Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

The Turner brothers—no one knew their given names—were violent men who worked out of The Compass Inn in Rosemary Lane. Fixing boxing bouts was their speciality. No doubt Howard Dunn had been fool enough to gamble on a prizefighter with bow legs and a weak left hook.

“Then there’s every chance Howard Dunn is dead,” Noah said, dreading the thought of explaining the seriousness of the problem to Miss Dunn. “It’s said their bull terrier can sink its teeth into a man’s jugular and rip his throat clean out.”

Cole snorted, yet the sound held no amusement. “Ordinarily, I would taunt you for lending weight to gossip, but that dog is reputed to be as vicious as its owners.”

Noah cursed.

The news complicated matters. Logic said Howard Dunn hadn’t fled to France for the summer, looking to charm a wealthy widow into covering his debts. The fact his clothes still hung in the armoire did not bode well. An unpaid debt to the Turners was like a signature on a death warrant.

“And what of the other three thousand?” Noah asked, foolishly thinking that nothing could be worse than owing a debt to the Turners.

Cole drained his cup as if it contained something far more potent than coffee. The temporary distraction failed to conceal his look of dread. “The idiot borrowed money from a lender in Gower Street.”

“Gower Street?” Noah’s blood ran cold. “Tell me you’re not referring to Mr Manning.”

Or Mortuary Manning as he was known on the streets. Anyone who crossed the moneylender ended up stiff on a mortuary slab. He was the sort to bludgeon a cobbler to death for information.

Cole nodded. “Most men would rather do a stint in the Marshalsea than borrow from Manning.”

“Bloody fool,” Noah muttered.

“And what relation is this fool to Miss Dunn?”

“Her brother.”

“Then you should prepare her for the worst.” Cole’s dark eyes conveyed the gravity of the situation. “I don’t need to remind you that Manning harasses the family of those who cannot pay their debts.”

“No, you don’t need to remind me. With luck, we’ll find the blighter before it comes to that.”

Noah scrubbed his face to ease the tension. Manning didn’t care who he hurt as long as he got his money. Though if Miss Dunn’s attacker had been working for the brute, she would have a broken leg, not a bruised thigh.

A vision of the woman’s marred thigh filled his mind. Vengeance simmered. The thug would pay for attacking a helpless woman in the street. A frisson of desire rippled through him, too. What was it about Miss Dunn he found so alluring?

“I have no appointments today,” Cole said, disturbing Noah’s reverie. “Perhaps I might assist you in your investigation.”

Only a fool would attempt to deal with Mortuary Manning and the Turners without support. “I’m to accompany Miss Dunn to an appointment in Tavistock Street at eleven. I’ll explain more when I return.” He couldn’t mention the publisher, couldn’t break Miss Dunn’s confidence without gaining her permission. “Howard Dunn lost his apartment at the Albany to Lord Greymere in a game of hazard. I need to know if there’s truth to the story. And see if you can compile a list of Dunn’s friends and associates.”

Cole nodded. “We should inform D’Angelo and Sloane that we’re investigating Manning and the Turners.”

“Agreed.”

It paid to be cautious.

And yet Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that the case was about to become even more complicated. Indeed, Miss Dunn had a secret. A terrible secret. Something far worse than admitting her brother was a wasteful degenerate.

* * *

Noah hoped to spend a few minutes alone in the carriage, composing himself and settling into the role of investigator, yet punctuality was another trait of Miss Dunn’s he admired.

“Good morning, Mr Ashwood.” She fixed her gaze upon him and smiled. “I see you’ve shaved.”

“Good morning, Miss Dunn.” He stroked his smooth jaw. “We don’t want your publisher thinking you’ve formed a friendship with a vagrant.”

“I rather liked your beard.”

“I’m certain you’ll see it again.”

She accepted his proffered hand and climbed into the carriage. Today, she wore a dark grey pelisse, the matching bonnet adorned with delicate red rosebuds. Grey, because it was practical. The silk flowers added a hint of sensuality.