“We’re better than good, my love.” He leaned down and kissed her. “By the by, the inquest is tomorrow morning at nine. As I discovered the body, I’ll need to testify.”
“Wediscovered the body.”
“Yes, but since we were together, you aren’t required to attend. The magistrate is no doubt protecting your ladylike sensibilities.” He grinned at her and gave her another kiss, slower this time. She tasted the brandy on his tongue.
“He doesn’t realize you are a ferocious creature,” he added when he released her.
Her chin jerked up. “I’m going.”
“I had no reason to think otherwise. Did you learn anything from the postmortem?”
Maybe because she’d expected more of an argument, she had to take a moment to recalibrate. “Thornton’s and Jenny’s throats were cut using a scalpel.”
He threw her a startled look. “Well, that certainly supports your hypothesis that a physician or surgeon is responsible. Unless that’s the fiend’s intention.”
Kendra had to grin. “You’ve got a very suspicious mind, my lord. I like it.”
He chuckled. “But you don’t believe the fiend was trying to deceive authorities?”
“No. There were no hesitation marks. Who uses a scalpel with such comfort, such confidence and ease, that they can slice through flesh and muscle on the first try?”
“I imagine that’s a rhetorical question, but I’ll say it—a surgeon.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Kendra ran through her theory that they were dealing with a rogue doctor—or doctors. When she was done, Alec eyed her over the rim of his glass. “You believe we’re dealing with more than one killer?”
“Not necessarily,” she said slowly. “I’m talking about the experiments. Dr. Thornton knew about them, or suspected. It’s not difficult to believe that a few like-minded individuals decided to work together in their research.”
“Good God. You could be talking about the entire club.”
“I think we’re dealing with two people, maybe three. I don’t see many more than that.”
“Why?”
She smiled. “To quote Benjamin Franklin, ‘Three can keep a secret if two are dead.’ People talk. It’s human nature. The more people involved, the more likely that word would’ve gotten out, especially if they’re excited about their research.”
He shook his head. “You say research like it didn’t involve killing a young woman. Maybe more women, seeing as Isabella Russo has disappeared.”
“Whatever happened to Clarice—or Isabella—I don’t think they considered it murder.Exitus acta probat—any death is justified by the end result of what they’re hoping to accomplish.”
But how, Kendra wondered, could they think draining Clarice of all her blood would save her? Even quack doctors in this century had to know that a human couldn’t live without blood for any length of time. Unless . . .
“Was it supposed to be a transfusion of some kind?” Kendra asked aloud. She locked eyes with Alec.
“If so, they forgot to replace it,” Alec said dryly.
“The Metamorphosis Club is meeting tonight at Sir Preston’s,” she told him. “They’ll be honoring Dr. Thornton, raising a toast in his memory. Hopefully we’ll be able to figure out more from that.”
And she knew deep in her gut that there would be one member lifting his glass to honor the man that he’d murdered.
Chapter 30
At 8:00 p.m., a long-faced butler escorted Kendra, Alec, and the Duke through Sir Preston’s neoclassical mansion in the fashionable Portman Square. It felt like walking through a museum rather than a home, with the gray-veined marble floors; Ionic columns framing wide doorways; life-sized, exquisitely carved Hellenistic sculptures; rococo artwork hanging on the walls.
In the drawing room, a footman came forward carrying a silver platter. Instead of drinks, though, it held black strips of fabric: mourning armbands. While the Duke and Alec put them on, Kendra surveyed the room. Area rugs in burnished gold, muted greens, and grayish-blues softened the space up a bit, as did the sofas and chairs arranged in conversational pockets. Twenty-plus men, all wearing black armbands, were talking in low voices around the room. A few occupied chairs; others stood in front of the enormous fireplace with a marble-and-wood mantle, taking advantage of the warmth of the fire raging in the grate. Most of the men, however, were crowded in front of the long buffet, which carried an assortment of drinks on one end and platters of food on the other.
Kendra noticed Dr. Munroe in the group near the fireplace, while Dandridge, Goldsten, and Burnell were near the buffet table. There were other faces that were familiar—from Goldsten’s surgery and St. George’s. She recognized Mr. Barts, Mr. Dawes, and Mr. Beane among the apprentices.
