Chapter Sixteen

Since there hadn't been guests in the billiards room, Gabriel had drifted into the library. One could tell much about someone by the books he kept, and in the case of Lord Mickelson as the owner of the townhouse turned spa, the answer was not much indeed.

He rather suspected the peer had purchased random books from scattered sources merely to fill the shelves in the room, instead of curating a collection that made sense. The volumes in the room were merely showpieces, much like bric-a-brac, with no intellectual value. But as he perused the shelves, his mind kept going back over the aspects of the case that didn't cohesively fit together, much like the book collection, until something Cassandra had said to him fairly screamed at him to take another look.

They had been speaking about Mary and how he had encouraged her to accept Mary as her mother .

"I like Mary. She is interesting and smells good." Her brow had furrowed as she'd frowned. He remembered in that moment hoping she would learn to smile more, or at least feel free enough to enjoy her childhood now that she could. "But mothers leave, Inspector."

"Pardon?" At the time, he'd not understood.

A tiny huff had come from her as if she couldn't believe he was that dense. "Mothers decide they don't want their children and leave them in dark and frightening places. I don't want Mary to be my mother."

"I can understand that." It was the first time the girl had spoken of something hearkening back to her past. "Mary is not like that, though. She is steadfast and true. Never will she leave you. Not ever."

Mothers leave.

He clutched a hand to his chest as everything slipped into place like pieces of a puzzle. Dear God. It wasn't the fact the dead women were prostitutes. Neither was it the fact they had been pregnant out of wedlock. That wasn't the connection. The key was that each of the women had given the babes away that had incensed the murderer.

Who had killed women with brown hair.

Who was obsessed with wigs and had tried to cajole Mary into wearing one that day. Because she reminded him of his mother, and he favored women with brunette coloring. He'd practically bragged about it that day at the theater when they'd gone there to question the actor, Mr. Taylor. Beyond that, he'd had that damned eye tic and had been sweating.

Bloody, bloody hell. I should have paid more attention.

"I know who the killer is," he said to no one except himself. It was the damned wig master, and if he'd guessed correctly, he had Mary in his sights. "We need to leave here immediately." For the killer had already been informed they were headed to Brighton.

Gabriel bolted from the room and tore through the corridors. As he ran, he nearly crashed into a female spa worker who continued to ring a handbell as she called for everyone to evacuate the spa.

"I beg your pardon. What is happening? Why do we need to evacuate?" Cold foreboding went through his gut, for the answer couldn't be good.

She looked at him with a smile, but there was also a trace of fear in her eyes. "One of the guests in an exhibition room knocked over a candelabra, which then caught draperies and bedding on fire. The couple hadn't been aware as they were otherwise engaged, but afterward, the room was nearly engulfed by the time they informed us." She shrugged. "The fire raged too quickly; the staff could do nothing about it."

Damnation.

"Did someone call for the fire brigade? "

"I would have no idea, Mr. Bright."

Of course not, because they weren't exactly organized here, nor were they equipped for a crisis. "I need to find my wife. Do you know where she is?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bright, but Lord Mickelson is asking that all guests move immediately outside. You will need to come with me."

When she reached out for him, he sprang away. "I refuse to go anywhere without Mary." Fear twisted down his spine. "Once I locate her, we will evacuate."

Since she'd said she would wait for him in the public gardens, he ran downstairs to the lower level first. Though there were a few guests passing through on their way toward the path that led to the beach, his wife was not among them. Cursing beneath his breath, Gabriel sprinted through the corridors until he reached their suite.

The trunk and the two bags they'd brought waited near the door, but there was no sign of Mary. Nearly frantic and with panic pulsing through his veins, he scanned the room. When his gaze fell onto her reticule that rested on a small table, he rushed over to it.

Then he read the damning note left beside it, and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. Dear God, the killer is here, and he's requested a meeting with Mary. Yet Gabriel had already been in the gardens. Neither of them had been there. So where were they?

Once more, he rushed into the corridor. A few guests in varying degrees of undress were running about in an effort to find the exits, but he went against the stream of foot traffic in favor of gaining the second level. He had just been in the library there, but he popped in and out of all the rooms anyway.

"Mary?"

There was no answer from his wife.

At the end of that corridor near the stairs, he pulled aside a maid. "I am looking for my wife. Have you seen Mrs. Bright recently?" If he sounded or looked half-crazed, that was because he was desperate to find her. Already smoke was filling the corridors. The acrid scent of it was heavy in the air.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Bright." Fear reflected on the young woman's face. "I thought I saw someone with her description go into one of the public exhibition rooms on the third floor with a man I didn't recognize, but she had dark hair and was unconscious. The man was carrying her."

Dear God.

His chest tightened. "A man? Do you know who he was?"

She shrugged and edged away, clearly wanting to evacuate the building. "He could have been a newly arrived guest. I'm sorry, Mr. Bright."

"Don't worry about it. Get to safety." More frantic now than he'd been minutes before, Gabriel tore up the stairs. A group of guests came down at the same time, and he was obliged to fight through them as he climbed to the third floor.

A glance along the corridor confirmed one of his worst fears. The fire raged in the far section of the third floor and was steadily burning everything in its path. Every beat of his heart demanded that he locate his wife, for he'd meant what he'd said: he wouldn't leave this place without her.

With methodical steadiness, Gabrial burst into every single room along the corridors. Most were unoccupied. One room held a couple rushing about trying to pack their belongings. He ordered them to leave their things behind and evacuate. Lives were more important, then he continued his quest to find Mary. On the opposite side of the house on that level, in one of the room was a female brunette fitted into the ceiling restraints with a gag tied about her head and between her lips. That damned Mr. Dempsey from the theater circled her with a knife in his hand. A sick feeling began in Gabriel's gut, for he suspected the woman with brown hair was Mary, but he couldn't be certain at this distance.

Yet he recognized that form anywhere.

The damned man hadn't bothered to lock the door, so Gabriel pressed the latch, and seconds later crashed into the room. "What the devil is going on in here?" Smoke filled the air, and his eyes watered because of it.

Mr. Dempsey jumped in surprise. Hate and demented fervor glittered in his eyes. "This doesn't concern you, Inspector."

"Like hell it doesn't." He peered more closely at the woman, and his chest tightened with shock. Knife slashes decorated her arms and torso. Her clothes were stained with faint blood, which meant she hadn't been stabbed too deeply, and he recognized the dress as the one his wife had been wearing earlier. As she turned about, dangling on her toes, recognition dawned in the blue pools of her eyes, and she tugged at her restraints.

"Gabriel!" Though the word was muffled, there was no mistaking her voice, her features. She grew quite animated in her quest to be free or to reach him, but both were useless endeavors, for Mr. Dempsey and his knife stood between them.

"Mary!" With narrowed eyes and hot rage rising in his chest, Gabriel faced the madman. "Let her go."

"I can't do that, Inspector. She must die." Then the wig master sprang at him with the knife leading the way .

"Damn it all to hell." Forced to engage the man when they all should be evacuating the burning spa, Gabriel dodged the slashes of the knife the best he could. While Mary dangled from the ceiling and cried out warnings through the gag, he battled Mr. Dempsey for control of the blade.

"They all must die, Inspector. There is no other choice."

Not having the faintest clue what the man referred to, he could fill in the missing bits enough to realize what drove him. "Your days of killing women are over, Dempsey. I'll see you in Newgate before the day is out."

If they all managed to survive the damned fire.

"No!" Mr. Dempsey slashed with the knife, catching Gabriel on the side of the neck. Thankfully, only the tip of the blade broke the skin, but it hurt all the same. "Women here are prostitutes, whores, those who work in the sex trade, who enjoy intercourse. They are unclean and from the devil." The wig master panted, circling around him and slashing out as the mood struck. "When they become with child, they favor sex more than being a mother, which make them abandon their children."

"That is not for you to decide or judge." Gabriel didn't care about the whys or wherefores; time was of the essence, and they all needed to leave the townhouse. " And if you think you are an emissary of God, then let him hand down a final fate, but this damned place is on fire. We must go."

The other man shook his head. "Not until my mission is completed."

"With that flawed logic, your mission will never be complete if you wish to kill every woman who has ever given up a child regardless of the reason." He glared at the wig master. "Killing my wife will gain you nothing, and as a former Bow Street inspector, I can't let you continue on this path. There is no future for you, Mr. Dempsey. You are a murderer and will pay for your crimes."

The madness in the other man's eyes grew. "I must keep going, for the children."

"And what then?" Mary asked around the gag as she fought for purchase on the floor with her toes. "Frighten women into keeping babies they can't care for? Making lives miserable for all involved?" Her words were mumbled and hard to follow.

"I am making things right!" Mr. Dempsey lashed out with the knife. The tip caught her cheek, leaving a thin ribbon of blood behind.

"Your thinking is warped. If you wish to make a difference, help by doing something good for the orphanages or petition parliament for change." A haze of rage dropped over Gabriel's vision. The man would pay for every mark he'd given Mary, and now that he could see a bruise forming on the side of her face, he was even more adamant to have this man arrested.

"Stay back!" Mr. Dempsey lunged at Gabriel when he would have grabbed the man's hand. "I'll kill you too, Inspector. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?"

"And let you continue your reign of terror? I am not that sort of man."

Mary huffed. She spoke through the gag, but it was her eyes that spoke to what was on her heart as she looked at her captor. "The woman you killed in the theatre. That Miss Kessler? She was in love with her protector and he with her." Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. "I fully believe that after they met in the gardens that night, he would have asked her to marry him, convince her to give up the scandalous life she was living. They would have retrieved their child to be a family." Even garbled due to the rag stuffed in her mouth, the speech was quite eloquent.

"What?" Shock registered in his expression as well as his voice. "They were in love?"

This was the opening Gabriel had been hoping for. "We believe that they were, but you killed her, and that romance ended. We can only hope Lord Carmichael will find his child."

The knife dipped slightly. "They loved each other?" Apparently, the man didn't believe it or couldn't fathom that a courtesan was capable of such.

"Yes, and in your misguided fervor, you took that from them." Gabriel's muscles tensed, for he was done with this Drury Lane farce. "That child will never have a chance to meet his mother because of you ." Then he sprang at the man.

They grappled with each other for possession of the knife while Mary made panicked sounds. Outside in the corridor, noise of the approaching fire reached his ears, and cold fear shot down his spine. If they didn't get out now, they might not have another chance.

In that distraction, Mr. Dempsey slashed at him. The blade's tip cut along the side of Gabriel's neck and another tore through his shirt to slice his chest.

"Bright!" Of course it was Mary who gave him the help he needed. She swung, and the momentum of her weight carried her to their location. With her feet, she knocked into Mr. Dempsey enough that it rendered him off balance.

With a grunt, Gabriel took hold of the madman's arm, twisted it enough that the blade fell from his fingers. It clattered against the marble. Then he delivered a hard punch to Mr. Dempsey's jaw that sent him reeling, but a blow to his gut had the man falling to his arse on the floor. "We are done here, and you are under arrest, Mr. Dempsey," he said between winded pants.

"No!" Though the man winced in pain, he picked himself up from the floor. "You can't stop me in my mission. I'm doing God's work." Then, with a glance brimming with hatred at Mary, he fled into the corridor.

"The cases get crazier with each one." It wasn't worth it to him to go after the killer, for there were more pressing matters. On his way to reach Mary, Gabriel kicked the knife away. As soon as he freed her from the restraints and yanked off the gag, she fell into his arms.

It was one of the sweetest moments in his life. "Are you all right?" Though he wanted to inspect her for injuries, all he did for a few seconds was hold her.

"More or less, but I'm frightened." Fear quaked in her voice. "Is it true there is a fire?"

"Yes." And it was the only thing driving him. "We must go. Everyone else has evacuated, and the fire is raging out of control." Then he couldn't stand it. He gathered her even closer, quickly kissed her, then rested his forehead to hers so he could peer into her eyes. "When I figured it out, I feared the worst."

"It was horrible, but I knew you would come." Her hand resting on his chest trembled. "Your heart is pounding."

Finally, he allowed himself a tiny grin. "Sweeting, my heart has been pounding since the day I met you, and it hasn't stopped."

"Oh?" She looked at him with moisture-spiked lashes and his world tilted.

He nodded. "Somehow, you have managed to lead me on a merry chase, and I have willingly followed. Let us hope our marriage will never stop being exciting or full of adventure."

"Ha." Briefly, she kissed his lips. "It could stand to be a bit less exciting than tonight."

Though they both laughed, it was a shaky affair.

"Come. We need to evacuate." Then he took her hand and led her from the horrible scene of her torture.

Except, it wasn't that easy, for as they fought their way toward the stairs, the fire was licking along the walls.

"This isn't good," Mary whispered as she clung to his hand.

"Try not to think about it." As quickly and carefully as he could, he guided her down the stairs to the second level landing. Here, the flames were more intense, and the corridors were shrouded with heavy, acrid smoke. His heart sank. "We need some sort of covering else we'll not make it to the ground level and safety." Already, his breathing was labored .

She gasped and then coughed. "The drapes in the drawing room?"

"Might as well. There will be no salvaging this building," he said as he led her into the darker smoke along the corridor. "It's too far from help or even a fire brigade even though the sea is close."

She coughed again but didn't comment, but she helped him yank down the curtains. "What now?"

"Wrap it about yourself. I'll do the same." Once that was accomplished, he moved to a table where a vase of flowers rested. Then after tossing away the flowers, he dumped the water over her head. "The dampness might help with keeping the fire from us for a bit." Seconds later, he grabbed a second vase and did the same thing to himself. "Ready?"

"Yes." Fear shadowed her eyes. "I'm frightened, Gabriel. What if we don't—"

"Don't think it. Don't even say it." Though he was terrified as well, he tucked the emotion away in an effort to prove strong for her. With a hand on her shoulder, he peered into her eyes through the gathering smoke. "I will protect you until the last. You are my heart and my most exciting adventure, and we are going to survive this together."

"I know." She clutched his hand.

"Stay as low as you can in the corridor and stairs. It will help with breathing," he cautioned while they left the drawing room.

Immediately, the heat of the fire pressed in on him. The smoke was horrid, and though he tried his best to walk and crouch at the same time, breathing became more difficult.

Navigating to the staircase proved a frightening endeavor, but not as much as plunging down the stairs while the walls burned. Thankfully, the marble treads didn't burn, but falling debris and the ever-present smoke made progress difficult. He clung to her hand as tightly as she did to his, and that touch became a lifeline of sorts.

Though they'd reached the ground level, Gabriel quickly became disoriented. Fire raged all around them. Beams from the ceiling and sections of the walls fell into their path, which forced them to find a different way through. Unidentified things crashed to the floor all around them. And through it all, the fire glowed an eerie orange through the thick dark smoke.

"If we don't get out of the house soon, it will collapse upon us." Where the devil were the doors? He couldn't remember after all the twists and turns they'd had to take due to the falling debris.

"We'll do our best." She squeezed his hand, and that reenergized his resolve. "But we are together. "

"Right."

With every step, breathing became more labored. His lungs ached. His muscles hurt. But he kept going, step by step. At some point, the damp drapery slipped from his shoulders; he couldn't go back for it. In the eerie darkness, Gabriel tripped over a burning piece of timber. He fell to one knee, but Mary tugged on his hand, grounding him. After quickly scrambling to his feet, they continued as best they could.

When he discerned a bright light that was different from the glow of the fire, he cried out, hoping that it was the entrance to the common gardens at the rear of the townhouse.

With victory within their grasp, he concentrated on that, but then Mary collapsed.

"Go ahead, Bright." Her voice was graveled. A coughing gag took hold of her. "It hurts… to breathe… to move." She tried to shove him away as she sank more fully to the floor. "Go and know… I… love you."

"I'm not leaving you behind." Shoving away the fear and sorrow, pushing it deep down in his chest, Gabriel gathered her into his arms and picked her up. He staggered, got his bearings, and then continued along the burning corridor with his gaze focused on the bright light. For the moment, he ignored the pain in his lungs and chest, ignored how the burning embers in the air landed on his sleeves and the drapery still protecting Mary's form.

Finally, he came upon the door that led to the gardens, and as soon as he shoved it open with a hip, he stumbled outside. There was no time to rejoice, for he was far too close to the burning building for his liking, so he kept putting one foot in front of the other, followed the path to the shore.

When his stamina gave out somewhere on the beach, he uttered a soft cry of gratitude as he collapsed onto the sand. The gentle rain cooled his overheated skin but it wasn't enough to help put out the fire. People had gathered a bit away the area from where he and Mary were. They stood about in varying degrees of shock and dismay as they watched the demise of the Agape Spa.

While sucking in the relatively cleaner air given off by the sea, he rested his back against a large boulder. Then he hauled Mary into his lap. Ripping off the smoldering drapery, he gently tapped her cheek. "Mary?" He turned her face toward his, tapped her cheek again until her eyes fluttered and she looked groggily at him. What if she'd inhaled too much of the poisoned smoke? "Mary, can you hear me?"

Please, sweeting, I can't lose you now.

"I… I…" Soot streaked her face. Parts of the horrid wig smoked from the fire. He wrenched it from her head and tossed it away, but it seemed both of them were none the worse for wear .

"Breathe, love, breathe in the clean air," he softly encouraged as he wiped away some of the soot and ash from her skin. "We are by the sea and safe." He cupped her cheek, slid his hand to her neck as he peered down into her face. Then the hold on his control slipped, and tears wet his cheeks as reaction set in. "It's over. We're safe." By all rights, they shouldn't have survived either the knife-wielding maniac or the burning townhouse, but somehow, they did. "We're safe." It bore repeating.

For a long time, they sat there watching the ever-moving waves of the sea while fluffy white clouds scudded across the gray skies. In the background, the fire raged. The whole townhouse was engulfed in the flames, and the sound of the building collapsing onto itself reached his ears. It took several moments, but Mary's breath became less labored, and his lungs ceased to burn with each inhalation.

Eventually, he stirred. "I'm damned grateful we're alive, though all our luggage and clothing is gone. On the other hand, as soon as the traveling coach arrives, we can simply leave." It hurt to laugh, so he cut the sound off short.

"But we are not gone, and you are the most valuable thing anyway." She leaned in and kissed his lips. The faint taste of smoke and blood made itself known on his tongue, but damn if that wasn't the sweetest kiss he'd ever received. "Thank you, Gabriel, for saving my life—again. Thank you for everything, for this life you have given me and the future therein."

"It is my honor and my privilege." Moisture rose into his eyes, for they had very nearly lost each other.

She snorted, touched her fingertips to his hair and brushed debris away. "It might sound wicked, but I hope Mr. Dempsey has perished in the fire. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to roam free to continue their evil ways."

Silently, he agreed, and he nodded. "Once the fire is out and settled, and the authorities go through the wreckage, only then will we know, but if killings start again, I will go after him."

"I know you will because you are a good man." With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. "Theresa finally has had justice, but I feel so sad for her. I like to think there was a lovely future finally in store for her."

"At least her pain, confusion, and struggle are over." Gabriel held his wife closer, for she was his everything. "Has this helped to put the past to rest for you?"

"Oddly yes." Mary lifted her head to meet his gaze. "The spa burning down is like my past going to ashes as well. There is no way back and neither do I wish to visit any longer."

"Good." With a grim grin, he held her closer. "There is nothing more to do than go to the townhouse we've rented and enjoy the remainder of our holiday with Cassandra." Frankly, that sounded like heaven just now. "I'll leave that direction with the authorities when they arrive for updates."

"Yes, let us do that." Mary held him close as well. "I want to keep my loved ones with me right now after everything. This case has made me see I am truly a fortunate woman."

"I agree with that statement, and I feel the same every morning.

At the end of the day, that was the most important thing to keep in mind. When a man realized what it was that he valued, he would do anything to keep it close and sacred. A happy and content future was priceless, and the more hard-won it was, the more valuable he considered it.

There was nothing comparable to it in the world.