Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

The flash of fear in her eyes made his heart lurch.

“I have no issue if he makes a house call,” she said despite swallowing numerous times. “I just don’t want to be alone with him in his office.”

“I would avoid all contact for the foreseeable future.”

The carriage rattled to a halt outside her home in Brownlow Street. Again, the comings and goings at the hospital drew his attention. A woman pushing a perambulator had stopped at the entrance while a matron cooed over the infant.

“Living across from the hospital must remind you of your poor friend’s plight,” he said. “It must take its toll.”

Her strained smile and watery eyes revealed an inner torment.

“Perhaps your brother grew tired of the reminder and has sought refuge elsewhere for a time,” Noah added. He didn’t necessarily believe that. Indeed, he would visit the mortuary before returning to Hart Street and examine those bodies dragged from the river.

“Howard constantly complains about the noise from the hospital. But then he complains about everything, money mostly.”

She was best rid of the rogue, in Noah’s opinion.

The thought of Howard Dunn’s demise prompted him to say, “On the subject of your brother’s recklessness with money, I must convey the full extent of his debts.” But how did he tell her about Manning without scaring her half to death? “He’s in the mire. Deeper than you suspect.”

“How deep?” Mild panic pervaded her tone.

“He owes twelve thousand pounds to various creditors.”

“Twelve thousand?” Her mouth fell open. “The fool.”

“He borrowed from a notorious moneylender.” Noah paused, overcome with the sudden suspicion the cad was already buried in a shallow grave. “And from men who will most likely beat him to death if he fails to pay.”

“He deserves nothing less,” she said, though her face grew pale, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Know that I will … that the Order will do everything in their power to see this matter right.”

She nodded. “I have a lot to thank you for, Mr Ashwood. And while we’re discussing money, I hope you understand why I must repay my debt in instalments.”

“Your debt?”

Her shoulders sagged. “The hundred pounds you gave to Mr Hemming.”

“It was not a loan, Miss Dunn. We are permitted to claim expenses when dealing with a case.” Noah briefly explained Lucius Daventry’s role as master of the Order. He could hardly say that he’d paid the publisher from his personal funds.

She seemed disappointed that he was not solely responsible for the generous gesture. Hell, Daventry would never have parted with such an extortionate sum. Not when Hemming was guilty of nothing but having wandering hands and amorous intentions.

“I cannot accept Mr Daventry’s charity.” She shook her head numerous times to make her point. “I assume some people who seek your help are penniless. My circumstances are far better than most. No. Please explain to Mr Daventry that I will repay the debt as soon as reasonably possible.”

Noah nodded and smiled while fighting the urge to kiss the sadness from her downturned lips.

“My publisher is out of town for a few days though he has agreed to see you upon his return. Based on previous sales, I’m sure your current work in progress will be of interest to him.”

Her pained smile said something was amiss. “Thank you, Mr Ashwood. You have been most helpful. Inspiration is a little slow at the moment, but I’m confident things will improve. And I can always take work at the hospital in the interim.”

The structured speech hid a wealth of torment. He would lay odds she had not written a word since the shameful situation with Miss Swales. And yet to survive, she would place herself in a hospital full of tragic stories and crying infants—a constant reminder of her brother’s failings.

Damn the devil.

Noah rubbed his jaw and unleashed another silent curse. He should be solving the mystery of her missing brother, not worrying about healing Miss Dunn’s wounded heart.

“I wonder, might I have the blackmail note to examine?” he said, attempting to focus. “Do you have a sample of Mr Hemming’s writing and that of your brother’s?”

“Yes, I have both. But if you’re trying to identify the sender, I have already concluded neither man wrote the note. Of course, that doesn’t mean someone else didn’t write it on their behalf.”