Daventry coughed to gain their attention. “Miss Hart, good people commit terrible crimes when pushed to the brink.”
Evan touched her upper arm, for he saw the war between logic and loyalty raging in her dark eyes. “Ask yourself why you haven’t told the countess about the contract. You have a host of exceptional qualities, so why did she not round up eligible men to fill your dance card? Why did she leave you alone in the ballroom with those deemed unpopular?”
Tears brimmed as she looked into Evan’s eyes, but she dashed them away. “You know how reckless I can be. I kept to the shadows because I did not wish to embarrass the countess. But you’re right, she did not encourage me to do anything other than watch the merriment from my chair.”
“Then like the rest of society, she is blind to what truly matters.”
What currently mattered to him was making Vivienne Hart smile. He wanted to hear her laugh so hard her ribs ached, to see tears of joy. He wanted to draw a deep moan from her lips as she found her release. He wanted to buy her the finest silk gown, drape rubies around her throat, have every man see what he’d seen when she stood before him in a damp dress and muddy stockings.
Vivienne!
The urge to kiss away her feelings of inadequacy burned. This woman had pushed through his blockade to cause untold havoc with his conscience.
“Should I consider everyone a villain?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Who can I trust?”
He squeezed her arm gently. “You can trust me, Vivienne.”
She gasped upon hearing her given name fall from his lips. Wait until she heard him pant her name as he thrust into her willing body. The kiss had awakened her hidden passions, stirred a craving she would need to satisfy. And a woman need not feel ashamed about making love to her husband.
“You can trust all those who work for the Order,” Daventry added. “Cole will find out what he can about Mr Ramsey. D’Angelo will investigate the lawyer and his nephew.”
“But I’m working on the widow Emery’s case,” D’Angelo countered.
A man claiming to be a wealthy merchant had duped the widow. He had paid for a clock worth two hundred pounds by cheque and vanished after taking delivery. It was a simple case of fraud, and the widow was unlikely to receive recompense, yet D’Angelo seemed overly keen to trace the merchant.
Daventry glanced at D’Angelo. “I’ve no issue with you working both cases.”
“Perhaps I might use my newly inherited title to learn more about the countess,” Ashwood said. He turned to Miss Hart. “I shall be discreet and respectful of the lady’s position. The countess will know nothing of my enquiries into her background.”
Miss Hart gave a solemn nod.
“Sloane, that leaves you to visit Doctors’ Commons, to question Charles Sloane and anyone else you feel is pertinent to the case.” Daventry only had to raise a brow, and Sloane knew what the man meant. Buchanan and Mrs McCready could be considered suspects, too.
“And what of me, sir?” Miss Hart spoke as if she were an appointed member of the Order.
Daventry smiled. “According to Sloane, you have a keen eye for observation, Miss Hart. Might I suggest you use your talents to discover why Mr Golding mentioned the poem by Thomas Gray? It is, without doubt, another clue to finding your legacy.”
Abandoning her solemn mood, Miss Hart clapped her hands with excitement. “If I’ve time, I shall visit the circulating library today.”
“I have a few poems by Gray,” Ashwood said, “and shall have a footman deliver them to your home, Miss Hart. Gray is known as one of the Graveyard Poets. It might be relevant.”
Having failed to mention the lady was removing to Keel Hall, Evan braced himself for more sly grins and twitching brows.
“Most relevant, my lord. Please have your footman deliver them to Mr Sloane’s abode. I’m to reside there until we catch the masked fiend.”
The men swapped amused glances but said nothing other than to probe Miss Hart for information about Mr Ramsey and Mr Golding.
Daventry took a moment to pull Evan aside and gave an inconspicuous nod in Miss Hart’s direction. “She’s far from your usual choice of companion. Original. Spirited. A confusing package of contradictions. You realise you’re out of your depth with this one.”
“Out of my depth?” Evan snorted. He had been drowning for days. “Since meeting her, I’ve barely surfaced for air.”
Chapter 10
Producing a letter signed by a deceased First Lord of the Admiralty caused a stir at Doctors’ Commons. It took three days for the admiralty to confirm it was legitimate, for the proctor to consult the archbishop and for them to summon Mr Sloane to collect the special licence.
And while Vivienne’s examination of Thomas Gray’s poems failed to reveal any answers regarding their legacy, other problems brought a halt to the investigation and their wedding plans.
No one at Charles Sloane’s house in Bloomsbury Square would reveal their master’s direction. After some poking into his distant cousin’s affairs, Mr Sloane discovered the man kept a mistress in Guilford Street near the Foundling Hospital, though she was currently out of town.