Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

“No, sir.”

“And yet the stolen stockings were not the ones your mistress wore yesterday,” he stated. “They were ripped during the attack in the street.”

How the devil did he know that?

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. They were the stockings from the previous day.”

“Do you not keep to a strict washday?”

“No, sir, not when I’ve just the mistress’ clothes to launder.”

“What about Miss Dunn’s chemise?” Mr Ashwood’s verdant gaze journeyed the length of Eva’s body as if she stood in nothing but the flimsy garment in question. “Why would you wash her petticoat and not the linen worn closest to the skin? You did wash her chemise?”

Kathleen’s blonde lashes fluttered in a panic. “Y-yes, sir.”

“So why was it not on the line?”

The maid stared blankly.

“This is Mrs Sawyer,” he continued in an impersonal tone. “She’s the matron who attended those entering the hospital this morning. She dealt with the distraught woman seen crying in the street.”

Eva studied the gentleman, in awe of his calm, controlled manner. Was there ever a time when he lost the firm grasp of his faculties? Was he ever unsettled, ever fearful?

“Is there something you wish to confess?” he said, taking a few slow steps towards the maid, swamping her petite frame. “Or shall I have Mrs Sawyer tell your mistress what happened this morning?”

Kathleen’s eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath and swung around to face Eva. “Forgive me, ma’am. I didn’t know what else to do. I shouldn’t have lied. I should have explained what happened, but with Mr Dunn missing and the issue with the money, I thought you’d be angry.”

Heavens above. Did she have to mention the money? When hunting for information, Mr Ashwood was like a hawk and could spot a mouse in a sprawling wheat field.

“You gave my petticoat and stockings to someone from the hospital?” Eva asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Howard.

“A woman must provide clothing for herself and her babe before she can enter the hospital,” Mr Ashwood said. “Am I correct, Mrs Sawyer?”

“Yes, sir,” the housekeeper replied, perfectly at ease in her acting role. “That’s correct.”

Kathleen whimpered. “I was out scrubbing the step this morning, and I saw a woman sobbing further down the street. She had given her papers two weeks ago and secured a place at the hospital. But her husband said she must have the babe at home and refused to let her take all her belongings.”

Eva frowned. She felt foolish for troubling Mr Ashwood over a mere household affair. “But if you’d come to me, I would have given the woman the clothes she needed. You know I make regular donations to the hospital.”

“But that was before Mr Dunn disappeared taking the—”

“The less said about Mr Dunn, the better,” Eva interposed far too abruptly. She tried to steal a covert glance at Mr Ashwood only to find the gentleman staring at her intently.

“You were still upset about what Mr Dunn did, ma’am, I didn’t want to add to the burden,” Kathleen said, much to Eva’s chagrin.

Eva pasted a smile and faced Mr Ashwood. “Forgive me for wasting your time this morning. It seems the undergarments were not stolen after all.”

“No,” he mused. The word carried a wealth of suspicion. “But the last few minutes have proved insightful.” Presumably, he had a host of questions for her, but he turned to Kathleen. “I trust you didn’t encounter a woman in the street who needed boots and shoes.”

“No, sir.” Kathleen rubbed her chapped fingers. “And I was taking supper when the thief entered the house.”

“And the intruder took nothing but Miss Dunn’s footwear?” He glanced at the maid’s feet. It was evident she wore boots, not dainty dancing slippers.

“Not that I noticed, sir.”

“Are those your boots?”

Kathleen shook her head. “They belong to Cook. They’re too small, sir, but I didn’t want to ruin my mistress’ beloved slippers.”