Chapter 3

3

O rendel, who'd always struck Adrian as a spirited man with a pleasant demeanor, looked like he'd aged three decades since Adrian last saw him a couple of months ago. His slender frame appeared brittle, the clothes he'd chosen to wear a touch somber. Dark smudges shadowed the skin beneath his eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line.

"I was going to offer you tea or coffee," Adrian said once they'd greeted each other, "but you look like you might prefer something stronger."

"A brandy, if it's not too much trouble." It sounded like he struggled to get the words out.

Adrian had no desire for additional drink himself, so he asked Elks to have some coffee brought in before going to fill a glass for his guest. "Your visit caught me a bit by surprise." He handed Orendel the glass and observed the slight tremble in his hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

Orendel downed the brandy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's my daughter."

Adrian tilted his head. The way he said it…

That same icy shiver he'd known when he'd heard of his sister's death traced the length of his spine. He took the glass Orendel held and went to refill it. "Which one?"

"Eleanor. She…" A series of raspy breaths followed before the earl managed to say, "She was murdered last night."

Adrian froze, his fingers gripping the cut crystal tumbler, the decanter forgotten as another vision from another crime scene flashed before his eyes. Mouth dry, he flexed his muscles against the unbidden memory, shook himself free from the web it cast over his mind, and poured Orendel's drink.

"My sincerest condolences, my lord." He handed the glass to the earl and invited him to sit. "Having been in your situation, I sympathize with you."

Orendel drank, his hand shaking so violently now that he spilled the brandy, causing the liquid to slide down his chin. He wiped it away, brows dipping above mournful eyes. A strenuous breath scratched the air. "I'm still coming to terms with the tragedy of it and…my God, Croft… She was brutalized in ways you cannot imagine."

Tears welled in Orendel's eyes and when he spoke next, his voice was a choppy whine of pure sorrow. "What sort of monster would do this?"

Adrian couldn't imagine. He knew very little of Lady Eleanor, had no idea what sort of person she'd been or why anyone might want to harm her. As for his own sister, Evie, the killer had made a tragic mistake, believing her guilty of something she'd had no part in.

A knock at the door was a welcome distraction. One of his maids entered with a tray which she placed on the desk. She poured Adrian's coffee, added a splash of milk, and departed.

Orendel, slumped in his chair, the glass between his hands, seemed to have lost himself in some internal musing. Adrian sipped his coffee, set the cup aside with a soft clink, and asked him bluntly, "Why have you come here?"

Orendel raised his gaze, desperation straining his features. "I want your help."

"In what capacity?"

"Whoever did this…I don't want to leave their fate in Bow Street's hands."

This was something Adrian understood. "You don't trust them to catch the villain?"

"It's…it's not that." A shudder went through the earl's shoulders. He seemed to struggle with his composure, gulping down air until he'd managed to calm himself enough to say, "I want the person who did this delivered to me."

Adrian didn't move a muscle. He kept his expression neutral, forced himself to remain completely still while allowing Orendel's implication to settle. Taking a moment to think, he reached for his cup and gave himself the time to enjoy another sip of his coffee while figuring out the correct response.

Choosing to err on the side of caution, he finally told him, "Your desire to mete out your own justice is understandable, but it's not a matter I'm able to help you achieve. Whatever my reputation may be, I'll not be party to torture or murder, which is what I presume you have in mind."

Orendel stared across the desk at him, his gaze suddenly sharp and shockingly clear. "The rumors about you say otherwise. In fact, it's believed that Newton did not hang himself from St. Bartholomew's church tower, but that he was put there by you."

"A falsehood," Adrian lied, refusing to give away anything that might convict him of murder when Newton had gotten what he'd deserved. "According to the papers, a confession was found on his person. Clearly, he took his own life out of guilt."

"I don't believe that. Neither does anyone else, though you may rest assured there will be no further investigation into the matter. Everyone is too relieved by Newton's death to worry about how it happened. Especially since there is, from what I gather, no evidence of your involvement other than Mr. Nigel Lawrence's claim that you managed to catch Newton the night before his body was found. Seems unlikely to me that you'd let your sister's murderer slip through your fingers. "

Adrian held Orendel's hard gaze while fighting the increased strain in his muscles. He wanted to leap from his chair, grab the earl by his throat, insist he retract every word. Of course Lawrence would prove a problem. Adrian had known it as soon as he'd mentioned catching Newton in Lawrence's presence.

"You're wrong. Newton managed to give me the slip before I could hand him over to Chief Constable Kendrick."

Orendel seemed to consider this with increasing degrees of futility until something sparked in his eyes – a flash of hope that put Adrian on edge. "Even if that's the truth, you managed to figure out he was the culprit. You trapped him, which is more than Bow Street was able to do. So I'd still like to place my faith in your hands. At the very least, help me identify the killer. I'll pay you handsomely, Croft. Just name your price."

It was a tempting offer, not because of the money, but because he believed in Orendel's right to enact his own justice. A pity that it would be much too risky for him to accept. The amount of trust he'd have to place in the earl, a man he barely knew, was far too great. Only trouble lay in that direction.

Besides, aiding a quest for vengeance would not lead away from the criminal life he still hoped to put behind him.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't get involved with your plans for revenge."

Orendel winced. He dropped his gaze, his body slumped in the chair. "Given what happened to you, I was certain you'd understand my position."

"I do, I just—"

"He cut out her eyes," Orendel cried, his body jerking as though in protest, causing his drink to slosh over the side of his glass and onto his trousers. "Left her naked with fifty stab wounds. The blood…" He shook his head, tears streaming down his hollow cheeks.

Adrian could only stare at him as the horror of what had transpired speared him. No one should suffer such heartless brutality. Of course Orendel wanted the murderer caught. Adrian understood precisely what he was going through. When he'd seen Evie's body, he'd known he had to look her killer in the eye while damning the bastard to hell.

Orendel deserved the same chance, but there was danger in helping the man with his goal. Unless Adrian served as nothing more than a source of knowledge and allowed the earl to manage the reins.

"All I can offer is my opinion and council. Whatever else you wish to accomplish will be up to you. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly so." It wasn't what he'd come for, but the earl's expression still brightened a little. "What will your fee be?"

Acknowledging the importance of planning ahead, Adrian chose to revert to his father's tactics and ask for that which could prove more useful than money. "A favor, which I shall collect when I see fit. Is that agreeable to you? "

Orendel's hesitation was understandable. Given the reputation afforded to Adrian's father and the presumption that Adrian worked in the same sort of way, the earl probably thought it no different than selling his soul to the devil. Nevertheless, he nodded and stuck out his hand.

Adrian reached across his desk and shook it, then took another sip of his coffee before saying, "To begin with, I'd like to take a look at the crime scene."

A hasty nod as Orendel told him, "Anything to help find the bastard who did this."

"Very well. I'll be there tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock sharp."

The bedchamber Adrian stood in was like a scene from the worst kind of nightmare. Splotches of dried blood stained most of the bed, including part of the wall behind the headboard. It looked like the work of a rabid animal, not a human.

Adrian stepped forward, leaving Orendel by the door. He scanned the space, from the floors to the vanity table and dresser, to the mattress on which Lady Eleanor's body was found. She'd since been moved to the coroner's office for further examination.

Adrian crossed a large Aubusson rug and considered the bed. There was still an indentation on the pillow where her head had been. Dark stains framed the area but were most prominent on the sheets .

His throat tightened as one particular spot drew his attention. The mattress had been punctured there, the blood surrounding the indentation suggesting the blade had been driven straight through the body.

That had not only required force, but would suggest the use of a longer blade.

"Do you have a ruler and some sort of thin stick available?" He sent Orendel a glance. "A knitting needle, perhaps?"

"I'll see what I can find."

The earl departed and Adrian sucked in a deep breath. Devil take it, he could not fathom the pain of the murder having been done in the Orendel's house. There would be no escape from it unless they moved to another location.

He circumvented the bed, took a seat at the vanity table, and slid his gaze across the floor. It looked like there was blood here as well, smeared across the rug, as though it might have been stepped in. Something shimmered near the wall and Adrian slid from the stool and into a crouch. It was a piece of glass.

"Was something shattered here?" Adrian asked when Orendel brought the items he'd asked for.

"A vase." Orendel sounded as though he was doing his damndest to fill his voice with strength, only to fail as the words came out broken. "The pieces were strewn across the carpet along with the flowers in it. Must have broken in the scuffle."

"So someone's been in here to clean."

"Eleanor's lady's maid, Audrey. My wife told her to stop when she realized what she was doing. Audrey was only trying to help, but we wanted to make sure all the evidence had been collected before making any…changes."

Adrian drew another deep breath and expelled it. Having the crime scene disturbed would make his job harder since there was no telling what else the maid might have done. He studied the carpeting nearest the window. "Looks like this spot was scrubbed. It's brighter than the rest."

"I don't know why that would be."

Adrian pulled off his glove and tested the area with his fingers. It was damp to the touch. "This was done recently."

"You're welcome to speak with Audrey about it."

"That might prove useful." Adrian glanced up at the window. A theory was already starting to form in his mind. He stood and went to collect the items the earl had brought him.

Using the knitting needle first, Adrian carefully probed the cut left in the mattress and marked the distance with his fingers when it wouldn't go any deeper. He retrieved it and set it against the ruler. Four inches

Add to that the estimated depth of Lady Eleanor's torso, and the blade would have been at least nine inches long. Not exactly the sort of thing one carried around in one's boot. A nasty piece of equipment, most likely used for protection or possibly during a hunt.

A lot of men would have such a tool. What he'd learned here was unlikely to help him track the villain. He turned to Orendel, wishing he could offer the man a concrete lead. Instead he said, "I think I've seen all I need. If I may, I'd like to speak with the maid you mentioned."

Interviewing the rest of the family would perhaps prove useful as well, but given what they had all been through, he decided to give them a few days in which to recover before pressing them. He followed Orendel into the parlor and waited for the maid to arrive. It didn't take long for her to do so, despite the reluctance that showed in her hesitant stride and wary expression.

"Describe to me the scene in Lady Eleanor's bedchamber this morning," Adrian told her once she was seated. "Before your attempt to clean it."

"I've al…" She cleared her throat and sniffed, retrieved a handkerchief with which she dried her watery eyes. A deep inhalation disturbed the air with its long and uneven vibration. "I've already told the constable all I know."

"Please repeat it for Mr. Croft's reference." Orendel sounded as though his very essence had been depleted and he was struggling to carry on.

Audrey clasped her hands tightly in her lap and twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. A quick nod preceded her account. "The vase had been knocked off the dresser, the bouquet of roses it held a mess on the floor. I…I didn't know I was meant to leave it." She clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, her tearful gaze going to Orendel. "I'm so incredibly sorry. "

The earl said nothing, his attention on a family portrait above the fireplace.

"It's all right," Adrian told her. "I was wondering…it looked as though part of the carpet was recently cleaned."

"Yes." She gulped down a breath and dabbed at her eyes.

"Any particular reason besides attempting to get the blood out?" He could easily imagine it – a distraught servant, frantically scrubbing away at those stains as if that could undo some of the damage.

"I meant to clean the blood too but decided to start near the wall. There was dirt there. Mud. Most likely because of the rain."

Adrian nodded. It seemed his theory about an intruder could be correct.

"Someone must have entered through the window. It's the only explanation and I…I left it open. I am to blame for what happened. I…" Her words became sobs, so pained and wretched they made her shake.

"Thank you for telling me this. I believe it may prove useful."

"Do you honestly think what you've learned here will help?" Orendel asked as soon as the maid was gone.

"It tells us that it's unlikely the killer is someone within your household." Unless he'd been cunning enough to leave false clues. "I trust your daughter had a positive relationship with all the servants and the rest of the family."

"As far as I know. "

"Then let's proceed with the assumption that whoever did this came from elsewhere. A quick look outside might offer additional information."

They headed into the garden and toward the wall leading up to Lady Eleanor's bedchamber window. Adrian studied it, taking note of the mud coating the white cornerstone bricks.

There was no longer any doubt. This was how the killer had gained access. It hadn't been hard. He'd simply used the edges provided by the cornerstones for leverage, and had then grabbed hold of the window edging. Getting back down would likely have proven more of a challenge.

He dropped his gaze and searched the ground until he discovered a flattened area in a nearby flowerbed.

"He either jumped or fell. See those indentations there." Adrian frowned at the markings which had been firmly pressed into the sodden ground. "Looks like his hands and knees made contact. My guess is he hurt himself quite a bit from the impact."

"So we could be looking for someone who's limping?"

"It would be strange if we weren't."

Adrian scanned the rest of the ground, searching to see if there might be anything more – an item the killer had dropped, a torn piece of fabric or… He leaned forward, his breath nearly seizing in his lungs in response to the shimmering steel that gleamed between the trampled lavender .

Retrieving it, he turned to the earl whose face had gone pale. "Holy mother of God."

An appropriate response, considering Adrian held the blade that was used to slaughter his daughter. Despite last night's rain, her blood still lined parts of the edges.

Adrian frowned. "How could Bow Street have missed this?"

"It was still raining when they were here. The constable was also in a hurry to get the coroner started on his report. He said he'd return later when the weather was more conducive to an outdoor investigation. In my opinion, it proves I made the right decision, coming to you."

Adrian couldn't argue. It was the same kind of careless ineptitude he had experienced from the Bow Street Magistrate's Court when Evie's murder was being investigated. Newton would probably still be on the loose, free to kill again, had Adrian not interfered with Samantha's help.

His frown deepened as irritation shoved its way into his chest, and tried not to think of how stupidly happy she had once made him. A lot had occurred since, none of it conducive to what he was meant to accomplish now.

Inhaling the smell of wet soil, he turned the blade over between his gloved hands. "It carries John Prosser's signature. Excellent quality with what appears to be an incredibly fine bone handle. I'll check to see where a hunting cutlass such as this one can be purchased and if any of your daughter's acquaintances might have owned one."

"Thank you. I…appreciate your thoroughness."

It was no less than what he'd applied when trying to root out his sister's killer. Unfortunately, this had also taught him that even the most glaring clue might lead them nowhere. And even if it did, there was a chance twenty men or more might possess a dagger exactly like this one. Figuring out which one had motive and opportunity would be time consuming.

But that didn't make it impossible.

Returning the dagger to where he had found it, he told Orendel to show it to Kendrick when he returned.

"There's one more thing," Adrian told the earl before taking his leave. He paused for a second, aware of the impact his next words would have, before saying, "I'll need to take a look at your daughter's body."

Orendel flinched. He drew a ragged breath, his gaze flickering with a distinct lack of focus. "As I've mentioned, the…um…coroner came to collect her. I've been told he wished to examine her, to aid in Bow Street's investigation."

"Naturally. His findings may serve us as well. But I'd still like to make my own observations. If you can arrange a viewing and let me know the day and hour, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course." Orendel's voice had weakened to a frail thread. "I'll do what I can."

Adrian thanked him, repeated his condolences, and took his leave .

When he'd been in this terrible situation himself, Samantha had come to his aid and he'd been grateful. Her help and support had been undeniable, but he'd since wondered if it had been real or merely a way for her to get closer to him.

His chest tightened around his heart like a trap clamping down on its prey. He would have liked to discuss this case with her now, if only he were able to trust her. It angered him that he couldn't. She was his bloody wife, yet he had no choice but to keep up his guard around her so she would have less information to sell.

Frustrated, he arrived home with every intention of making excuses so he wouldn't have to spend additional time in her company. Only to find her absent, with Elks informing him darkly that Murry was on her tail.