Chapter 31

31

H e sighed with contentment as he settled into his favorite chair. Keeping a low profile appeared to be paying off. Just a little while longer until he'd be free to live the life he wanted.

It was rather astounding really, how easy it had all been. Killing Lady Eleanor, while messy, had not been much of a challenge. Though she'd attempted to fight him, his superior strength had overpowered her quickly. After which, he'd simply had to relax into the role he'd prepared for himself beforehand.

Planting a dark brown hair beneath one of her nails had been done to lead the authorities further astray. Along with the limp he'd affected, a spur of the moment decision inspired by slipping and falling, though the bushes he'd landed in had kept him from any real harm.

His only mistake had been the loss of his blade, which he'd tossed to the ground before climbing down from Lady Eleanor's window. It had disappeared into the darkness and when he'd realized it would not be easily found, he'd abandoned his search, keen to be gone before anyone saw him.

Except he had been seen. By that bloody footman who could have so easily ruined it all. Had he not been so tempted by greed. A stroke of luck really, getting blackmailed by him.

And to think it would soon be over. A smug grin pulled at his lips. Everything was going according to plan. He'd sail for India in a couple of days and assume a new identity, leaving Bow Street and Mr. Croft behind with their bumbling investigation.

This had never been his intention, but he liked to think of himself as the flexible sort. One had to be able to pivot when the wind changed direction.

And so he had, without even blinking.

Samantha returned home with pure determination burning in her veins, only to freeze when Elks informed her of Kendrick's presence in the parlor. She sent the doorway a quick glance and immediately spied the chief constable through it.

Unable to convey a message without the blasted man overhearing, she pulled off her gloves and handed them to the butler, then took a deep breath and went to greet her unwelcome guest. As much as she hated delaying her conversation with Murry and the wait this would lead to for Adrian, there was no way around it.

She entered the room, intent on burying every hint of apprehension she felt over Kendrick being here. If he sensed her concern it would only bolster the notion that she might have something to hide – that she knew she'd withheld information from him.

Feigning ignorance was the only option. That and denial.

"I must say, I'm surprised to find you here." She sent a quick glance over her shoulder, then nudged the door shut as though aiming to keep their conversation private. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, "I've told you not to come to the house. Do you have any idea what sort of risk you're placing me in?"

"So you've said, which is why it ought to appease you a little to know that it's not you I'm here to see but rather your husband."

Samantha allowed that information to sink in while giving Kendrick her back as she strolled to the sideboard and picked up a glass. "A drink, Chief Constable?"

"Thank you, but I don't imbibe while on duty."

She shouldn't drink either when she'd likely need all her wits about her. So she spun toward Kendrick, arms crossed, and caught him in the process of lighting a cheroot. Her nose twitched in response to the smoke he exhaled shortly after.

"He's not home," she said.

"That's quite all right." Kendrick lowered himself to an armchair. An overt sign of disrespect toward her since she remained standing. "I have time to wait."

She glared at him, then offered the only reasonable explanation she could think of as to why Adrian wouldn't be home any time soon, "He's gone out of town and isn't due back for several days."

"Oh?"

"Maybe I can help you instead," Samantha offered, deciding not to elaborate further. She was telling Kendrick enough lies as it was and knew full well that adding more would only make it harder for her to keep track of each one.

"I'm hoping to find out if he has discovered additional information pertaining to Lady Eleanor's death." Studious eyes searched her face.

"Are you not making headway on your own?" There was a strange sort of satisfaction in knowing the constable might be floundering. She almost chuckled.

"It's in everyone's interest that we find the killer." Another drag from the cheroot caused the end of it to glow bright orange. A puff of smoke curled through the air as Kendrick exhaled. "There's a chance we'll do so sooner if we work together."

"I was under the impression you already claim to have your man." Samantha grabbed an ashtray and placed it on the table next to Kendrick. She gave him a pointed look. "Don't make a mess."

He rolled his lips, drawing out the moment, before slowly setting his cheroot aside in the small crystal dish. "I'm not too proud to admit when I'm wrong. Turns out Hutchins has a solid alibi for the night in question. Thanks to your husband, I was able to verify that."

"And now you're hoping he'll give you additional tips?" It would be laughable if it weren't so sad. "You want to ride his coattails and take the credit? Is that it?"

Kendrick's eyes hardened to flint, his posture, so relaxed before, now utterly rigid. "I don't give a damn about who gets the credit. My only concern is ensuring the safety of the people inhabiting London. That's hard to do with a murderer on the loose."

"And in order to do so you would collaborate with a man you'd like to see behind bars or, as you've suggested, hanging from a noose?" Sliding her irritation beneath a fa?ade of curious interest, she tilted her head. "To be honest, I'm surprised you've not yet issued a warrant for his arrest after all the information I gave you."

"There's not enough there to ensure his permanent imprisonment or a trip to the gallows, which is why I was hoping to meet with him now." He set the cheroot to his lips and took a long drag before snuffing it out in the ashtray. The smoke was exhaled toward the ceiling. "Lord knows it would have been nice to ask him about his findings before it's too late, but maybe you know more about the case than I realize. Maybe something you're able to share?"

Only some of Kendrick's words registered with Samantha. She stared at him. "What do you mean, before it's too late? "

He blinked as though the question surprised him. "My apologies. I've been told I have a bad habit of speaking out of context. I was referring to the order issued this morning when I informed my superiors that I don't have the proof required to take down Croft. As I warned you would be the case if you failed, his removal will now be ensured by other means."

"But—"

"You mustn't worry. I made sure to praise your efforts in my report. Truth is, the mission was bound to fail from the very beginning. Assumptions were made, besides which you were faced with too many demands. I'm sorry for that. Truly."

Wary of showing her shock and worse, her immediate fear, Samantha kept herself very still while Kendrick's words dug their way into her brain. She'd known it would probably come to this, yet she wasn't prepared. Not in the way she'd believed she would be.

"This can't be legal," she muttered. Her gaze caught Kendrick's. "I want to know who's behind this."

He gave her a sharp look. "As I'm sure you realize, I'm not at liberty to disclose such details."

She felt like she was floundering as she stood there, staring into his light blue eyes. Think . She'd have to find another angle.

"Have you mentioned the important work Croft is carrying out?" She dug her nails into her thighs and tried to focus on that pain instead of the one taking hold of her heart. "If you let him finish, there's a chance he'll lead you straight to the killer. "

Time . It was all she could bargain for now.

"And how many more crimes will he carry out before that happens?" Kendrick stood. He gave his jacket sleeves a quick tug. "My superiors have assessed the risk as being too great. I'm afraid it's out of my hands now, Mrs. Croft."

There was no telling whether the man meant the words as a warning or as a threat, so Samantha chose to take them as both. Her fingers twitched, eager to wrap around Kendrick's neck. She resisted the urge, her breath frozen halfway up her throat as she watched him take his leave.

And then he was finally gone, the sound of the front door closing behind him sending a rush of anxiety through her. Adrian . She had to warn him, maybe urge him to leave the City before an assassin hunted him down.

"Murry?" Not caring what anyone thought, she hollered the servant's name as she sprinted upstairs, two steps at a time.

"I believe he's in the kitchen." Elks halted her progress, his voice calm though everything else about him appeared to be on alert. "Is everything all right?"

She shook her head. "Far from it. If you could please ask Murry to meet me upstairs. I need to speak with him right away."

"Of course."

The butler went to fulfill his duty and Samantha turned, coming face to face with Isak, whose eyes were wide with concern. "What's going on? "

Samantha considered lying, but since the change in circumstance would affect the boy too, she decided she ought to be honest with him. "The authorities are out to get my husband."

"But—"

"I don't have time to explain, but you need to get out of the house. Go to Murdoch. Tell him what's happened and keep a low profile. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course."

"Good boy." Samatha pulled him into a quick hug then marched to the bedchamber she and her husband shared. It didn't take long for her to locate the traveling bags she kept at the ready, both of them already fully packed in case of emergency.

A knock at the door came less than five minutes later. Despite being in the process of changing her clothes, Samantha granted Murry entrance.

He blanched when he saw her undressing and instantly turned to leave. "Sorry. I'll return when—"

"I told you to come in because there's no time to lose." A seam tore in her haste to remove her gown, but she finally managed to rid herself of the garment. "We must be practical now, not hindered by etiquette or sensibilities. Croft's life is in danger."

"How so?"

Good. Murry was taking a soldier's approach, his concern with her state of deshabille already buried beneath a fierce scowl.

"An order has been issued for Croft's termination." Samantha flung a shirt over her head, then began putting on a pair of breeches. "An assassin will hunt him down, make it look like a mugging, I'm sure."

"Kendrick told you this?"

"Not specifically. Why?" She glanced at him while pushing her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.

"Because I find it odd that he would reveal a plan to attack Croft unless it's some kind of trap."

A quick pause to think and assess. Kendrick hadn't said when or how the plan would unfold. All she knew was how she'd do it if she were tasked with such a mission. Plus, Kendrick's wording had certainly hinted at using extreme methods.

Whether the constable let all that slip on purpose or not, however, she couldn't be sure. He'd never struck her as clever enough to deceive anyone, but that might be his strength. It might be foolish to underestimate him.

"We'll assume Kendrick means for me to issue a warning – that he knows I'm no longer on his side." She dropped to a crouch and pulled a wooden box out from under the bed. Inside were a new pair of daggers she'd purchased and an additional pistol. She grabbed the lot and proceeded to arm herself for battle. "Put the household on alert, and tell Emma to come here at once."

The maid in question arrived as Samantha finished putting on her boots. Her firm no-nonsense expression conveyed that she was ready to do as her mistress asked. No need for elaborate explanations or even coercion. As with the rest of the servants, Adrian had chosen her well .

Samantha gestured toward the dress she'd removed. "Please put that on."

If Kendrick had indeed laid a trap, he'd soon be led astray by the wrong woman.

A short walk took Peter Kendrick back to the carriage that waited for him around the corner from Number 5 Portman Square. A discreet hansom cab that wouldn't attract much attention, if any.

He climbed in and addressed the man who sat on the opposite bench. "It's done. Only time will tell if she takes the bait."

"Good work." Lord Carver glanced out the window. "My agents are in position. I'll head to the carriage parked near the entrance to the mews, just in case Mrs. Croft leaves through the back entrance. If she's looking to reach her husband quickly, chances are she'll be needing a horse."

"Especially if what she told me is true, about Mr. Croft having gone to Deerhaven Park."

"Any chance she might have been lying?"

Peter thought back on his conversation with Mrs. Croft. "I've no idea. She gave nothing away."

"Best err on the side of caution then. I'll tell my top man to send a couple of agents that way. Make sure there's no chance of escape." Lord Carver tapped the brim of his hat, opened the door, and leapt to the ground. Turning, one hand braced on the doorframe, he said to Peter, "If all goes well, we'll reconvene at The Old Bell. Drinks will be on me."

The door slammed shut. Peter watched Lord Carver's retreating stride for a brief second, then slid his gaze toward the black front door at Number 5, Portman Square.

No more than fifteen minutes passed before an elegant carriage pulled up. The front door opened and Mrs. Croft made her appearance, her chin dipping as though she were watching for obstacles in her path. Peter tracked her progress across the pavement and frowned. The wide-brimmed bonnet she wore concealed most of her face. Only the tip of her nose was visible from this angle.

A pity since he'd have liked to see her expression. It had been carefully schooled while they spoke. He was curious to know if it might have slipped since then.

Something inside him shifted – a tightening of his gut brought on by the confirmation that she was indeed a traitor. He'd suspected as much for a while now, but to have it confirmed…

He ought to be thrilled, yet he found no pleasure in being correct on this score. Not when she was a product of Harlowe's making. Not when Peter himself had placed her on the path of her own destruction. Neither of them should have used her so. And now she would pay for their sins with her life.

A shiver raced down his spine. He wasn't comfortable with Lord Carver's plan. Murder wasn't right, no matter how one rationalized it .

Cursing his superiors and the moral dilemma they'd placed him in, he wondered if he'd sleep well at night knowing he'd been a party to this. Probably not. Without the proof he'd been hunting, he'd never be certain if Croft deserved to be killed.

As for his wife…he watched her open the carriage door. Guilt sank its claws deep as she placed one foot on the step. But the moment was broken by observation, by a flaw that didn't make sense, a shoe that didn't quite match her attire.

Peter's heart kicked up its pace, his eyes taking note and assessing every last detail until none was left. He sucked in a breath, still staring at Mrs. Croft's carriage as it pulled into the street. The hackney in which he was seated, driven by one of Lord Carver's agents, started forward with every intention of giving chase.

Moving quickly, Peter opened the door on the far side and hopped out. The driver, not having noticed, continued onward while Peter hailed a proper hackney.

Positioned where the horses hid him from view, he spoke to the driver. "There's a chance a young woman is going to exit that house over there. If she does, we'll follow discreetly. Until then, we wait."

"Not exactly the sort of thing I'm paid for," the driver complained. "Sounds suspicious."

"Maybe this will appease you." Peter handed the man his card. "If you're lucky, you'll help apprehend a traitor."

Because the woman he'd watched get into the Croft carriage shortly before was not the woman she'd given herself out to be. Which convinced him it was just a matter of time before the real Mrs. Croft put in an appearance.

And when she did, she'd prove her treacherous nature once and for all by leading him straight to her villainous husband.