Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

Mr Ashwood nodded. “And do you have any idea how the villain entered the house?”

Kathleen shrugged. “Bardsley must have left the front door unlocked w

hen Miss Dunn went out last night.”

“That would have been rather fortuitous for a passing thief.” Mr Ashwood’s voice dripped with sarcasm. He shot Eva a curious glance. “There was no sign of forced entry?”

“No.” She knew what he was thinking without him uttering a word. He believed Howard had returned and stolen her shoes and boots.

Her theory proved correct when Mr Ashwood said, “Presumably Mr Dunn has a door key.”

“He does, sir, but no one has seen the master for a week.”

The master!

Had Kathleen forgotten who paid her wages?

“That does not mean he wasn’t here.” Mr Ashwood’s expression remained unreadable, though there was a devilish glint of amusement in his eyes when he said, “Would you escort me to your bedchamber, Miss Dunn? I’m sure Kathleen will fetch tea for Mrs Sawyer while the matron awaits our return.”

“Of course.” Eva’s heartbeat pounded in her chest. “Come with me, Mr Ashwood.”

Climbing the stairs proved an arduous task with a handsome gentleman in tow. Her legs were as heavy as lead weights. She had to grip the handrail to propel herself forward. Mr Ashwood’s gaze bored into her back as he trailed too closely behind.

“Might I examine your brother’s room first?” he said when they reached the landing.

“Certainly.” The distraction would give her time to gather her composure, and so she gestured to the door at the far end of the corridor.

He pushed open the door to Howard’s chamber and entered. “Do you recall the last conversation you had with your brother?”

Eva followed Mr Ashwood into the room. “Yes.”

They had fought. Howard had said terrible things. Called her every cruel name. Cursed her to the devil. Hurt her for the last time.

Mr Ashwood opened the top drawer of the gentleman’s dressing chest, removed a gold cravat pin and twirled it between long, elegant fingers. “Are you determined to keep me in the dark, Miss Dunn, or will you explain the reason for your argument?”

“How do you know we argued?”

Mr Ashwood closed the top drawer. He opened the one beneath and rummaged through the silk cravats. “Your brother is a wastrel. You cut your maid short when you feared she would reveal something of his scandalous ways.”

It was time to make a small confession. “Howard wanted money. I refused, and so he stole the paltry sum I kept hidden in a box under my bed.”

“I see. Then it’s possible your brother sent the blackmail note.” He moved to the armoire and studied the array of well-tailored coats and embroidered silk waistcoats. “If I press you further—and I intend to press you much further, Miss Dunn—you will tell me he asked for a thousand pounds. The exact sum requested in the demand.”

Silence ensued.

Was there anything Mr Ashwood didn’t know?

The man was so perceptive he could tell fortunes at the fair.

Her reasons for secrecy had nothing to do with protecting Howard. The cad was capable of the worst kind of atrocities. No. The last thing she wanted was for Mr Ashwood to think her a naive fool.

But pride be damned.

“Howard’s initial request was for two thousand pounds,” she admitted. “I was shrewd enough to invest the small sum left to me by Mr Becker. Howard pleaded poverty and insisted I visit the bank.” There was no reasoning with a man whose evil addictions had taken possession of his character. “He demanded my footman serve as his valet. Indeed, he seemed to think he had the run of the house.”

Mr Ashwood turned to face her, his jaw firm, his expression severe. “When we find your wayward brother, I shall blacken his eyes and break his nose.”

“And I shall applaud you for it, sir.”