“You can have the run of the house. I’ll stay out of your way.”
“And yet I want to spend every waking minute with you.” She exhaled deeply. “Oh, I’m a muddled mess of contradictions.”
“A beautiful mess.”
As their gazes locked, he saw his own confusion staring back. He understood her anxiety. Distrust was a hard thing to conquer. More so, when one had been abandoned by the one person meant to provide support.
Then it occurred to him that he could give her a gift. Another gem to raise a smile. He would need to keep his wits. There would be no room for errors.
“What if you stayed in Wigmore Street so we might work together on the case? You would be there in a professional capacity, not because you need protection.”
Her eyes widened as she absorbed his words. “Work with you?”
“Indeed.”
“Won’t Mr Daventry object?”
Damn right, he would. “I shall smooth things with Lucius Daventry.” The row would be unpleasant.
“You’d take me with you to The Compass Inn?”
Inwardly, he groaned. “If we both deem it necessary, yes.”
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
“And to Mr Flannery’s establishment?”
“Yes,” he said, fearing he may live to regret his decision. “It may provide creative inspiration.”
A rush of excitement had her jigging about on her knees. “Then I agree. I shall stay in Wigmore Street until my problems are resolved.” Her gaze drifted to his bare chest, and he heard his own hunger reflected in her soft sigh.
“You have something to show me?” he said, assuming she wished to reveal the contents of the penny boy’s note she clutched in her hand.
“Oh, yes!” She thrust the letter at him. “It’s another threat.”
Noah took the paper and scanned the missive.
This time the blackmailer included a brief sample of the article he intended to publish in the broadsheets. The wording was meant to incite public outrage. A woman living so close to the Lying-In Hospital—a place where the vulnerable were open to scandal and corruption—was obsessed with penning tales of murder. Was that not grounds to have her committed to an asylum?
Noah glanced at Eva. “The blackmailer has grown desperate.”
“Yes, but you know there are men in society who will cause uproar. Seek to have me committed.”
“And yet you seem unafraid.”
“There’s little point worrying about something that is unlikely to occur.” She touched his arm. “Tell me we will find the devil before he rouses a storm.”
“We will find him and hold him accountable for his actions. You have my word.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult now he’s told us where he will be.” She motioned to the letter. “Although clearly he has no clue how resourceful you are.”
Intrigued, Noah continued reading.
The villain asked for a thousand pounds to be packed into a valise and taken to Temple Gardens. They were to arrive at the stroke of midnight, two days hence, and leave the valise at Fountain Court, near the ancient oak tree in Middle Temple.
“He’s chosen the court because there are at least five points of entry.”
Eva smiled. “Because he believes it will be impossible for you to cover every exit. So we know the blackmailer is not Lord Benham.”
Logic said she was right, but he wanted to hear her opinion. “And why is that?”
“Because the viscount knows you have at least four capable men at your disposal if one includes Mr Daventry. My brother knows nothing of your background. He knows the area well and often assisted Mr Becker in his frequent trips to the library.”
She was right.
Howard Dunn was the most likely suspect.
“What about Hemming?”
She shivered at the mere mention of the man’s name. “He would never publish such a damning article, not when people would hold him equally accountable.”
“Unless jealousy drives him to cause a rift between us. Maybe he presumes a scandal would bring an end to our betrothal.”
They might have examined Mr Hemming’s motive further had it not been for a cacophony of shouts and curses erupting in the hall.
Eva shot to her feet and hurried to the landing. “Come quickly. Bower has returned with Jonah.” She darted into her bedchamber, returned seconds later without her mother’s jewels.
Noah yanked open the door to Howard Dunn’s armoire. He took a neatly folded shirt from the shelf—though it looked a little too small—and dragged it over his head before racing downstairs.
Bower had taken Jonah to the kitchen. He was easing the badly beaten fellow into a chair and barking orders at the cook to fetch water and clean linen.
Jonah sat slumped forward, his long brown hair hanging loose from its queue. A trail of blood and spittle dribbled from his mouth. He clutched his ribs, struggled to catch his breath.
“What happened?” Noah took hold of Jonah’s chin and examined his bloody nose. “Thankfully, it’s not broken.” He took a damp square of linen from Bower and dabbed the blood from the angry gash to Jonah’s upper lip.
Jonah winced. “I—I had him … caught him down near … near Coal Yard.” He sucked in a sharp breath as Noah continued his ministrations.
“He had you, too, judging by the state of your face.”
Jonah shook his head. “He … he didn’t do this.” He took shallow, measured breaths while hugging his chest. “A bunch of gin swiggers gathered near … near the Kings Arms Yard … came to his aid.”
Bloody drunken fools. Were it not for their mounting problems, Noah would return with Bower and teach them all a hard lesson.
“Did you learn anything before the attack?” Noah took a pot of salve from the cook and smoothed it over Jonah’s bulging plum of an eye. “Did he say who hired him?”
Jonah hissed as the salve stung. “When the fight started, the devil bolted. I heard him shout that some ugly nabob had a score to settle.”
“Lord Benham,” came Eva’s frustrated whisper. “He’s the only ugly nabob I know.”
Undoubtedly. The lord might be a gentleman, but he was also a coward.
A sudden commotion in the hall heralded the arrival of the constable.
They
