A footman dressed in blue livery opened the door. His concerned frown became a welcoming smile, and he gazed at Mr Ashwood as if he were the prodigal son returned.
“I trust Hawkridge is at home.”
“Yes, sir.” The eager footman stepped back from the door and bid them entrance. “Knowles will announce you at once.”
Noah patted the servant on the upper arm, and for the briefest moment his anger dissipated. “It’s good to see you, William.”
“Likewise, sir.” The footman lowered his voice. “Things aren’t the same here since his lordship’s passing.”
“No. My grandfather was such a lively fellow. I imagine the house feels empty without him.”
“Terribly so, sir.”
The grey-haired butler appeared, his proud bearing softening the moment he laid eyes on Noah. “Mr Ashwood.” The older man’s smile was blinding. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon, Knowles. I’m here to see my uncle, though I should warn you the visit will be unpleasant.”
Both servants seemed rather pleased at the prospect.
“You won’t want tea then, sir,” Knowles teased.
“Not unless you wish to see the best china smashed into a hundred pieces.” Noah clasped the older man’s shoulder and lowered his voice, “Now, I wish to save you both from bearing the brunt of your master’s wrath, so we’ll play the usual game.”
Both men nodded.
A few seconds of silence ensued before Noah suddenly shouted, “Move out of my way! You’ll let me in, else I shall take the damn door off its hinges.”
“But, sir!” Knowles cried while William thumped the door and rattled the knocker. “Wait here!
Let me see if the master is at home!”
“I know he’s here. I want to see Hawkridge. Now!”
Knowles smiled and pointed to the study door. “Sir! You can’t go in there. Not without an appointment.”
A painfully thin lady with a solemn face appeared at the top of the stairs, though she made no attempt to control the situation.
Noah charged towards the door and marched into the room.
Mr Cole gestured for Eva to follow.
“What the devil do you mean barging in here like you own the house?” Lord Hawkridge slammed his hand on the desk and jumped from the chair in protest. “Knowles! Knowles! Call the constable!”
“Yes, call the damn constable.” Fists clenched, Noah rounded the desk. “I have evidence my uncle has committed a crime.”
The lord’s eyes widened in shock as Noah grabbed the pompous oaf by his lapels and dragged him to the plush bergere chair near the hearth.
“Get your damn hands off me,” Lord Hawkridge warned, though his outrage was but a flicker of a spark compared to Noah’s roaring flame.
Noah threw his uncle into the seat. “I’ve just questioned your hired lackey, Eric Blighty. He admitted following me to Miss Dunn’s house, spoke of a visit to Southwark last night.”
Lord Hawkridge sneered, though his beady brown eyes shifted rapidly. “Blighty? I’ve never heard of the devil.”
“I suppose you know nothing about him meeting a gang who work near the Wheatsheaf Brewery.” Noah braced his hands on the arms of the chair and pressed closer to the quivering lord. “Nothing about him paying a thug to hurl a bottle through Miss Dunn’s window.”
Eva gasped upon hearing the news.
Lord Hawkridge hired the thug?