Cole released a sigh. “Sophia thought I was dead. She explained her reasons for marrying, and I respect them.”
No. Deep down, he was still hurt, still bitter. “I’m not talking about Sophia.” He was talking about the woman Cole married while still nursing a broken heart. “I’m talking about your wife. I’m talking about Hannah.”
The atmosphere in the carriage changed instantly. Noah could feel the panic, could sense the crippling torment before Cole shot forward in the seat and rapped hard on the roof.
“I cannot do this now,” Cole said as the carriage came crashing to a halt. “I shall meet you in Hart Street tomorrow as planned.” And with that, Cole vaulted to the pavement, slammed the door and stalked off into the night.
Noah spent the rest of the journey struggling to know how to help his friend. Cole’s grief had as much to do with his failings as it did the loss of his wife.
It was almost midnight by the time the carriage rolled up outside Noah’s home on Wigmore Street. No doubt Eva was asleep, and yet his need to ease the insistent ache saw him approach her bedchamber.
The soft glow of candlelight crept through the gap beneath the door, sending his heart lurching. The splash of water reached his ears along with the melodic voice that drew him like a siren’s song.
He knocked on the door. “Eva. May I come in?” The question had a sexual connotation, and he imagined driving deep into her welcoming body, banishing all his woes.
“Noah?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, come in.”
Excitement thrummed in his veins as he turned the doorknob and entered the room. The lady was lounging in a bathtub near the fire, her bare skin glistening in the light of the dancing flames. Her hair was tied loosely, teasing tendrils caressing the elegant column of her throat. Firm, round breasts bobbed in the water, dusky pink nipples peeking above the surface. Never had he seen a more alluring sight.
“I feel like a nomad stumbling upon a glistening oasis,” he said. Indeed, his mouth was so damn dry. “Is it not a little late to bathe?”
“I wished to occupy myself while waiting for you. Would you care to slip into my water? It’s still warm, and you look like you need something to relax those tight muscles.”
There was a lightness in the air, a playful energy that soothed the soul and brought instant solace. He could get used to having her in his home. He could get used to this feeling of contentment.
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What happened at The Compass Inn?”
“By all accounts, your brother is alive.” He hoped the information brought relief, though he couldn’t help but experience some trepidation. “He escaped his kidnappers, though one wonders why he did not return home.”
“Because Howard is the blackmailer,” she said, rising out of the water like a goddess of the sea.
Water trickled over every inch of her skin, dripping from the delightful pink nipples he was eager to suck. He tried to ignore the purple bruise marring her thigh. Howard Dunn would pay for that, too, once Noah caught the blighter.
Eva slipped into her wrapper but did not tie the silk belt. She padded over to him, kissed him in the slow, open-mouthed way that conveyed abiding affection.
“Come. The water will ease the tension,” she said, smoothing her hands over his tight shoulders. “We will worry about Howard tomorrow. When we catch him at Temple Gardens, I think we should take him to Sir Malcolm. A stint in the Marshalsea might teach my brother a lesson.”
Noah might have challenged her opinion had she not begun to unbutton his waistcoat in the brazen way that sent his thoughts scattering. He might have questioned why a man drowning in debt would demand a measly thousand pounds.
But then Eva tugged his shirt from his breeches and ran her hand over his erection. And for the next two hours, he forgot anyone else in the world existed.
Chapter 18
It was three in the afternoon when Henry arrived in Wigmore Street in a state of blind panic. Eva’s footman could barely catch his breath as he stood in Noah’s drawing room, shaking and clutching a note.
“Just take a moment,” Eva said. The poor man’s face glowed beetroot-red. Beads of sweat clung to his brow. “Did you run the whole way?” It must be nigh on two miles to Brownlow Street.
“Yes, ma’am,” he panted, struggling to maintain the decorum expected from one’s footman.
Noah strode to the row of decanters on the side table and splashed brandy into a crystal goblet. “Here, swallow this.” He offered Henry the goblet and waited for him to down the contents before returning the glass to the tray.
The spirit calmed the footman. “Mr Hemming c-called, ma’am.”
Hearing the devil’s name chilled Eva’s blood. “Yes, and what did he want?”
“He heard about the fire and came to offer his assistance.”
Had suspicion for the arson attack not fallen on Lord Hawkridge, Eva might easily blame a coward like Mr Hemming for the dreadful deed.
“I told him you weren’t at home, ma’am, but he barged into the house and insisted on waiting for your return.”
The man was a damn menace. A veritable pest. “And where did he wait?”
Suspicion sparked. She would lay odds the publisher used the opportunity to search her study. He was obsessed with her stories, kept demanding to read her current work in progress.
“In the study, ma’am.”
Conniving devil!
“Bardsley caught him rummaging through your desk and told him to leave,” Henry continued, “but Mr Hemming got angry. He said he wasn’t leaving until he’d spoken to you.”
A hard lump formed in her throat. “Please tell me you didn’t give him this address.”
“Hemming won’t dare approach my door,” Noah said, confident in his assertion.
Henry shook his head. “Bardsley said you were staying with friends.”
Eva sighed. “Mr Hemming knows I have no friends.”
“Yes, ma’am. He started ranting and raving that an evil schemer had taken advantage of your good
