Chapter 35

35

"T his just arrived." Peter Kendrick handed the note he'd received from Miss Carmichael to the chief magistrate. "Looks like the ultimatum I gave her worked."

Sir Nigel scanned the paper and nodded before returning it to Peter. "While this may suggest our odds of arresting Croft are greater than catching that blasted murderer, it's no guarantee. Our agent may have formed a closer attachment with our target, but her ability to use it against him remains to be seen."

"I understand." Peter shoved the note in his pocket.

"We need results, Kendrick." Sir Nigel's voice was as grave as their failure to solve the murders. "Eldridge has already been to see me twice more. He's questioned our worth and has threatened to advocate for our replacement."

Kendrick shivered. As a duke, any suggestion Eldridge made would be considered with the utmost seriousness. "I'll let you know as soon as I have something more."

"Please do, or you may find yourself on a clerk's salary come next week."

* * *

Relief flooded Samantha's veins the next day when she stepped back into the room she'd rented. The message she'd received from Adrian shortly after breakfast invited her to meet him and Marsdale in front of the Hyde Park entrance at two.

This wasn't for another couple of hours, but she'd rather wait them out here than at Clearview. She clenched her jaw and fisted her hands. God's teeth, she'd not been able to get away fast enough. Not after speaking with Mrs. Butler.

The woman, a buxom blonde with a coy smile slapped onto her painted face, had been shockingly frank. So much so, Samantha wondered if the woman had thought her a whore in training instead of an innocent woman who merely required some guidance.

Sitting, she unpacked the fried piece of chicken she'd bought on her way here and took a large bite. The savory flesh dissolved in her mouth and filled her stomach while street noise two floors below kept her company.

Not that she needed it. Her own thoughts on all that had happened since Harlowe gave her the mission was enough to hold her attention for decades to come. Like a well-trained dog, she'd done as he'd asked without stopping to think for herself.

But now that she stood on the precipice of a momentous decision, with Harlowe eagerly pushing her forward, questions flooded her brain.

What was his motivation in all this? Was he just following orders? Or had Kendrick threatened him too?

And why was Kendrick so hell-bent on Adrian's arrest? She pondered that for a while until something finally clicked. The blackmail information in Adrian's possession.

Was it possible it could be used to keep other disreputable people in check? Could one such person want Adrian gone?

Of course. It made perfect sense. In order to be open to extortion, one had to have acted immorally – done something ruinous. And if the person were powerful enough, they might have managed to put some pressure on Bow Street.

If that was the truth, the legal system had been corrupted and she might have been sent to destroy an innocent man.

Yes, she'd read the information Kendrick had gathered on Adrian, but what did it really prove? The newspaper articles, while topped by impressive headlines, were all based on conjecture.

There were no named witnesses with whom to double check facts.

She took another bite of her chicken, chewing the meat while mulling all this over. One carefully filed Bow Street report did mention a smuggler who'd tried confessing to murder because he'd rather hang than have Croft think he'd betrayed him. Kendrick had let the man go, only for him to turn up dead.

And then there was the report of two men who'd begged for protection. They'd claimed Adrian's father threatened to kill them. These same men were found two days later, hanging from Blackfriars bridge.

But who was to say they didn't deserve what happened to them? Or that Adrian had been involved in either of these incidents? Nothing about him suggested he was a cold-hearted killer. If anything, his every word and action gave her reason to believe he never did anything without good cause.

A belief that was further compounded later when Adrian left her alone on a bench with Marsdale while he went to purchase some treats from a vendor. The setting was public, right on Rotten Row, ensuring she and Marsdale were seen engaging in private conversation. And this, in turn, would make it more plausible for them to carry on with each other during a ball. Should the earl agree to participate.

She sent him a smile and shifted closer to where he sat, angling herself and dipping her head to convey an intimacy they did not share.

He stiffened, the tips of his fingers digging into his thighs, puckering the fabric of his trousers.

"I apologize for making you uncomfortable," she whispered. "That's not my intention, but given the nature of what I'm about to say, it would be best if no one else hears us."

The pressure in his hands eased. "Go on."

Deciding she might as well get to the point, she took a deep breath and dived in. "Croft and I need your help catching his sister's killer."

"What?" His outrage was only marginally outdone by his shock. "I can't believe he's dragged you into this. If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll just go and see what's wrong with his head."

She placed her hand on Marsdale's arm and pushed down firmly. "Please lower your voice and let me explain."

"There's no need. Whatever he's gotten you into, it's not worth the risk."

"I have to disagree with you there." Raising her chin, she met his gaze squarely. "Every innocent life is worth it. One lost is one too many."

He scoffed. "I'm beginning to see why he holds you in such high regard. You're two of a kind – a pair of crusaders."

She tilted her head and smiled. It hadn't occurred to her how similar she and Croft were. No wonder she struggled to view him as the villain. "How many murders have there been thus far?"

"I… Four?"

"There's been five. Any idea when the first one took place?"

"It was last autumn I believe."

"No. It's been more than a year. Miss Fairchild was killed in the first week of June. Yet Bow Street is no closer now to catching the man responsible for it than they were back then. Even more disturbing, the murders are increasing at an exponential rate."

His eyes widened just enough to suggest he'd missed this important detail. "Are you certain?"

She listed the dates. "If this pattern continues we run the risk of having a murder each week. Perhaps more often."

"Making it more likely for the killer to reveal himself in error."

"True. But how many women will have died by then?"

"Too many," he murmured.

Good. He was finally in agreement. "Whoever this individual is, he's clever, but the increased frequency of his attacks suggests he may have developed a taste for it – that he's eager for victims. And once the ones fitting a certain profile have all been killed, he'll surely move on to others."

Horror drew Marsdale's features tight. He stared at Samantha. "What's your plan?"

"Promise you'll hear me out before judging?" He gave a quick nod, upon which she told him what she and Adrian had in mind.

"And where would all this take place?" Marsdale asked once she'd finished.

"At Clearview House. During the ball."

He scrubbed his jaw. "This is insane. Beyond that, it goes against my firmly held belief that private citizens shouldn't be hunting down dangerous men. It's perilous and stupid. However, I understand your reasoning in this instance. You've made an excellent argument, for which I commend you. So I'll help. Provided Croft approves every part of this scheme. I'll not have him challenging me to a duel for daring to kiss his woman."

"What?" The comment was so unexpected he might as well have told her he knew of his friend's proposition and hoped she'd accept.

Heat rushed to her cheeks and her gaze instinctively shifted to Adrian's tall frame. He was approaching the bench, his dark eyes fixed upon her while he carried three paper cones.

"He's taken a liking to you," Marsdale murmured. "An understandable one, I might add. The manner in which he speaks of you leaves no question about his intentions."

Despite the pleasure this comment instilled somewhere deep in her heart, she still had to ask, "What if I'm not of like mind?"

"That would be between the two of you." Marsdale straightened as Adrian neared, his final words before he reached them so softly spoken Samantha barely heard him. "He may be rough around the edges, but he's a reasonable man - the most dependable of my acquaintance."

"What's the conclusion?" Adrian asked, offering them each a cone filled with a mixture of nuts and sweetmeats.

"Miss Carmichael can be very persuasive," Marsdale informed him. "I daresay she would work wonders in Parliament."

"So you'll help?" No hint of humor or willingness to make light of the situation.

Marsdale's expression sobered. "Yes."

Adrian couldn't have looked more somber if he'd been carved from granite. It made Samantha wonder if he'd secretly hoped the earl would refuse. His jaw was firmly set, his mouth a tight line of precision. Fierceness sharpened his gaze.

Extending his hand to Samantha, he told Marsdale boldly, "I need to speak with her for a moment."

No words of gratitude.

"Of course."

Adrian's gaze shifted, finding hers and locking with it, creating a pull that forced her hand to clasp his and her body to rise. They strolled for a number of paces, arms linked, before he spoke. "I worry our plan will go wrong and I won't be able to protect you."

No request for her to give him an answer regarding his proposition. She wasn't sure if she found that disappointing or if it gave her relief.

"You're thinking of what happens after the ball." An observation, not a question.

"We'll only have so much control. The rest will be up to…" He stopped, turned to face her, his posture stiff. "Were you serious when you said you never go anywhere without a pistol?"

Among other things. "Yes."

His expression remained the same: hard and inscrutable. "Show me."

"Hold this." She handed him her cone, then opened her reticule so he could look inside. A grunt conveyed his opinion. "I realize it's small but–"

"Are you an accurate shot?"

"Certainly." Better than anyone else she'd seen, though it wasn't her weapon of choice. She much preferred the blades hidden in her sleeves and tucked firmly against her thighs, or the long razor-sharp pins concealed in her hair. But she didn't mention any of that.

He handed the cone back to her and reached inside his jacket pocket. "I want you to have this as well."

She stared at the silver dagger he offered, her fingers reaching and curling until they gripped the smooth mother-of-pearl handle. The blade had been etched with a swirling design and polished to a high sheen, reflecting the leaves from the tree behind her. It sparkled as she turned it against the light.

Stunning and lethal. Easily the most wonderful gift she'd ever received.

She swallowed against a sudden surge of emotion, shutting it down and locking it back into place before meeting his gaze. "Thank you."

"Stop by Reed's tomorrow and I'll instruct you on how to use it."

His enigmatic expression couldn't quite hide the unease in his eyes. So she nodded, even though she was sure her skill was superior to his.

And tried not to think overly much about just how important his concern for her was.

* * *

"Have you considered courting her?"

Adrian watched Samantha's retreating figure, the confidence in her stride as she walked toward the park entrance after parting ways with him and Edward.

"No." He glanced at his friend. "I propositioned her instead."

Edward's mouth fell open. "Tell me you're not serious."

"She's not the sort of woman one might consider—"

"Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

Adrian stiffened. He clamped his teeth together. "Insult me again and I'll break your nose."

"Don't be an arse." Edward matched his scowl. "Miss Carmichael may not have respectable parentage, but she is prepared to risk her reputation and her life to help you catch your sister's killer."

"There's no need to make it sound like she's doing me a personal favor when she has her own reasons for wanting the killer caught."

"Fine. Let's suppose she does. It still doesn't change the fact that she's got more courage than most men I know. Add to that her determination, intellect, and need for justice, all of which set her apart, and I think you'll struggle to find a woman more suited to be your wife. But that's just my opinion. For whatever it's worth."

This was one of the reasons Adrian valued his friendship. Because Edward always found a way to cut through the clutter and get to the heart of the matter. He told him what he needed to hear, offered up a different perspective, and opened his eyes to the truth.

His heart gave an unsteady thud. Taking Samantha as his lover was something he could adjust to. Marrying her, however…

"Aside from the fact that I'd likely make a horrific husband, I'm not prepared for that sort of commitment with anyone."

"No one is." Edward snorted. "Take it from someone who's forced to live with regret. Don't squander your chance when you've found the right woman."

The comment produced a tremor deep in Adrian's gut. Edward's point was solid, delivered with the effect of an ice-bucket dumped right over his head. He stared straight ahead, his focus exclusively on his own thoughts as he turned his gaze inward.

His father had recommended he set his mind on finding a wife. Lord knew he needed an heir. If anything were to happen to him, as it very well might, everything built by generations before him would be lost – turned over to the Crown.

Air clawed its way down his throat and into his lungs with the effort it suddenly took to breathe. He couldn't allow that. A wife would be needed – a capable woman strong enough to stand by his side, not some gently bred creature who flinched at the sound of thunder.

He wanted a partner, a friend he could turn to but also a lover he longed to come home to. He wanted a wife who'd accept him because she'd have the good sense to let him explain who he was and why he did what he did. And the only person who came even close to fulfilling these standards, was Samantha.

Edward had seen what he'd been too blind to. She was perfect. Provided she'd have him.

He blinked on that thought and told his friend. "Let's see how this plan of ours goes before we start making wedding arrangements."