Oh, the sly scoundrels!
“And what would Mr Hemming get in return?” she said, though it seemed fairly obvious now.
“Mr Dunn gave his permission for you to wed Mr H-Hemming and agreed to put an announcement in The Times.”
Eva snorted. “My brother does not decide who I marry.”
“Once you were wed, and Mr Hemming had control, he promised to settle your brother’s debts in full. In the meantime, they arranged to frighten you into submission. The plan was you’d come running to Mr H-Hemming, desperate for his help.”
What had once seemed like the worst of storms, terrifying and impossible to navigate, now appeared as nothing more than a light shower. Two pathetic individuals, two weak men who hadn’t an ounce of common sense between them, had sought to use her for their own gain.
“When you say frighten me, I assume they arranged for Kathleen to steal my shoes and boots.” Lord, that meant they had hired the monster to attack her in the street.
“They read about the murder of your cobbler and had the idea. Mr Dunn said he could get the maid to do his bidding.”
Eva fell silent, consumed by the depth of their deception.
So, the night she had turned to Mr Hemming for help—the night he touched her inappropriately—he was already plotting and scheming with her brother.
Noah cleared his throat. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve come to claim the bounty. Nor does it explain why Mr Hemming has no notion you’re here.”
“Because Smith wrote the second note without their knowledge,” Mr Daventry surmised. “He was going to take the money and run.”
“I had no choice.” The clerk was overcome with panic again. “Mr Hemming has lost his mind, Miss Dunn. It all started the day you came to the office with Mr Ashwood. And he’s not been right since.”
She should have known Mr Hemming would seek revenge. “Mr Hemming lost control of his faculties long ago,” she said.
“Not like this, miss. Mr Hemming was in a devil of a temper. He wanted your brother to help kidnap you and force you into marriage, but Mr Dunn refused when he heard you were betrothed to Mr Ashwood.”
Was it too much to hope that Howard cared, that he sought her happiness? Of course it was! She was not that naive. “Probably because he thought Mr Ashwood the better option when it comes to borrowing funds.”
“Then he’s a fool if he believes I’d give him a damn penny,” Noah said. “I’d put him on a ship bound for the Americas before I’d fund his gambling habit.”
If only that were possible. She would certainly sleep easier at night knowing her brother was thousands of miles away.
“So, where is my brother now? You must have some inkling as to where he is staying.” And why hadn’t he come home?
The clerk started shaking, shaking uncontrollably. “I—I had nothing to do with it, Miss Dunn.”
Impatience saw Noah grab the man by his lapels. “Just tell us what the hell happened!”
“They argued, and then—” The clerk struggled to catch his breath. “Then Mr Hemming hit Mr Dunn on the head with a paperweight.”
The information tore a gasp from Eva’s throat. She started shaking, too. “Good heavens! Is he dead?”
Part of her wanted the clerk to say yes. Did she not deserve some peace? Part of her hoped the answer was no. Would she not always blame herself for not dealing with Mr Hemming sooner?
“No, he’s not dead. Mr Hemming is keeping him prisoner.” Mr Smith began whimpering like a hungry child. “He said I was guilty of aiding him and would swing from the neck, too, if caught.”
“Hence the reason you wrote the second blackmail note,” Mr Cole added.
Noah released the clerk and allowed him a moment to gather his composure before asking, “Where is Hemming holding him?”
“In the a-attic,” the clerk stammered. “Above the office in Tavistock Street.”
Chapter 19
Despite the late hour, Tavistock Street was a hive of activity. Patrons burst from the theatres and cluttered the pavements like an army of ants. The bawds who sold their wares from alleyways and doorways snatched punters as they passed and disappeared for a five-minute fumble. Beggars loitered, waiting to accost the drunken fools stumbling from coffeehouses, brothels and gaming hells. Covent Garden was a playground for the wealthy. A hunting ground for those who made their living on the streets.
Daventry had taken the clerk to Bow Street to make a statement, securing a case against Hemming being a priority. Sloane and D’Angelo had taken the wherry back from Temple Gardens and would arrive in Tavistock Street in due course.
“Every instinct tells me you should wait in the carriage,” Noah said as his conveyance rolled to a stop fifty yards from the publisher’s office.
While Eva had every right to help free her brother from his prison, he feared she might be too lenient, feared Hemming might hurt her in a bid to escape.
“I’ll be perfectly safe,” she said, glancing at Cole and Bower seated opposite. “Besides, I presume Mr Hemming will be at home in bed at this hour.”
Cole’s hum rang with doubt. “In my experience, a felon rarely leaves a hostage unattended. I expect Hemming will be close.”
Beside him, Eva trembled at the mention of the publisher’s name. She cast Noah a sidelong glance and smiled. “What can Mr Hemming do when I have three strong men as my protectors?”
It was Noah’s turn to shiver. Hemming could fire a pistol in the dark and hit the wrong target. He could throw a punch. She might fall, hit her head on the grate. The rooms inside were small and cramped. How could he protect her during the mad scramble, the chaos?
Both Bower and Cole stared at him, waiting for his reply.
The weight of responsibility bore down on his shoulders. No man deserved to live with the pain of regret, but Eva was in just as much danger in
