“No. Never.” And the likelihood of her ever wearing it was slim to none.
Seconds ticked before he said, “Two questions. Might I ask if the room was in disarray when you returned home? And where
do you keep your jewels?”
The first question was easy to answer.
The second roused bitter memories.
“The room was exactly as you see it now.” There had been no reason to suspect a thing. It wasn’t until she opened the armoire that she learned of the theft. “And I do not possess jewels, sir. I’m afraid my brother took the few items that belonged to my mother and sold them.”
“Took?”
“Stole.”
Mr Ashwood muttered a curse. “Then we shall add three broken fingers to the list of his impending injuries.” He took one last look around the room before removing his pocket watch and checking the time. “I think that is all for today.”
Eva was grateful for his intervention but hadn’t taken a full breath since meeting him this morning. “Now we’ve solved the mystery of my missing undergarments, what shall we tackle next?”
“Next, we visit your publisher.”
“Mr Hemming?” A boulder of a lump formed in her throat. The man had a wicked streak. He manipulated events to suit his purpose. “Must we involve him?”
“Arrange an appointment and send word to me in Hart Street. I shall have my carriage collect you in ample time.”
There was to be no discussion on the matter.
“I can see myself out, Miss Dunn. Spend the next few days preparing yourself for our next meeting.”
“Preparing myself?” Eva snorted. “For what exactly?”
Mr Ashwood arched a brow. “For divulging those elements of the tale you’ve neglected to mention.” He brought his wrist to his nostrils, his lips curling into a sinful grin as he inhaled. “I’ll have the complete story, or Mr D’Angelo will take your case. The decision is yours. Good day, Miss Dunn.”
Eva watched him stride from the room, though his powerful presence lingered in every conceivable space long after he’d descended the stairs.
Perhaps it would be better if she changed agents.
And yet she had grown surprisingly attached to Mr Ashwood. Indeed, his intense green eyes and intelligent mind held her spellbound. His sensual smile sent pulses of pleasure to all the wrong places. One thing was certain. When she lounged in her tub tonight, when she dabbed rosewater onto her bare skin and slipped into her luxurious bed, she would think of nothing but the enigmatic man who wrote erotic poetry.
Chapter 5
“Howard Dunn’s situation is worse than you thought.” Cole crossed the drawing room and dropped onto the sofa. His grave expression confirmed Noah’s worst fears.
Noah returned his coffee cup to the silver tray on the low table. They were the first men to arrive at Hart Street this morning, and so he probed his friend further.
“You mean the devil’s debts far outweigh his ability to pay?”
Cole reached for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “Howard Dunn’s debts amount to twelve thousand pounds. For affluent men, that’s an average month’s losses at the tables. But I’m told Mr Dunn’s creditors are tired of hearing his excuses.”
“So he owes Flannery twelve thousand pounds?” Much more than the paltry sum Miss Dunn mentioned.
“Five thousand,” Cole corrected. “Flannery extended Dunn credit as he’d had no issue settling his account before.”
“Presumably he owes another gaming hell the remaining seven.”
Cole’s tight lips and deep frown roused a wave of trepidation. “You won’t like the answer.” He paused. “Dunn owes the Turners four thousand.”
“The Turners!” Hellfire! Noah almost shot out of his seat. “Has the man lost his mind? Howard Dunn is a bloody imbecile.”