Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

“Oh, we’ll have vengeance all right,” the brute said. “Make no mistake.”

Noah reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the banknotes. “I have your word Howard Dunn fled, and you’ve not seen him since?” When the men nodded, Noah slapped the notes on the table and added, “To your knowledge, Dunn is still alive?”

Both men shrugged.

The ugly brother covered the notes with his gnarled hand. “I hear we’re not the only ones out for blood, but this settles the debt.”

“I have your word that’s the end of the matter?”

“You have our word,” they said in unison.

The pretty brother suddenly came to his feet, the loud scraping of the chair on the boards failing to capture the crowd’s attention. “Let me see you to the door, Mr Ashwood.”

Noah braced himself. A nervous tension thrummed in the air. The Turners were fair men, but vicious and unpredictable when in a temper.

They walked towards the door amid the mournful ballad that had the one-armed man weeping. The scrawny fellow keeping guard at the entrance raised the lid on the wicker basket and invited Cole to take his swordstick.

“The information about Diable,” the pretty brother began, “it’s worth more than a thousand pounds. Never let it be said the Turners don’t show their gratitude. And so we’re in your debt, Mr Ashwood.” He gestured to the lean fellow with the terrible scar. “Send word to Wynn when you want to call it in.”

“You trust my word regarding Diable?”

The brother gave a sinister grin. “You’re not a fool. A lie to a Turner is like a death wish.” And with that, he turned on his heel and sauntered back to his corner table.

Noah and Cole left the subdued crowd in the tavern and rejoined the recalcitrant mob on the streets. They spent the brief walk back to Tower Hill discussing what they knew about Howard Dunn.

“He has to be the one who sent the blackmail note,” Noah said. Howard Dunn would wish he’d been captured by the Turners when Noah was finished with him. “And you’re certain he has no friends who might have provided lodgings?”

“Quite certain. Most people gave him the cut when they learned he owed money to unscrupulous lenders.”

“Then he is living somewhere in town. Somewhere close to Temple Gardens by my reckoning.”

Thankfully, they reached the carriage without incident. Noah instructed McGuffey to take Cole to Golden Square before returning to Wigmore Street.

They sat in companionable silence as the carriage rumbled through the dim thoroughfares. Noah’s thoughts turned to the enchanting woman waiting for him at home. The profound yearning made him think of Cole’s plight.

“I know I insisted Lady Adair play chaperone,” Noah began in a bid to gauge his friend’s reaction, “but I’m surprised she made herself available at such short notice.”

Cole was no fool. He could spot a poacher’s trap hidden in the undergrowth from a hundred yards. “I presume she attends every major function. It would have been no hardship.”

“I didn’t mean to make things awkward, but knew she would assist you without question.” One only had to spend a few minutes in a room with Sophia and Cole to feel the tension, the desperation, the suppressed passion in the air.

Cole turned and stared out of the window. “I’ve no desire to discuss my relationship with Sophia Adair.” His voice held a steely edge. “The matter is closed. Done. One cannot alter the past.”

And yet the past tormented him, ate away at his soul. As Cole’s friend, Noah felt compelled to help him find peace.

Noah stared through the gloom. “You did nothing wrong. You were not to blame.”

Cole released a sigh. “Sophia thought I was dead. She explained her reasons for marrying, and I respect them.”

No. Deep down, he was still hurt, still bitter. “I’m not talking about Sophia.” He was talking about the woman Cole married while still nursing a broken heart. “I’m talking about your wife. I’m talking about Hannah.”

The atmosphere in the carriage changed instantly. Noah could feel the panic, could sense the crippling torment before Cole shot forward in the seat and rapped hard on the roof.

“I cannot do this now,” Cole said as the carriage came crashing to a halt. “I shall meet you in Hart Street tomorrow as planned.” And with that, Cole vaulted to the pavement, slammed the door and stalked off into the night.

Noah spent the rest of the journey struggling to know how to help his friend. Cole’s grief had as much to do with his failings as it did the loss of his wife.

It was almost midnight by the time the carriage rolled up outside Noah’s home on Wigmore Street. No doubt Eva was asleep, and yet his need to ease the insistent ache saw him approach her bedchamber.