Chapter 11

11

A drian had barely finished dressing when a knock at his bedchamber door preceded his butler's arrival.

"I apologize for disturbing you," Elks said while Murry ran a brush down the navy-blue superfine jacket Adrian wore, "but there's a Chief Constable Kendrick to see you on what he insists is a matter of utmost urgency."

Adrian frowned and tried to figure out what had brought Kendrick to his home so early in the day. "Thank you, Elks. Please show him to the parlor."

"Do you suppose one of your many associates might have ignored the order to stop using the benefit of the Croft name for business?" Murry asked once Elks was gone.

"Possibly." One thing was for damn sure. If such a thing were occurring, he'd find the culprit and make him pay for the trouble.

Unhappy with starting the day in a state of annoyance, Adrian downed the last of the coffee Murry had brought him earlier, and went to discover why Kendrick had come. He wanted the visit over and done with quickly so he could address other matters. The late-night call he'd paid his mistress had caused a delayed start to his day.

A clipped stride brought him to the parlor where he found the constable waiting. The man's slim frame was slightly hunched as he studied the porcelain pieces displayed behind the glazed doors of the bureau bookcase.

"Mr. Kendrick."

Adrian's voice caused his visitor to straighten and turn, bringing his oval face into view. His dark blonde hair had been carefully combed to one side and greased with pomade, offering him a neat and professional look.

Blue eyes met Adrian's from beneath a pair of tightly knit eyebrows. The gravity of his gaze was echoed in the straight line of his thin-lipped mouth. A hint of stubble upon his jaw suggested he'd not taken time to shave.

"Mr. Croft. I'm sorry to call on you so early in the day." Kendrick spoke curtly, his posture stiff, as though he was just as unhappy to be here as Adrian was to have his morning disturbed by his presence.

"I trust you wouldn't have done so unless there was cause." Adrian gestured toward the seating arrangement. "Shall we sit?"

"Thank you, but I…" He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "I'm afraid there's no easy way to say this."

"Say what?" Adrian asked when the man said nothing further.

Seconds passed. A muscle worked at the edge of Kendrick's jaw as he seemed to weigh his next words. A sliver of unease spread across Adrian's shoulders. He flexed his fingers and fought the urge to reach for the miniature in his pocket.

A raven landed upon the outdoor windowsill and proceeded to tap the glass with its beak. The constable sent a swift glance toward it and finally spoke, his voice grave as he said, "I regret to inform you that your sister, Miss Evelyn Croft, was discovered in St. Bartholomew's graveyard a couple of hours ago. It seems she's been murdered."

Adrian's first response was a startled laugh as the tension he'd experienced these past few minutes was released. "Forgive me, but I fear you've made yet another mistake. Honestly, as if your inability to catch the man behind those three murders last year isn't enough, you now misidentify your victim."

"There's no mistake," Kendrick said, his voice even. "I've seen your sister enough times in public to recognize her."

A prickly sensation crawled over Adrian's skin as apprehension returned. He held Kendrick's gaze even as his gut tightened. "You're wrong. We dined here together last night and shared a drink afterward before she retired to bed where I am confident she remains."

"It might be prudent to check."

Adrian flattened his mouth and stalked from the room with every intention of doing precisely that. Damn Kendrick for coming here before eight and disrupting what ought to have been a perfectly pleasant morning with a false claim. He'd looked forward to giving his ledgers a quick review before joining Evie for breakfast. His intention was to pack after that so they could depart for Deerhaven Manor after Miss Carmichael came to call.

He took the stairs two steps at a time, marched to Evie's bedroom, and gave the door a soft knock. When no response came, he knocked again. Harder this time.

Silence.

Disquiet rippled through him. Ice curled over his shoulders. "Evie?"

The lack of response made him reach for the handle. He pushed the door open and looked to her bed. It was neatly made, as though it hadn't been slept in.

A tremor raked the length of his spine as incomprehension transformed into fear. She wasn't here, which meant…

He dared not think it.

Kendrick could not be right.

Evie would soon appear.

Perhaps she'd gone to grab a book before bed and had fallen asleep in the library. The desperate thud of his heart prayed this was the case.

"Elks!" Adrian ran from her bedchamber, nearly tumbling down the stairs in his haste to find her. Maybe her maid knew something he didn't. "Emma!"

"What is it?" Elks asked, appearing behind him in the library doorway while he scanned the room. "What's happened?"

"Where's Evelyn?" Adrian asked, his gaze darting from corner to corner.

"Is she not in her bedchamber?"

Adrian shook his head. "I already looked."

"Perhaps the music room then."

Deep down, Adrian already knew he'd not find her there either. An ache tightened his throat. Breathing became a chore as his body grew heavy. Somehow, he managed to drag his weight forward, toward Emma, who'd just come to join them. "When did you see my sister last?"

"Yesterday evening, when I helped her prepare for dinner."

It felt as though he were sinking beneath the weight of this revelation and what it implied. "You did not help her ready for bed?"

"She never called upon me to do so."

Every inhalation he took stung his lungs. His vision blurred. This could not be. He refused to believe it. But as he pushed his way past his servants, reality started to grip him. Evie had gone out last night. Kendrick had come to inform him that she had been murdered.

When Adrian reached the garden gate moments later, the unlocked latch confirmed it. A sob of pure anguish squeezed at his chest. His sweet sister was dead, her lifeless body discarded somewhere while he'd rutted with a meaningless woman. He ought to be flayed alive for letting that happen. God help him, he should have died in her stead.

"I want to see her," he told Kendrick stiffly, his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn't even recall coming back inside from the garden. Wracked by indescribable pain and anger, he stared at the man who'd brought him the tragic news.

Kendrick inclined his head. "I'm headed to the coroner's office myself. You're welcome to join me."

Adrian almost agreed, only to realize the last thing he wanted right now was to share a carriage with Kendrick. "I'll meet you there."

"As you wish." Kendrick tipped his hat and departed, leaving Adrian with the awful sensation of having the walls closing in around him. He felt as though he'd been trapped in a tiny box from which there would never be any escape.

"Sir," Murry said, his voice sounding as though it came from beyond a vast distance. "Would you care for a brandy?"

Dismayed by the question, Adrian turned to his valet. "What good will that do?"

"I…" Murry shook his head, his expression pained. "I'm so very sorry."

Adrian stared straight through him. "Just call for the carriage."

Murry did as requested then accompanied him on the twenty-minute ride to St. George's Hospital at Hyde Park corner. Rain would have been an appropriate setting for their somber journey. Instead, the sun shone from a clear blue sky with an almost disgusting degree of vibrancy.

Preoccupied by grief and guilt, Adrian held his tongue. There was so much to say – so many thoughts demanding attention – and yet he could not find the words. So, he listened to the dull tread of the horse's hooves and the occasional moan of the axle when they turned a corner.

Yet all he truly heard was Evie's voice, so young and bright and full of joy.

It was unfathomable to him that he'd never hear that sound again. His heart shrank as pain tightened its hold, made worse by the realization of what was to come. In time, the memory of his sister would fade until all he'd be left with was some sort of vague recollection, more akin to her portrait than to the flesh and blood woman she'd actually been.

This was how it had been with his mother, the miniature of her likeness reminding him daily of what she had looked like.

"Do you wish for me to join you or would you prefer to go in alone?" Murry asked when they reached their destination.

Adrian blinked. He'd almost forgotten his valet was there. Turning to him, he gave his instruction. "Stay with the carriage."

The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was the awkwardness of his valet seeing him fall apart. So he took a deep breath, alit with a heavy tread, and went to join Kendrick, who waited for him by the entrance.

"You should prepare yourself," Kendrick warned once they'd met with Doctor Fellowes. The coroner led them through a long hallway to the echoing sound of their shoes clicking hard against the stone floor. "She was stabbed in the throat."

Adrian clenched his fists. It was hard to believe he'd not wondered about the cause of death until now. Evie had simply been dead. But the truth of it was, she'd been killed. Someone had done this to her, and now he knew how.

The hollowness behind his ribs expanded as he followed Doctor Fellowes into a cool stone chamber where three tables stood side by side. Two of them were occupied by corpses, their bodies outlined beneath the white sheets that covered them from head to toe.

Doctor Fellowes approached the nearest table and reached for the edge of the sheet, then paused. He glanced at Adrian. "Ready?"

Was anyone ever ready to see the remains of someone they loved? Adrian doubted it, but nodded all the same. He had to ensure that the victim was Evie. Moreover, he hoped that seeing her would offer some sort of clue as to who might have done this.

The sheet was pulled back, revealing a mass of dark brown locks that matched his own. Her forehead came into view next, then her beautifully arched eyebrows, a pair of eyelids – closed as if in slumber – with black lashes resting against her pale cheeks.

Adrian had no need to see her nose or mouth for every possible hope a mistake had been made to be destroyed. There was no longer any doubt.

He took a deep breath and almost choked when he inhaled the acrid air. The smell of death was all too familiar. He'd encountered it hundreds of times before, thanks to the family business. What he'd never planned on was of one day associating it with his sister.

Swallowing against the rising discomfort that threatened to make him retch, he gritted his teeth and asked Doctor Fellowes to pull the sheet lower. The doctor sent Kendrick a questioning glance before doing as Adrian asked.

A ghastly wound, stained by dried blood, came into view. The throat had not just been stabbed, it had been cleaved open, leaving behind a gaping display of raw flesh and bone fragments.

Drawing upon every strength he possessed, Adrian detached himself from all his emotions. It was vital he be objective if he was to gain understanding and see justice served on Evie's behalf.

He considered the faint signs of bruising near the side of her neck and the lacerations of the wound itself. "Inflicting this sort of damage would have required proximity."

This was not the sort of wound one received if one were fleeing one's attacker. Whoever had done this had likely held her in place. Pinned down, perhaps?

"I agree," Kendrick said. "It would appear that your sister knew her attacker and had no reason to fear him. Any idea why she might have gone to the churchyard in the first place?"

"No." He'd told her to be careful and not to go anywhere unescorted, so why had she done it? Adrian could think of no reasonable explanation. Unless she'd embarked on a secret liaison with someone she feared he wouldn't approve of.

"Miss Fairchild, Lady Camille, and Miss Irvine were killed the same way, as though they'd walked straight into the arms of their killer."

Adrian turned to Kendrick. "You think my sister was killed by the same individual?"

"I'm certain of it," Kendrick muttered, his sharp gaze holding Adrian's. "Not only because of the method applied, but because of the note that was pinned to Miss Croft's bodice."

Fresh anger spread through Adrian's body. He glanced at the piece of paper Doctor Fellowes produced, doing his best not to snatch it from him and tear it to pieces.

"The bastard murdered her by mistake." Because of a lie some foolish columnist had printed in the paper.

"The wound appears to have been inflicted by a short blade, sharp at the tip and blunter along the edges," Doctor Fellowes reported. "The victim shows no sign of struggle – no damage to her nails, no fibers, hair, or dirt underneath them. It was as though she were caught unawares and didn't see the blade coming."

"You've suggested the previous victims were killed from behind," Kendrick said. "Are you saying that's not the case here?"

"Exactly." Doctor Fellowes used a scalpel to indicate the direction in which Evie's throat had been stabbed. "The angle of this wound shows that this particular murder was carried out while she faced her attacker."

And yet, she hadn't struggled, which could only mean that she had been killed by someone she trusted. Someone who'd taken advantage of that and used it against her.

Adrian stared at the harshness with which the flesh had been torn. "Were the other wounds similar in nature?"

"If you're asking if they looked just as brutal," Kendrick said, "then the answer is yes."

In other words, they were looking for someone who'd hated these women, or at the very least what they each represented to his sick mind. Adrian wasn't yet sure how he'd find him. All he knew was that he would commit himself to doing so from this moment forward.

This awareness brought an odd sense of calm to his otherwise crippled existence. He thanked Kendrick and Doctor Fellowes, then placed a final kiss to Evie's brow before walking away, his stride clipped and precise as he returned to the carriage.

He gave instructions to the driver before climbing in and resuming his seat on the bench opposite Murry. The carriage lurched into motion, setting a homeward course for Number 5 Portman Square.

Speaking with steely resolve, he said, "I'm calling a meeting as soon as we reach the house."

"You're assuming the role your father intended for you after all?"

"The resources offered to me if I head down that path will be beneficial." Adrian met Murry's gaze without blinking. "May God have mercy on whoever did this, for I can assure you, I shall not."