“You all right, lass?” Sam asked. He pointed his pistol at Dawes, who was on the ground, dazed and defeated, with tears sliding down his cheeks. If he hadn’t murdered Goldsten in cold-blood, she could almost feel sorry for him.
“I have to admit, I’ve had better days,” she said. “But this could’ve been worse. Your timing was perfect.”
The Bow Street Runner grinned at her, then his gaze moved beyond her. “Is he . . . ?”
Kendra turned back to Sir Preston’s body. “Yes. Water and electricity are a bad combination.”
“Stop yer blubbering, Edie!” Fish’s exclamation drew their attention. The mudlark was crouched in front of the cage holding Edwina. “I’m gonna get ye out of there, don’t ye worry.” Scowling, he looked over at Kendra. “Oy! Where’s the bloody key?”
Shit. “I might have to pick the lock—”
“Not bloody likely,” Alec said, and lifted her in his arms. “Mr. Kelly can handle it. We’re leaving.”
“Aye. Don’t you worry, lass,” Sam called after them. “I’ll find the key once I take care of Mr. Dawes.”
Kendra laid her head on Alec’s shoulder as he carried her up the stairwell. “They were going to experiment on me and Edwina.” The adrenaline rush was gone, leaving only the throbbing pain of her injury.
“I was born an experiment,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I’m never going to be an experiment again.”
Chapter 45
Three days later, Kendra was sitting in the drawing room with Alec and the Duke when Wakely appeared and announced a visitor. The butler ushered in Mr. Boothe, who looked as dapper as he had during their first meeting, now wearing a deep burgundy frock coat with an eye-popping yellow silk vest embroidered with red thread.
Alec and the Duke stood, greeted the royal clerk, then waved him into one of the wingback chairs near the crackling fire.
“Would you like a sherry?” Alec sauntered to the sideboard. “Or something stronger?”
“Thank you, sir. Sherry ought to take the chill off.” He flipped open the skirt of his frock coat so as to not crush the fabric when he sat down. “I am quite weary of the rain and cold.”
“As is everyone,” said the Duke, returning to his seat. “The food shortages and high prices have caused considerable stress on the populace. I’ve been reading in the newspapers about the riots that have begun to break out around the kingdom.”
“’Tis troubling. Thank you, sir,” Boothe said as Alec handed him a glass. “But I am not here to discuss the weather. I’m here to thank Lady Sutcliffe for her service. Her Majesty is aware that you were injured, my lady. How are you feeling?”
The clerk scrutinized her so closely that Kendra was sure he could see through her loose blue velvet round gown to the bandages wrapped tightly around her torso.
“Much better, thank you,” she replied. She’d had Munroe douse the laceration with whisky before he stitched her up. Whether it was that or Molly’s diligent application of herbs and ointments, Kendra had so far avoided the dreaded infection and fever that usually accompanied such injuries.
Mr. Boothe took a sip of his sherry, then sighed. “I confess, this entire series of events has been shocking. I’m not only speaking of the murders of Lady Westford and Dr. Thornton, but of the illegal experiments that Sir Preston and Mr. Dandridge were conducting.”
No mention of Jenny and Goldsten, Kendra noticed.
Mr. Boothe continued, “Mr. Dawes said that the women had agreed to participate, though.”
The Duke frowned. “What was the alternative? Mercury? ’Tis poison and they knew it. A future filled with sickness, madness, and blindness. They were offered hope and took it. But it was an illusion.”
“It’s shocking how such brilliant men could be so misguided,” Mr. Boothe murmured, shaking his head. “They honestly thought that their electricity machine could cure the pox? That they could use it to purify the blood? Such foolishness.”
Not so foolish, Kendra thought. Dandridge’s invention could be considered a prototype dialysis machine, or the precursor to advanced therapies like EBOO—extracorporeal blood oxygenation and ozonation—when blood was run through a filtration machine to clean it of toxins, viruses, and bacteria. Supposedly, it helped those suffering from chronic inflammation and autoimmune disorders, and sped up cellular healing.
Like Sir Francis Ronalds, Sir Preston and Dandridge were simply ahead of their time. Of course, Ronalds hadn’t experimented on human beings or committed murder to hide his activities or further his cause.
The Duke said, “What they did was inexcusable, and yet I wonder if they would have felt the need to cross those boundaries if the law were less restrictive. Science cannot flourish in darkness. There ought to be research and testing. If guidelines were established and lawful, who knows how far medicine could advance?”
Mr. Boothe exhaled heavily. “Well, it isn’t for me to say, thank God.”
“What will happen to Mr. Dawes?” Kendra asked. Muldoon had written an article on the illegal experiments that had caused Clarice’s death, but he hadn’t included names. Looking at Mr. Boothe now, Kendra sensed the hand of the government—or the Palace—in containing the fallout.
And the cover up begins . . .
