“Then let us be clear, sir. I have the utmost respect for Mr Ashwood.” Indeed, he had restored her faith, given her the belief there were honest men in the world. “I have no intention of making the case more difficult than it is already. So, for the third and final time, will your colleague be joining us this evening?”
After a moment of reflection, Mr Cole said, “The official answer is no. Another matter requires his attention. As his friend, I would not be surprised if he made an appearance.”
Her stomach grew hot upon hearing the news.
Perhaps Mr Cole had every reason to express his concern. This fleeting infatuation had taken command of her faculties, too.
A heavy silence ensued.
Nerves took hold as they neared Cavendish Square and the home of Lord Newberry. The fop had been a guest at Briden Castle two summers ago, along with his friend Lord Benham. Both men had lavished her with attention. It was Clara who first made Eva aware of the bet. A kindness that was a catalyst for the wealth of suffering that followed.
“It might help if you explain our objective for attending the ball this evening,” Eva said. She needed to prepare mentally for the clash with the viscount. “I presume we have invitations. That said, Lord Benham will probably have me thrown out.” And yet it wasn’t the viscount’s anger she feared, more his cunning and his need for vengeance.
“No one will ask us to leave. Daventry knows too much about Newberry’s nefarious dealings.”
“And will Lord Newberry provide a chaperone? Surely you know what people will say should they see us alone together.”
Eva didn’t care what people said. Most expected the worst. Like those poor souls during the revolution, her name was proof of her guilt. Besides, those who professed to be holier than thou and the epitome of high standards, were drunken debauchers who would murder their own mothers to move up the social ladder. Although seeing her in the company of another man was certain to rouse the viscount’s ire.
Mr Cole exhaled a weary sigh. “Mr Ashwood insisted I arrange for a companion. Someone respectable, trustworthy. Someone of his choosing. Someone with whom I share a history.”
Whoever this someone was, Mr Cole’s tone turned irritable the moment he spoke about the mystery lady. But there was no time to press him further. The carriage slowed, joining the queue stretching as far as Henrietta Street.
For fifteen minutes, they sat in morbid silence. Every jolt and jerk forward added to the crippling sense of trepidation. Music and the faint hum of laughter drifted through the cool night air, but it did nothing to ease the tension.
Mr Cole was every bit the respectable gentleman as he escorted Eva into the mansion house. From her brief encounter with Lord Newberry, she knew him to be a man who liked to flaunt his wealth. Tonight was no exception.
Magnificent ice sculptures, lavish champagne fountains and an alarming number of standing candelabra made for an extravagant affair.
Mr Cole’s mouth curled in disdain as he led Eva to their position near a grand marble fireplace, above which hung a huge portrait of their host.
Despite Mr Cole’s stony appearance, many men inclined their heads respectfully as they passed. Indeed, they seemed a little in awe of the brusque gentleman who had barely spoken two words to Eva since their arrival.
“At last,” he muttered beneath his breath as a graceful woman approached. Mr Cole scanned the lady’s figure-hugging emerald dress with a little more than indifference. He gave the silver-blonde curls teasing her elegant neck the same scrutiny.
“Finlay,” the lady said, her blue eyes as bright as her smile. “Or am I supposed to call you Raven?”
Mr Cole ignored the question and introduced Lady Adair, a widow approaching thirty whose porcelain skin would rival that of any young debutante.
“I must say, I was a little surprised to receive your note.” A slight tension lingered behind the lady’s friendly manner.
“Miss Dunn is without family or connections,” he replied soberly, “but it was imperative she attend tonight.”
“Is there a gentleman here you wish to impress, Miss Dunn?” Lady Adair scanned Eva’s red gown with a look of admiration, and yet a sliver of jealousy invaded her tone.
“I dress to please myself, my lady.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Tonight was the first time she had ever wanted to look beautiful as opposed to confident. She had thought of Mr Ashwood when dabbing rosewater to her throat. She had thought of Mr Ashwood when insisting Kathleen pull her stays tighter.
Lady Adair laughed. “Then you’re either a woman of great fortune or one of strong moral character.”
“I am neither.” She could not profess to be moral after the sinful way Mr Ashwood had devoured her mouth. Indeed, her traitorous body was in danger of permitting more shocking liberties. “But I have yet to meet a man worthy of my effort. Most are debauched degenerates filled with self-importance.”
That was not entirely true, either.
Mr Ashwood was the exception.
“On that point, I must agree.” The lady laughed as she stole a glance at Mr Cole. “And yet in my experience, good men rarely commit.”
Mr Cole cleared his throat. “A good man wants a woman who can warm his heart with the same fervent passion she warms his bed.”