The library door creaked open again, but—thank the Lord—it was Mr Cole who entered. He took one look at the situation and cursed beneath his breath. “Listen to Miss Dunn. Let Benham go.”
Mr Ashwood released his grip.
The viscount sagged forward and clutched his throat as he gasped for air.
“If you wish to take this further,” Mr Ashwood said, the fire in his eyes still burning, “I shall await your dawn invitation. I name Finlay Cole as my second.”
Lord Benham was a cruel individual, but he was not a fool. Still, Mr Ashwood’s anger radiated, and the viscount might easily provoke him.
“I’m sure Lord Benham understands that he said something wholly inappropriate,” Eva said with some desperation. “That he deserved your retaliation. Let us leave him to catch his breath and reflect on who was to blame.” She flashed a pleading gaze at Mr Cole.
“I’m sure Benham knows that an enemy of Ashwood’s is an enemy of mine,” Mr Cole said, his tone razor sharp. “A wise man chooses his battles.”
“Come.” Eva tugged Mr Ashwood’s coat sleeve. “We should leave.”
Mr Ashwood shot her an irate stare. “Damn right, we should.” Without warning, he captured her elbow and propelled her towards the door.
Lord Benham remained silent, though Eva felt the whip of his disdain lashing her back, sharp enough to draw blood.
Mr Cole peered around the jamb and surveyed the corridor before ushering them out of the room. “I presume you walked here. We can take my carriage.”
But Mr Ashwood had other plans.
“Stay here, Cole. Entertain Lady Adair. I shall see Miss Dunn home.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise. Daventry will have something to say about—”
“Sod Daventry.”
Mr Ashwood didn’t care for his friend’s opinion. He didn’t care who saw him steering her possessively through the corridor.
A gentleman with a patrician nose and an arrogant mouth pushed away from the wall as they approached. “Ah, Ashwood,” he said, attempting to block their path. “I heard you were here. Causing trouble again, I see. And who is this delightful—”
“Bugger off!” Mr Ashwood barged shoulders with the fellow and continued towards the front door.
“Who was that?”
“Hawkridge.”
“Your uncle?”
His reply was but a muttered curse.
“Where are we going?” she whispered as numerous people turned their heads and gaped as he led her out into Cavendish Square. “I thought you were concerned about my reputation.”
“Your brother is a scoundrel. Your recklessness this evening will be a talking point for months. The damage is done.”
She could not argue with his logic.
“When I said you should get Lord Benham’s attention,” he said, navigating her around the row of parked carriages in the square, “I advised you to use your wits, not place yourself in a perilous situation.”
“But he refuses to acknowledge me in public. How else was I to gain an audience?”
“You wait until you have something with which to bargain.”
“Then what was the purpose of attending the ball?” She would have preferred to stay at home.
Mr Ashwood sighed. “To gauge his reaction when Cole mentioned your brother. To see how he would behave knowing you were here. To find an excuse to call at his home and question him further.”