said, Lord Benham will probably have me thrown out.” And yet it wasn’t the viscount’s anger she feared, more his cunning and his need for vengeance.
“No one will ask us to leave. Daventry knows too much about Newberry’s nefarious dealings.”
“And will Lord Newberry provide a chaperone? Surely you know what people will say should they see us alone together.”
Eva didn’t care what people said. Most expected the worst. Like those poor souls during the revolution, her name was proof of her guilt. Besides, those who professed to be holier than thou and the epitome of high standards, were drunken debauchers who would murder their own mothers to move up the social ladder. Although seeing her in the company of another man was certain to rouse the viscount’s ire.
Mr Cole exhaled a weary sigh. “Mr Ashwood insisted I arrange for a companion. Someone respectable, trustworthy. Someone of his choosing. Someone with whom I share a history.”
Whoever this someone was, Mr Cole’s tone turned irritable the moment he spoke about the mystery lady. But there was no time to press him further. The carriage slowed, joining the queue stretching as far as Henrietta Street.
For fifteen minutes, they sat in morbid silence. Every jolt and jerk forward added to the crippling sense of trepidation. Music and the faint hum of laughter drifted through the cool night air, but it did nothing to ease the tension.
Mr Cole was every bit the respectable gentleman as he escorted Eva into the mansion house. From her brief encounter with Lord Newberry, she knew him to be a man who liked to flaunt his wealth. Tonight was no exception.
Magnificent ice sculptures, lavish champagne fountains and an alarming number of standing candelabra made for an extravagant affair.
Mr Cole’s mouth curled in disdain as he led Eva to their position near a grand marble fireplace, above which hung a huge portrait of their host.
Despite Mr Cole’s stony appearance, many men inclined their heads respectfully as they passed. Indeed, they seemed a little in awe of the brusque gentleman who had barely spoken two words to Eva since their arrival.
“At last,” he muttered beneath his breath as a graceful woman approached. Mr Cole scanned the lady’s figure-hugging
