Dark Angel: Gentlemen of the Order - Book 4 by Clee Adele

Author:Clee, Adele
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Dante splashed cold water over his face, grabbed the linen towel from the washstand and dried the rivulets running down his neck and chest. He glanced at the poster bed he’d have to share with Noah Ashwood and decided he’d sleep in the wingback chair instead.

Beatrice and Ashwood had remained downstairs in the private parlour, discussing everything she had learnt this evening. No doubt it was a sensible conversation, two intelligent people plotting, making wise assumptions, not two people so attracted to one another they often used the case as a means to grow close.

That wasn’t why Dante suggested he sit in Beatrice’s chamber to give his statement. But something happened when they were alone. She chased away the ghosts, unlocked the chains shackling him to the past, made him feel unburdened. Free.

Having spent a third of his life surrounded by love and being too young to appreciate the majesty, a third living in a mire of hatred and distrust, he’d struggled to make sense of the world. Had latched on to the hope that solving the crime would bring absolution. Now he was another step closer to finding the villain, yet something else, someone else, held his attention.

A light knock on the door brought Ashwood. “Miss Sands is waiting for you when you’re ready, and I’ll be here if you need me.” An uncomfortable pause ensued. “D’Angelo, about Miss Sands.”

Dante grabbed his shirt and dragged it over his head. “She’s a good friend, kind and selfless, and I would not hurt her for the world.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Ashwood laughed as if recalling something she’d said earlier. “Miss Sands is excellent company, amusing, witty, not afraid to voice her opinion.”

“She’s exceptional in every regard.” Dante remembered her sitting on the floor in her silly trousers, swigging brandy as she tried to pull him out of his dark mood. “And she deserves better than this.”

“This?”

Dante shrugged. He meant she deserved better than working for a living, better than having to risk her life in the pursuit of justice. Better than him.

“She shouldn’t have to live in fear.”

“No.” Ashwood watched Dante quickly knot his cravat. “Like you, I pray it won’t be long before someone notices her worth. I know her options are limited, but I’m not sure I agree with the idea of female enquiry agents. At least not when they’re working alone in dangerous parts of town.”

The thought of Beatrice out scouring the rookeries at night, questioning unscrupulous villains, made Dante feel sick to the pit of his stomach.

“You should speak to Daventry,” he said, for someone had to. “Suggest he thinks carefully about the cases he gives his female agents.” And yet Beatrice would argue that chasing criminals was a respectable way for a woman without means to earn money. And considering Dante was her current case, he had no gripe with Daventry. “I should go and give my statement.”

The thought left him cold to his bones.

When Dante made to leave, Ashwood caught his arm. “We will find the person responsible.

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