Did the need to play protector stem from the tragic loss of his mother? As a child, he must have felt helpless. As a man, he took command of every situation.
The viscount sneered. “Some might believe your admirable protestations, but you want to bed her as much as I do.”
To her shock, Mr Ashwood did not discount the lord’s claim. “Every man has his torments. Miss Dunn is kind and intelligent, courageous, beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to bed her?”
Eva struggled to breathe.
It wasn’t the list of compliments that sent her head spinning, but the knowledge of his intimate thoughts.
She imagined him naked. Pert buttocks and rippling muscles. Hard and male. She imagined him scooping her up into his powerful arms and lowering her down onto her plush mattress—entering her, pleasuring her, loving her.
“But I am assisting Miss Dunn in a professional capacity,” he continued, dousing her inner flames. “The lady wishes to find her brother, wishes to punish the coward who attacked her in the street. I seek justice on her behalf. That is all.”
That was not all.
There was something more between them. More than duty. More than lust. Something intangible. Something that spanned centuries if one believed in destiny and fate. The need to fuse herself to him, to meld together body and soul was so great she could think of little else.
“I’m not surprised Hawkridge is ashamed of your familial connection,” the viscount scoffed, attempting to gain ground. “Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps there is doubt over your lineage. Your father spent his days too drunk to notice your mother’s indiscretion. Why else would you soil your hands when you’re wealthier than your uncle?”
Eva froze.
The atmosphere turned volatile seconds before Mr Ashwood flew across the room and grabbed Lord Benham by the throat. For all the viscount’s arrogance, he was nowhere near as strong as his opponent. Despite a violent struggle, he could not break free.
“You do not want to make an enemy of me.” Mr Ashwood’s vicious growl practically shook the chandelier. No doubt hell’s sinners were diving into the inferno to escape the terrifying tremors. “My father’s blood flows through my veins—wild and reckless—though I’m an expert shot and fight for honourable causes.” He tightened his grip, choking the lord. “I don’t care who you are. Insult my mother, issue one more threat to Miss Dunn, and I’ll put a lead ball between your brows.”
Good Lord. Eva had never seen him so angry, so out of control. She couldn’t help but feel responsible. In questioning Lord Benham, she had been trying to prevent an argument, not start one.
Lord Benham managed a curt nod, but still, Mr Ashwood maintained his firm hold. The viscount’s cheeks flamed red. His eyes bulged in their sockets.
Eva gripped Mr Ashwood’s arm. “I think Lord Benham understands the gravity of the situation, sir. Let him go. Let him go before you throttle him to death.”
The library door creaked open again, but—thank the Lord—it was Mr Cole who entered. He took one look at the situation and cursed beneath his breath. “Listen to Miss Dunn. Let Benham go.”
Mr Ashwood released his grip.
The viscount sagged forward and clutched his throat as he gasped for air.
“If you wish to take this further,” Mr Ashwood said, the fire in his eyes still burning, “I shall await your dawn invitation. I name Finlay Cole as my second.”
Lord Benham was a cruel individual, but he was not a fool. Still, Mr Ashwood’s anger radiated, and the viscount might easily provoke him.
“I’m sure Lord Benham understands that he said something wholly inappropriate,” Eva said with some desperation. “That he deserved your retaliation. Let us leave him to catch his breath and reflect on who was to blame.” She flashed a pleading gaze at Mr Cole.
“I’m sure Benham knows that an enemy of Ashwood’s is an enemy of mine,” Mr Cole said, his tone razor sharp. “A wise man chooses his battles.”
“Come.” Eva tugged Mr Ashwood’s coat sleeve. “We should leave.”
Mr Ashwood shot her an irate stare. “Damn right, we should.” Without warning, he captured her elbow and propelled her towards the door.
Lord Benham remained silent, though Eva felt the whip of his disdain lashing her back, sharp enough to draw blood.
Mr Cole peered around the jamb and surveyed the corridor before ushering them out of the room. “I presume you walked here. We can take my carriage.”
But Mr Ashwood had other plans.
“Stay here, Cole. Entertain Lady Adair. I shall see Miss Dunn home.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise. Daventry will have something to say about—”
“Sod Daventry.”
Mr Ashwood didn’t care for his friend’s opinion. He didn’t care who saw him steering her possessively through the corridor.
A gentleman with a patrician nose and an arrogant mouth pushed away from the wall as they approached. “Ah, Ashwood,” he said, attempting to block their path. “I heard you were here. Causing trouble again, I see. And who is this delightful—”
“Bugger off!” Mr Ashwood barged shoulders with the fellow and continued towards the front door.
“Who was that?”
“Hawkridge.”
“Your uncle?”
His reply was but a muttered curse.
“Where are we going?” she whispered as numerous people turned their heads and gaped as he led her out into Cavendish Square. “I thought you were concerned about my reputation.”
“Your brother is a scoundrel. Your recklessness this evening will be a talking point for months. The damage is done.”
She could not argue with his logic.
“When I said you should get Lord Benham’s attention,” he said, navigating her around the row of parked carriages in the square, “I advised you to use your wits, not place yourself in a perilous situation.”
“But he refuses to acknowledge me in public. How else was I to gain an audience?”
“You wait until you have something with which to bargain.”
“Then what was the purpose of attending the ball?” She would have preferred to stay at home.
Mr Ashwood sighed. “To gauge his reaction when Cole mentioned your brother. To see how he would behave knowing you
