Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

Despite his military background, Bower worked as Lucius Daventry’s butler and played coachman on occasion. He had assisted his master during many late-night skirmishes at the docks and in the rookeries. He was loyal to a fault and would report directly to Daventry.

“Sloane and D’Angelo will work with Sir Malcolm to secure Manning’s arrest,” Daventry added. “Cole will assist you until the brother is found, and the debts satisfied. Perhaps let him deal directly with Miss Dunn. There’s not a woman alive who can rouse affection in his chest.”

Noah fought the urge to jump to his feet and protest. But the master of the Order cared about his members. Daventry had seen men die while working to save innocent victims. He was on a mission to ensure no one else died while in pursuit of the truth.

“What of Lord Benham?” Noah said. “He has a motive for murder.”

Daventry despised men who used their positions in society to escape their crimes. Not that Howard Dunn didn’t deserve punishment.

“It’s not as though I can call at his residence and question him about the disappearance of Howard Dunn,” Noah added. “I imagine the peer will go to great lengths to protect his sister.”

“And we would do the same in his position. Finding the brother is paramount.” Daventry spent a moment in quiet contemplation. “Lord Newberry is having a ball at his home in Cavendish Square. Benham will surely be there. I shall arrange for invitations. A few questions exchanged while sipping champagne will allow an opportunity to gauge Benham’s reaction.”

Noah inwardly groaned.

No doubt his uncle would be in attendance.

“It will take more than a glass of champagne to loosen Benham’s tongue.”

Lucius Daventry cast a wry smile. “Then use Miss Dunn as bait.”

Chapter 8

“Ma’am, you must make a choice soon.” Kathleen held up the bright blue gown Eva had worn the last time someone forced her to parade amongst quality. “You’re to leave for the ball in two hours, and I might need to make alterations.”

Eva didn’t want to make a choice. She wanted to slip beneath the coverlet and hide until dawn. While logic said Lord Benham was a prime suspect in her brother’s disappearance, the thought of being within a few feet of the viscount filled her with dismay.

“Ma’am?”

Eva’s gaze drifted to the exquisite red gown draped over the chair. She had purchased the material on a whim. Had taken it to a seamstress in Spitalfields who made the most remarkable creations for a reasonable price. The fantasy of being the most confident woman in the room—not the need to attract a gentleman’s eye—had been her motivation.

And yet all thoughts turned to Mr Ashwood.

One kiss—one pleasurable kiss—one kiss that had curled her toes and roasted her insides, had turned her mind to mush.

“The blue reflects the colour of your eyes, ma’am,” Kathleen continued, dragging Eva from her reverie.

“The blue is best worn with jewels. And the only slippers I possess have red bows.” She was making excuses. Trying to delay the inevitable. The only saving grace was that she didn’t have to face Lord Benham alone.

Kathleen winced before daring to say, “Ma’am, I can change the bows.”

The suggestion brought a lump to Eva’s throat. “They were my mother’s favourite slippers. I haven’t the heart to change a thing.”

Thoughts turned to the diamond earrings, the ruby brooch and the pretty topaz and cannetille necklace, stolen by the rogue whose desire to cherish the jewels should have taken precedence over saving his own scrawny neck.

“No, I shall wear red,” Eva said with renewed determination.

But how would she maintain an air of confidence with Mr Ashwood at her side? A mere glance from the man turned her into a quivering wreck.

And how was she to hold her head high knowing of the dreadful things her brother had done? Equally, her father was famous for being one of the greatest profligates of his time. And she still hadn’t explained to Mr Ashwood how she knew Clara Swales, let alone inform him of Lord Benham’s role in this dreadful business.

“The red is so daring I won’t need jewels.”

“You’ll need rouge, ma’am,” Kathleen said, returning the blue dress to the armoire. “Just a touch on your cheeks. A light pass of carmine blush will do the trick.”

Eva groaned as an internal war raged.

The thought of a night spent mingling in society brought on a bout of nausea. The thought of a night spent laughing and dancing with Mr Ashwood filled her with a different feeling entirely.