“Stockings?” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “I made no mention of stockings.”
“No.” Amusement danced in his emerald eyes. “But I’m confident they were on the washing line with your other undergarments.”
Eva swallowed. “Yes.”
“I wonder why you didn’t mention it.” The devil was teasing her again, flashing the sensual grin that made a simple undergarment seem highly indecent. “Perhaps you think I’m a man whose senses are easily aroused. I can assure you they are not.”
So why had his eyes glazed when drifting up past her boots?
“I would like you to find my brother,” she began, ignoring his previous comment for she lacked the skills needed when dealing with experienced men. “I want to know who stole my shoes and stockings. Who is blackmailing me? Who killed the cobbler? In short, Mr Ashwood, I need your help in every regard.”
“You ask a great deal.”
“I am confident you will rise to the challenge.”
“I’ve had no complaints.”
“Then I have chosen the right agent. It is my belief, that like the intricate strands of a spider’s web, all events are connected.”
The man moved to perch on the edge of his desk, the action drawing attention to the breadth of his solid thighs. “If I take this case, I will want to search your house, search your bedchamber. I will ask intimate questions, delve into your private affairs. Can you handle my intrusion, Miss Dunn?”
The smooth timbre of his voice left her a little breathless. “I—I shall tell you anything you need to know.”
“I have your assurance you will follow my instruction?”
Eva nodded. There was strength in knowing one’s limitations. “Yes. I shall bow to your wealth of experience in all matters. I shall do anything you ask of me.”
He arched a sinful brow. “Anything?”
“When it comes to solving the case, of course.”
“Of course. And you will be forthcoming with personal information?”
“I have nothing to hide, sir.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
She would have to tell him about the dreadful thing Howard had done.
Something so awful it shamed her to speak of it.
Something so appalling it gave his enemy a motive to commit murder.
Chapter 3
Noah’s willingness to take Miss Dunn’s case had nothing to do with her missing brother. The rogue had either fled the country or was a weighted corpse bobbing on the riverbed. Not that he would speak openly about the latter, not without proof. But he knew with absolute certainty Dermot Flannery was not to blame.
Noah’s reason for playing knight errant had nothing to do with blackmail or missing undergarments. Though when Miss Dunn blushed at the mere mention of her stockings, his heart had softened. And while he would do everything in his power to find and punish the villain who attacked her in the street, a different predator prompted his inner fury.
Indeed, he despised men who preyed on women down on their luck. And so his need to free Miss Dunn from the clutches of her lecherous publisher proved his main motivation for accepting the case.
“Did the blackmailer detail when and how you should pay?”
“No, sir. He will inform me where to make the deposit in due course.”
“I see.” The first demand was a test to see if she alerted the authorities. “And who knows you write as Cain Dunnavan?”
She shrugged. “My brother, my publisher and an old friend.”
Strange that she listed them in that order as her brother would be top of his list of suspects.
“Would you wait here for a moment, Miss Dunn?”
“Certainly.” The lady’s affected smile failed to reach her eyes. She was more anxious than she would have him believe.
Noah admired that.
Women used many techniques to incite a man’s pity. There was something about Miss Dunn’s proud chin he found appealing. There was something about the whole package that held him captive.
Noah left the lady scribbling in her notebook and returned to the drawing room. His friends were still drinking coffee and studying the broadsheets, noting information that might prove pertinent to future cases.
“Cole, may I speak to you privately?”
All three men glanced up from their relaxed positions on the sofas, their expressions brimming with curiosity.
“Of course.” Cole folded his newspaper and placed it on the low table next to the coffee pot.
Noah strode to the dining room, and Cole joined him there.
“You’re taking the case, I presume,” Cole said, closing the door.
“You know I hate to see a woman in distress.”
Society had treated Noah’s mother like a pariah after his father’s untimely death. He had been a boy of ten, but the disastrous event afterwards left a gaping wound in his heart that had never healed.
Cole arched a brow. “Yet Miss Dunn appeared so composed.”
“Appeared being the operative word.”
“And your offer of assistance has nothing to do with the fact you find her interesting? I saw a glimmer of satisfaction in your eyes when she chose you. Women rarely capture your notice.”
“You were paying close attention.”
“Daventry’s stance is firm when it comes to relationships with clients.” Cole’s dark gaze carried a clear warning.
Lucius Daventry had hired them nine months ago. He was the master of the Order. A man who sought to right injustices, too. Despite Daventry’s illegitimacy, he had inherited a vast sum from his father the Duke of Melverley, money he had put to good use. Before that, Daventry had worked tirelessly to help the innocent escape transportation or the hangman’s noose. And while the gentleman rarely took cases of his own these days, he was the true overseer.
“I’ll admit I find the lady interesting.” More interesting than any woman of his acquaintance, Noah thought. “But I have no intention of pursuing a relationship with Miss Dunn. I have a job to do.” Every woman he helped eased the pain of regret over his mother’s suffering. If only for a short
