A footman dressed in blue livery opened the door. His concerned frown became a welcoming smile, and he gazed at Mr Ashwood as if he were the prodigal son returned.
“I trust Hawkridge is at home.”
“Yes, sir.” The eager footman stepped back from the door and bid them entrance. “Knowles will announce you at once.”
Noah patted the servant on the upper arm, and for the briefest moment his anger dissipated. “It’s good to see you, William.”
“Likewise, sir.” The footman lowered his voice. “Things aren’t the same here since his lordship’s passing.”
“No. My grandfather was such a lively fellow. I imagine the house feels empty without him.”
“Terribly so, sir.”
The grey-haired butler appeared, his proud bearing softening the moment he laid eyes on Noah. “Mr Ashwood.” The older man’s smile was blinding. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon, Knowles. I’m here to see my uncle, though I should warn you the visit will be unpleasant.”
Both servants seemed rather pleased at the prospect.
“You won’t want tea then, sir,” Knowles teased.
“Not unless you wish to see the best china smashed into a hundred pieces.” Noah clasped the older man’s shoulder and lowered his voice, “Now, I wish to save you both from bearing the brunt of your master’s wrath, so we’ll play the usual game.”
Both men nodded.
A few seconds of silence ensued before Noah suddenly shouted, “Move out of my way! You’ll let me in, else I shall take the damn door off its hinges.”
“But, sir!” Knowles cried while William thumped the door and rattled the knocker. “Wait here! Let me see if the master is at home!”
“I know he’s here. I want to see Hawkridge. Now!”
Knowles smiled and pointed to the study door. “Sir! You can’t go in there. Not without an appointment.”
A painfully thin lady with a solemn face appeared at the top of the stairs, though she made no attempt to control the situation.
Noah charged towards the door and marched into the room.
Mr Cole gestured for Eva to follow.
“What the devil do you mean barging in here like you own the house?” Lord Hawkridge slammed his hand on the desk and jumped from the chair in protest. “Knowles! Knowles! Call the constable!”
“Yes, call the damn constable.” Fists clenched, Noah rounded the desk. “I have evidence my uncle has committed a crime.”
The lord’s eyes widened in shock as Noah grabbed the pompous oaf by his lapels and dragged him to the plush bergere chair near the hearth.
“Get your damn hands off me,” Lord Hawkridge warned, though his outrage was but a flicker of a spark compared to Noah’s roaring flame.
Noah threw his uncle into the seat. “I’ve just questioned your hired lackey, Eric Blighty. He admitted following me to Miss Dunn’s house, spoke of a visit to Southwark last night.”
Lord Hawkridge sneered, though his beady brown eyes shifted rapidly. “Blighty? I’ve never heard of the devil.”
“I suppose you know nothing about him meeting a gang who work near the Wheatsheaf Brewery.” Noah braced his hands on the arms of the chair and pressed closer to the quivering lord. “Nothing about him paying a thug to hurl a bottle through Miss Dunn’s window.”
Eva gasped upon hearing the news.
Lord Hawkridge hired the thug?
Why would the peer wish to harm her?
“I h-haven’t the faintest clue what you’re t-talking about,” came the lord’s stammering reply. “Like your father, you’re a trouble starter who seeks to cause mischief.”
Noah ground his teeth. “Every twitch and pained expression says you’re lying.”
“It won’t be difficult to find the villain,” Mr Cole said. “Peel’s vow to tackle organised gangs is crucial to reform. And men like that are quick to blab if it means escaping the noose.”
“You’ve overstepped the mark,” Noah continued, poking his uncle in the chest. “Everyone knows you’re bitter because I inherited the lion’s share while you got nothing but the entailed property. That’s the reason you’ve wasted years trying to prove I’m illegitimate, trying to persuade my grandfather to amend his will. But you could have killed an innocent woman. And for what? Out of spite? Because you would do anything to prevent me from marrying? Because you hope I die so you can claim everything I own?”
Lord Hawkridge found an ounce of courage from somewhere and said, “I’d rather die than have my brother’s offspring take the title.”
“Then you’re in luck.” Noah straightened. “I’ll take that as an admission of guilt and so you’d best dust off your pistols. Only one of us will walk away the victor.”
Eva gasped. “No! You’ll not risk your life on my account.”
“Daventry will cast you out of the Order,” Mr Cole cautioned. “There is no honour in killing a man. You’ll be forced to live abroad. Your name will carry eternal shame. That’s not what your grandfather wanted. That’s never been what you wanted.”
Panic gripped Eva around the throat. “Please, don’t do this. There must be another solution.”
Noah turned on his uncle. “Why could you not simply sire an heir and be done with it? Why could you not look to fill the house with a brood of boys ready to take your place?”
“Do you not think I’ve tried?” The lord’s words dripped with contempt. “I had the pick of the crop and chose the only damn woman in the ton who is barren. No wonder she came with a sizeable dowry.”
Lord Hawkridge spoke as if his wife were a broodmare. No doubt, he wished to put the muzzle of a pistol to her head and pull the trigger, go hunting for a filly. Perhaps the woman with the saddest eyes Eva had ever seen, might wish for a quick end to her torment, too.
“That useless vessel will be the ruin of my family.” Lord Hawkridge’s features twisted in disdain. “That pathetic woman will be my damn downfall.”
Eva couldn’t bear to hear another derogatory word from this fool’s lips. Thankfully, she didn’t have to suffer another disparaging remark. Without warning, Noah drew his fist back and
