Chapter 23

Dance Card

" M iss Walsh? Is there a free space on your card?" Lord Buckley inquired.

"Why of course—"

"The lady's dance card is full," a deep male voice interrupted from behind her.

Briana whirled around to find Victor standing there, his face dark with displeasure. "That is not true, Lord Cambridge. I have a space available for Lord Buc—"

Victor snatched the card and pencil from her hand, and scrawled his name in huge letters across the entire card.

"There, it's full now. Piss off, Buckley!" He dismissed the red-faced man and led Briana to the dance floor, drawing her into his arms as the music began.

"That was abominably rude!"

"He will recover."

"You didn't even ask if I wanted to dance."

"Would you have accepted?"

Briana merely bit her lip.

"Just as I suspected, you stubborn wench."

"Don't call me a wench, you boorish dragon!" she snapped as the waltz carried them across the floor.

"Sticks and stones, my darling."

"Do not call me darling. If you're forcing me to dance, we may as well do it in silence."

"You have been avoiding me all evening in favor of these bloody buffoons. I had no other choice but to force your hand."

"I assumed you'd be too busy with your tongue down Lady Seymour's throat," she retorted.

"There was no tongue involved. Besides, you taste better than any woman." Victor immediately regretted his words and their implications when he saw a stricken expression flash across Briana's face.

Before he could retract them, the music ended. Briana pulled away with a slight nod and turned to leave, pasting a brittle smile on her face for appearances. The sting of his comment smarted, along with the realization that he had enough experience to make such comparisons.

Victor strode beside her. "Miss Walsh, I apologize for my comment. I was unforgivably rude. I meant to say that Lady Seymour's advances were unwelcome. Had you remained longer, you would have noticed I did not return her kiss and I set her away immediately."

"My lord, please do not trouble yourself. I should not have pried. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a frightful headache."

"Then allow me to escort you home."

"No, please, it is not necessary."

Victor hated seeing Briana so distant, that wall between them rising once more—and he had caused it with his careless words. In desperation, he said, "Please, may I call upon you tomorrow? We need to talk, to clear the air between us. There is much I need to say. I regret my behavior towards you. I should have listened that morning. Please understand, there has been no other woman in my bed since you."

Briana met his gaze for the first time, searching for truth. She frowned. "You expect me to believe that? It has been many months, my lord. I doubt a man with your appetites can abstain that long."

"We are not all beasts, Miss Walsh. Please give me a chance to explain myself."

Briana was about to respond when they were interrupted.

"My lord? I do believe we have a dance now," Camille Fenton simpered.

Briana seized the excuse to leave. "My lord," she said, then nodded and practically sprinted back to Maude.

Victor gritted his teeth at the atrocious timing. Good grief, every woman except the one he wanted kept interfering with his life! He had finally rid himself of Lydia only to have Camille damned Fenton batting her lashes at him. He wanted to tear his hair out, but propriety dictated these events. "Very well," he muttered and escorted Camille to the floor.

"My lord, may I commend you on your character? It is marvelous how charitable you are towards Miss Walsh despite her lowly birth. But I do hope you are mindful that as members of the aristocracy, and her betters, we must lead by example and ensure she does not rise above her station."

Victor's head snapped down toward Camille Fenton, his eyes blazing with anger. "Miss Walsh is the finest woman I know. I'll not have you hurling veiled insults her way. I also suggest, Miss Fenton, that you speak as little as possible until this blasted dance is over!"

Camille gasped in shock, her face reddening with embarrassment. Her plan to disparage Briana in Victor's presence had backfired spectacularly. They finished the dance in awkward silence, Victor maintaining only the barest civility required. When the music ended, he gave a curt nod and strode from the ballroom without a backward glance, intent on finding Briana.

The Orangery

AFTER THE DANCE WITH Victor left her feeling unhinged, Briana remained anchored to wallflower row, once again invisible as gentlemen engaged with their partners. She counted down the hours until she could reasonably depart without casting suspicion regarding the stolen sapphires. In truth, she felt miserable watching Victor dance with several beauties. His comment had sliced through her heart—that he had enough experience to compare kisses while she remained a fanciful fool. At least this was her final assignment for the earl, her last theft. She had finally worked off her debt and gathered enough information to aid justice. She needed only to survive the remainder of the week, and then she would take all her findings to the authorities. Then Briana Walsh was done with balls and the ton altogether.

Lost in her reverie, she startled when a footman appeared beside her with a note. Briana frowned, thanked him, and read it. Supposedly from the earl—strange that he would contact her here. The note merely directed her to meet in the Orangery. Likely Thomas being melodramatic.

brIANA REACHED THE doors and eased them open, scanning for any presence before sighing in relief at finding it empty. Briana closed the door and crept toward the orange shrub three rows from the back, where the note promised another message. ‘Look for loose signs of dirt,’ it had said. In the darkness, she carefully counted rows until she found her target.

As she loosened the soil to search, a noise behind her made her spin around. She barely raised her arms in time to block a shovel aimed at her skull. Her attacker raised it again. Briana stepped back, blocking the blow again as she screamed. A hard fist slammed into her jaw. She dodged a second punch but stumbled backward, hitting the stone floor hard. Her hip exploded with pain. Through the darkness, she could only make out a dark suit and mask. Her assailant lifted a heavy pot above her head. Briana kicked upward into his groin, then rolled away as he dropped the pot, clutching himself.

She scrambled on all fours to escape, but strong hands seized her ankles, dragging her back across the floor. Lord above, this brute meant to kill her. She kicked and screamed, finally connecting with his head. He grunted and released her. She bolted for the door but was tackled from behind, her chin cracking against stone. She groaned as cold iron pressed against her throat.

"The only way to leave is in a wooden box," a male voice growled.

Briana slammed her head backward, she heard his nose crack. He dropped the knife, howling. Terror fueling her, she fled the orangery.

Hearing approaching footsteps, she knew she couldn't return to the ballroom in her disheveled state. She needed safety. She sprinted down a side path straight to her carriage. Mr. Mason would protect her. She could sort everything else afterward.

VICTOR MADE DISCREET inquiries about Briana's whereabouts once he escaped the ballroom. When he heard the scream from the atrium, he burst through the doors, but found no one—only disturbed orange pots and smashed clay everywhere. Moving closer, he noticed signs of a struggle. His heart lodged in his throat.

Where was Briana? Was she hurt? He began shouting her name as he moved through the building, then ran outside. Looking down for any clue about what happened, he noticed a small red sash hanging precariously on a branch. Briana's! Victor sprinted down the side path. He caught sight of her in the distance, bolting towards her carriage, terror evident in her bearing. There was no way—no way in hell—he was letting her leave alone. Victor sprinted after her and threw himself inside the carriage.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Pure rage filled him.

brIANA WAS TERRIFIED , shaking so hard she thought she would never feel safe again. Mr. Mason took one look at her and knew he had to get her to safety, but there was a crush and the carriage moved slowly. The ordeal was sending her into shock, yet she had to remain calm. She leapt into the carriage and had just settled back against the cushions, bruises forming along her arms, her dress torn, her lip bleeding, when she heard a commotion outside. When the door abruptly swung open, she cried out, ready to fight off an attack. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was Victor. He slammed the door shut, his face filled with rage.

"What the devil happened to you?"

"I... I..." she rasped, then began shaking uncontrollably. To her utter humiliation, she burst into tears.

Before Briana knew what was happening, Victor lifted her onto his lap and engulfed her in his arms. She was grateful he did that—it saved her the humiliation of throwing herself at him. What she needed most was comfort and knowing she had survived an attempt on her life. But why? She buried her face in his neck and allowed the tears to fall.

"Shh, it's all right, love. I'm here. You're safe now. Tell me what the devil happened?"

Briana sniffed and sobbed between hiccups, relaying what happened but leaving out the main parts of why she was there. She said only that she thought it was her cousin Thomas and she had foolishly gone out alone into the night.

“I shall have to report this to the authorities.”

“No! Please you cannot not.”

“But Officer Maxwell will know what to do.”

“You cannot. Please he is the last person I wish to inform. It will only cause unnecessary scan...dal.” Her voice hitched with the last word.

“Alright, my love. We shall keep it between us for now. But I will find the culprit.”

Briana nodded with tears shimmering in her eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

VICTOR WAS ALMOST UNMANNED by the look of utter devastation in Briana's eyes. She was so vulnerable—he had never seen her this way. He was grateful he had decided to follow her because he could not let her go. To think that someone had tried to kill her in the orangery. She had fled, not knowing where to go, only that she needed to head home.

They sat in silence for a long while Victor held her, soothing and comforting her. He would get to the bottom of what happened, but first she needed to calm from her shock. Her hair was a mess, her clothes in disarray, and dirt smudged all over her face yet he thought he had never seen anyone lovelier.

Briana lay her head against his chest forehead tucked into the crook of his neck, clasping tight to his arm while he enveloped her in his huge bulk.

Victor knew the moment Briana stopped sobbing. She looked up at him with forlorn, lost eyes, and he wiped the tears away. Ever the investigator, he wanted to know why. Why was she attacked? Slowly and gently he extracted information: what the culprit looked like, what the message said. He would get to the bottom of this, but his first concern was her safety above all else.

When the carriage stopped, he got out and escorted Briana inside. Mr. Mason remained vigilant. They spoke in hushed tones as Laura and Serena saw to their mistress.

Victor, Mr. Mason, and Renwick talked quietly about what happened and how they were going to proceed.

brIANA WAS FRESHLY bathed and felt somewhat better. Bruises were forming on her chin and arms, and apart from scrapes and a small, nicked cut across her neck, she was fine. It was more her psyche that was rattled. Dressed in a shift and robe with slippers, she went downstairs to talk to the men. She assumed Victor had left, and while she felt the loss, she was too exhausted to think of anything else.

She was surprised when Renwick said, "His lordship is remaining the night. The guest chamber is made up and a heated bath readied. He and Mr. Mason have secured the house."

"He cannot. It will create scandal."

"No one need ever know, Miss. It is more important that you remain safe."

Briana was about to argue but suddenly felt fatigued. The adrenaline and shock of the evening were beginning to take their toll. Instead, she merely nodded her head and replied, "Please ensure his lordship has every comfort afforded to him. I apologize, but I really must rest."

"Do not worry about a thing, Mistress," Renwick replied.

Briana thanked him then trudged back upstairs and collapsed into her bed.

Stolen Kisses

SOMETIME DURING THE night Briana jolted awake with a gasp, her heart thundering against her ribs. The nightmare that had gripped her slowly dissolved giving way to reality as she felt the solid warmth of strong arms around her and the familiar scent of sandalwood.

"Shh, my darling. You are safe," Victor’s deep voice murmured against her ear, as he tightened his arms about her. "No one can hurt you, love."

Briana instantly relaxed and snuggled deeper into his embrace until reality came crashing in on her. “Victor!”

“Yes?”

“Wha... what are you doing in my bed?” she rasped.

“I am protecting you.”

"You cannot be here. It is most improper—"

Victor interrupted her objection with a gentle kiss to her lips. "Calm down, beauty. I could not leave you alone, not after the fright you endured.” His arms tightened around her.

Briana melted instantly and turned into his embrace. Even in the shadows, his dark eyes held such tender regard. Briana would never forget how Victor had held her in the carriage ride as if sheltering her from the storm. Her heart ached with longing.

"I keep reliving the attack," she admitted, her fingers gently caressing his jawline.

Victor placed a chaste kiss upon her fingers and replied, “No one will ever hurt you again.”

His lips found hers, soft and sweet. Briana melted into his embrace as each gentle caress banished another fragment of her nightmare.

"You should return to the guest chamber," she protested half-heartedly.

"I will, before dawn but for now I simply want to hold you in my arms and convince myself that you are safe," he replied, dropping gentle kisses along her brow.

They lay in comfortable silence as Victor continued to stroke her back with his fingers.

“I missed you, Victor,” Briana whispered.

“Not as much as I have missed you, Briana,” he replied before giving her a look that spoke of his need of her. “I swear to you there has been no-one since that night months ago. But, what of you?”

She shook her head. “You are the only man I have shared such intimacies with.”

Victor felt his heart explode with need but he stilled when he felt her gentle fingers caress his bare chest. He wore only pants and a long robe—clean garments provided by her staff after he had enjoyed a steaming hot bath in the guest chamber. But now, he was in bed with the woman he could not stop obsessing over. A woman he had developed the strongest feelings for. Even when they were at odds, he never stopped thinking about her.

It wasn't just lust he felt seeing her, but attraction to everything about her—her mind, her character, her intellect. She was shy and vulnerable, intelligent but humble. She made him feel alive.

He felt her gentle fingers slide lower towards his groin...

Briana knew she wanted this. A night of passion with the only man she had ever loved. For by the end of the week, her job with the earl would have ended, and she would quit the ton entirely and return to the shadows. A man like Victor would never understand her curious mind and her need to right wrongs. He would feel only derision. He would most definitely abandon her if he ever knew the truth. But Briana would take this and savor it for a lifetime. As her fingers brushed the hardened length she felt through his undergarment, she gazed into his eyes, making it clear what she wanted.

"Victor, I want you to make love to me. Make me forget the violence of this night. I wish to experience everything."

Victor tried hard to breathe. He felt flattered and in awe. He read Briana's meaning loud and clear, and he was losing all semblance of control. But he needed to make sure she understood what was about to happen between them was not a fleeting encounter to him. It would change their lives forever.

"You play a dangerous game, my love. I want you like I have wanted no other. I can scarce contain my passion nor my feelings." He stilled her fingers so he could focus. "But if we do this, my darling, it will bind us together forever."

"No, please let there be no ultimatums. Not now. Can we not just take this moment by moment?"

Victor's expression softened. "Of course, beauty. We shall speak of it another time."

They slowly shed their garments until they were naked to each other's gaze. They had been this way before, months ago, yet it felt as if they had never parted. Instinctively, the memories came flooding back, and Briana knew what to do. She gently stroked his length as he leaned in and laved his tongue across a taut nipple before pulling her breast into his mouth and sucking hard. Briana shuddered and tightened her fist around his length as she stroked him faster. Then she moved and nudged him until he was on his back, his glorious length jutting out between them.

Briana gave him a wicked smile before she bent forward and licked the tip, then took him completely into her mouth. Victor's hips jerked slightly, and she heard him muttering curses. She grinned because she could not believe that a man so brash and powerful, dark and sinful as Victor could be brought to his knees under her power. She tasted and suckled him, stroked every inch, watching his stomach muscles go taut with pleasure. She extracted every last groan from deep inside his chest, felt every vein as he throbbed in her hand and under her spell. She was gifting him—her body, her heart, her mind. This was theirs and only theirs to share. She would make it as hard for him to leave her, to forget her.

"Stop, love, mercy. I want to be inside you when you take your pleasure," he rasped through pants of breath.

Briana cried out in surprise when Victor pulled away and flipped her onto her back, then his body covered hers. Skin to skin, it felt exquisite. Nothing between them but anticipation. Victor returned the favor and began his exploration of her body. Wherever his hands roamed, his mouth and tongue forged a path.

Briana moaned with pleasure as her entire body set alight with passion's fire. Victor left no part of her untouched. He spread her thighs wide as he lowered his head and took his fill. He lapped his tongue against her pearl until she reached her peak. Before she could scream out her pleasure, he was hovering above her once more, his mouth slamming over hers as he swallowed her scream with a passionate kiss. Briana clung to him, digging her fingers into his back as he spread her thighs further to accommodate his hips. She felt his hardened length glide between her glistening folds.

"Beauty," he rasped. "I cannot hold out much longer. I need to make you mine completely."

"Please, Victor. I need you," she whispered.

Victor thrust several times against her heated core to lubricate his length. He knew this was her first time, and he wanted to make it special for her.

"You have me, my love. Everything I have is yours. I will try not to hurt you."

"I trust you, Victor."

"And I trust you," he said, and he meant it to encompass all the connotations the word afforded.

When he could hold out no longer, Victor placed himself at her center and slowly entered. He groaned at the feel of her tight silken sheath stretching to accommodate his size until she enveloped most of his length. Then he thrust the rest of the way, past her barrier as he sank into her silken depths. She took every inch of him, and he felt the connection deeply. After her momentary gasp, her breathing steadied once more. Victor stared into her loving eyes to see if she was all right. No words were spoken between them, but she smiled and nodded her head. Then he moved and led them on a dance as old as time. He withdrew then drove deep, pounding hard against her heat. Repeatedly with equal fervor. Devouring her inch by inch.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her expression awash with ecstasy. Yes, she was enjoying this as much as he was. That was all he needed to keep driving deep. She became impossibly wetter and he harder... There was wanton innocence, and he wanted to beat his chest that it was all for him. That he would be the only man to give her pleasure like this for an eternity. And in turn, he would be the only man to gain her smiles and experience intimate knowledge of her pleasure.

They moved as one, stroking in and out, and he loved the noises she was making—her whimpers, the sounds of their flesh meeting in ecstasy. Then he felt her body go rigid and she shouted his name, her thighs wrapping around him to bring him closer and deeper inside. He complied. He thrust twice more and felt the tremors of her contractions across his entire length all the way to his tip. Nothing between them, no clothes, no sheaths, just pure unadulterated ecstasy. He was deep inside and felt the tingling sensation begin. Each time her inner channel massaged him tightly, he groaned out her name as he lost all control until finally he felt his seed burst powerfully within. He drowned her with his release. It would not stop—he felt drained as Briana continued to milk him of every drop while she moaned continuously. His lips found hers as his hips spasmed and she shuddered under the relentless onslaught as they both reached their peak. Then he collapsed beside her, pulling her close as they both came down from their orgasmic heights. Their bodies still connected, their breathing labored, then slowly in the aftermath and sheen of perspiration, he knew there was no way he was ever giving her up.

Briana was surprised at the intimacy of having Victor hold and caress her. His lips softly pressed kisses against her lips, the tip of her nose, her cheeks and eyes while his gaze, blazing with something she had never seen before, remained openly fixed on her. The connection, the depth was mesmerizing. She realized then she loved this man so deeply, and she smiled at him in return. It was filled with all the emotion she could no longer contain as a tear fell with the realization that she could not possibly keep him. He frowned, then she smiled again and said, "That was the most amazing thing I have ever experienced."

Victor's expression softened when he said, "I am glad of it, my love. Because I can honestly say it was the exact same for me."

Sometime later, after they had cleaned up and lay face to face in her bed, Victor said, "Briana."

"Yes."

"Whatever it is, the secrets you protect, I know exactly who you are, and nothing will change my feelings for you. Nothing."

Briana kissed him and snuggled deeper into his embrace. Soon her eyelids became heavy with the need to sleep, and so did his. Victor wrapped his arms tighter around her and said, "Sleep, beauty."

"You too, my love," she replied.

Victor brushed his lips across hers once more then followed her into slumber's warm and comforting embrace.

When Briana next opened her eyes, the early morning light was streaming through her windows, and she was alone. She glanced to the side of the bed where Victor had slept and saw a note on the pillow. It said,

“Beauty,

I shall call upon you this afternoon. Try not to get up to any mischief while I’m gone. And for heaven’s sake do not pick any oranges!

Eternally yours,

V.C

Even though she was slightly sore all over, Briana burst out laughing.

Victor’s Study, St James

VICTOR WAS CONDUCTING business at his home and making preparations to apply for a marriage license when Officer Maxwell arrived.

"Agent X has struck again. There's been another jewel heist and another body," Officer Maxwell said.

"Devil take it. Where?"

"Last evening, the Thatchers were robbed of their priceless sapphire collection. It would appear the theft occurred during their annual ball."

"I was in attendance last night, along with a veritable crush of patrons. Anyone might have stolen it or gained access."

"Not necessarily. According to Lord Thatcher, their strong room is situated in the upper story master bedchamber. There is but one stairwell leading up to it, and that access was guarded throughout. The only persons who entered were the Thatchers themselves, though the guard intimated there was another gentleman present. He was, however, reluctant to name names in front of Lord Thatcher."

"I suspect that would be Lord Jersey."

"It would appear to be Lady Thatcher's lover, yes. I have discreetly questioned Lord Jersey, and he claims no knowledge of the robbery."

"So the thief would have had to circumvent the guards by climbing in through another means. Then they had to blend in with the company for the remainder of the evening."

"Precisely."

Victor began pacing. He wondered if X was Briana’s attacker. That was the only explanation that made sense. Briana may have surprised the thief somehow and he tried to murder her. He was tempted to share his information with Maxwell, but he had promised Briana not to tell.

As Victor paced trying to work out the mess in his mind, he felt something nagging at him to think objectively and separate emotion from logic. Then he frowned when he had another thought. What if Briana was in a cahoots with X her attacker and they had an altercation. After all she was the only person, he had observed climbing any walls the previous evening. Surely not?

"What troubles you, my lord?" Maxwell asked.

"Oh, nothing. But pray, tell me. Do you know where the safe was located in each robbery?"

"I do indeed. Come to think on it, every strong room that was breached was situated above stairs. It appears the thief gained entry through an upper story window or terrace for each one.”

Victor had another thought and asked, "Maxwell, have you knowledge of a place called Pinchbeck's?"

"Aye, I have. They craft watches, clocks, and various pieces of jewelry."

"Interesting. I believe I have some further investigation to do.”

"Do you care to share your suspicions?"

"Not quite yet. 'Tis but an inkling for now, and I would not wish to waste your time or resources until I am certain."

"Well, pray be sure to take a guard, whatever you do."

"Duly noted. Now, what of the deceased?"

"A woman in a maid's livery found a street away from the Thatcher residence."

"Her identity?"

"This one was known to us. Her name was Tabitha Michelson. She had been in the employ of an earl." Maxwell leafed through his notes, paused at a page, and said, "The Earl of Rochford. Is he known to you?"

"No, I have never made his acquaintance."

"Indeed, well, he appears to be somewhat of a recluse and thus far has not permitted our officers to question either him or his staff."

"Hmm, that is most suspicious behavior for an aristocrat. Perhaps I might pay him a visit. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, as it happens. Tabitha Michelson also served time in Fleet Prison prior to taking up her position with the earl."

Victor stiffened. Instinctively, an alarm sounded in his mind. "Maxwell, regarding the other murders—they were all women of similar ages. Might it be possible they were also under the employ of this earl, and they served time in Fleet Prison?"

"'Tis quite plausible. Though some were buried unidentified. For the others, I can certainly search the Fleet records to determine if they had prior convictions. Do you suspect a connection?"

"A very tenuous one. But I also need to examine the list of stolen jewels and artifacts again. There must be something of particular importance about those specific jewels that we are missing."

"I shall accompany you to the office. We maintain an extensive list and description of every piece."

Bow Street Office

VICTOR COULD SCARCE believe he had missed the connection before. Having examined the list of each stolen item, he discovered each piece of jewelry that had been stolen possessed one distinct feature. The main gemstone setting contained a secret glass compartment that could be used to conceal notes. X was most likely stealing the jewels for the notes. But what was the content of the notes he wondered. After calling on Pinchbeck’s he found the watch maker tight lipped about his dealings with the ton although he did say their establishment used an alloy mix and not real gold. Their craftmanship was so exquisite that often people could not tell the difference. He filed that piece of information away.

Victor then called on the Earl of Rochford's London residence, only to be informed the earl was in Bath taking the waters and would be away for the remainder of the week. Another thought occurred to Victor. It was possible Briana was somehow involved with the Earl of Rochford. If so, then it meant she too was in danger of becoming a victim. With these thoughts at the forefront of his mind, he hastened to see Briana and ensure she was safe. Much to his disappointment Briana was not home when he called.

Fleet Prison – Farringdon Street

DESPITE THE PREVIOUS night’s events, Briana still had much work to do so she dragged her tried self out of bed and ventured out to retrieve the sapphire set from Thomas. With Mr Mason and Renwick guarding her, she delivered the gems to Pinchbeck’s and patiently waited as the jeweller removed the hidden note so she could make a copy of it. It was the final piece. Now she had everything she needed.

On her way home she called in at Fleet Prison.

"Miss, another of the girls was found dead this morning."

"Who?"

"Tabitha."

"Good Lord, no. How long was she in here?" Briana asked.

"Over a year. Her debts got paid, then she left to work for some fine gentleman but we never heard a word till now."

"How did you learn of this?"

"Heard the guards talkin’ last night. One of ‘em said, 'She died cause she couldn't keep her trap shut.'"

"Thank you. Be careful and take this for your trouble." Briana handed the woman some coins through the Begging Grille, a barred window where the poorest prisoners could beg alms from those passing by. The woman grabbed the coin, then melted away into the shadows.

Briana clenched her jaw. It was just as she'd thought. The pattern was clear enough. Each victim was a former inmate of the Fleet. Their debts were paid by an anonymous patron, they found work with fine families, then a year later they'd turn up dead. What concerned her the most was she currently fit the description of each victim. Briana shuddered at the thought then recalled her attacker say, “The only way to leave is in a wooden box.” What did he mean? She needed more evidence on the latest murder.

As Briana left the Fleet, she felt that familiar prickle at the back of her neck that told her someone was watching her every move. She hurried over to Renwick and entered her carriage. She would need to do some investigating on her own and that would mean dressing as a young lad to avoid detection.