“Never.”
“Then I thank you for your counsel, but you have nothing to fear.”
“We need you here,” Cole persisted. “D’Angelo needs someone to keep him in line. Perhaps I should take the case.”
The sudden flurry of panic in Noah’s chest should have served as a warning. Yet the need to discover more about the pretty novelist, the need to soothe her woes, burned in his veins. Working with Miss Dunn would be a real test of his commitment to the Order.
“I’m motivated to help desperate women, not seduce them.” Noah clasped Cole’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “I give you my word, should lust overcome logic, I will seek your advice.”
Cole nodded but seemed unconvinced. “You didn’t call me in here to discuss your attraction to Miss Dunn.”
“An attraction that will soon pass,” Noah reaffirmed. He was confident it would. “The lady’s case is complicated. I need you to visit Dermot Flannery and ask about his dealings with a man named Howard Dunn. By all accounts, he gambled away his inheritance at The Silver Serpent.”
Though Miss Dunn seemed honest to a fault, Noah never took a client at their word. Facts were often distorted. Tainted by bitter memories. Twisted into a story to support the victim’s argument.
“You want to know if Flannery owns this fellow’s vowels?”
“Indeed.” He decided not to tell Cole that Miss Dunn had found evidence of her brother’s debts. “Ask Flannery if Howard Dunn owes money to another establishment and enquire there, too.”
Cole arched a brow. “Daventry will want to know there’s more to the case than finding a lady’s wayward relative.”
“Tell him it involves blackmail and assault. That should appease him. I would visit Flannery myself, but I have a more pressing line of enquiry.” Noah didn’t mention he would be delving into the matter of the lady’s missing stockings.
“I can run your errand after my appointment at Bow Street.”
“Excellent.” He could trust Cole to do a thorough job.
They returned to the hall and spoke briefly about Cole’s meeting with Sir Malcolm Langley. It was important they kept good relations with the magistrate and the constables who worked on the streets.
Cole glanced at the closed study door. “Some women look innocent but know how to get under a man’s skin. Hell, she even had me desperate to learn what was written in that damn notebook.”
Noah couldn’t help but smile. Cole made Miss Dunn sound like a wicked temptress. Like those ladies who circled the ballrooms, flaunting their bulging bosoms, eager to capture every man’s eye. They failed to raise Noah’s gaze, let alone any other part of his anatomy. So what was it about Miss Dunn that left him eager to learn more?
Cole returned to the drawing room to finish his coffee. Noah returned to the study and found Miss Dunn wearing her spectacles and scrawling frantically in her little brown book. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence—she didn’t.
He cleared his throat.
The lady flicked her hand at him as if he were an annoying fly buzzing around her buttered scone. Women were usually eager for his attention. Never had one told him to “hush a moment”.
He perched on the edge of the desk like one of the vain vixens he despised, displaying his muscular thighs to advantage in the hope of luring Miss Dunn away from her scribblings. But it seemed nothing could disturb her concentration.
As soon as she’d written the last word, she thrust her book and pencil into her reticule, removed her spectacles and jumped to her feet.
“Forgive my rudeness, Mr Ashwood. I had an idea for a plot. The slightest distraction and I lose my train of thought.”
He glanced around the study. “One wonders what you found to inspire you in here.”
“You’d be surprised.” Her bright blue gaze turned coy. “Perhaps I might tell you when I have explored the idea further.”
“I shall look forward to the prospect.”
She stole a glance at his buckskin breeches, and he imagined pulling her between his legs and giving her a far more salacious storyline. A tale of a couple who succumb to their wicked desires while solving a case of mischief and mayhem.
Hellfire!
To rein in his erotic thoughts, he glanced at the painting of the goddess Themis above the mantel. Her weighing scales were a symbol of justice, but a reminder one prospered when life had balance. Perhaps he spent too much time working, not enough time enjoying leisurely pursuits. Perhaps that was why this woman roused a strange craving deep in his chest.
“It is rare for a client to accompany me on an investigation, Miss Dunn. But in this instance, I require your insight.”
The lady’s countenance brightened. “Oh, how exciting. Are we to visit Mr Flannery’s gaming hell? I’ve longed to see if it’s as wild as they say. That would be the most logical way to begin proceedings.”
“Indeed. However, my associate will visit Flannery. You can help by answering two questions so I may determine the location of our first appointment.”
A frown replaced her look of bitter disappointment. “How do you know you need my assistance if you have no notion where we’re going?”
“Just answer the questions, Miss Dunn. I need your address and your given name.” He didn’t need her given name, just an initial would suffice, but he was curious.
“Yes, of course. I own a house on Brownlow Street, opposite the Lying-In Hospital. It’s a short walk from here.”
She owned the house?
“You live alone, not with your brother?”
“I inherited the house when my godfather died. Howard got the apartment in the Albany but now lives with me. He lost the apartment to Lord Greymore in a game of hazard.”
Howard Dunn was a bloody buffoon. A dissolute wastrel. Everything Noah despised. Yet the information proved useful. It supported his initial theory that Howard Dunn was in hiding. That he sent the blackmail note to his sister hoping to gain funds to pay his debt. Noah would lay odds Miss Dunn had refused to lend her
