“Absolutely. Everything about him was different—his hands, his physical stature, his voice—everything.”
“You said that he was as mad as a hatter.”
“It was a figure of speech.”
“Logan and the press are convinced that the Bridegroom is quite mad,” Benedict pointed out.
“Well, surely no sane man would go about murdering women. What are you getting at, sir?”
“It just occurred to me that we might be overlooking a rather obvious clue. If the killer is truly mad, it is quite likely that someone who knows him well—a member of his family, perhaps—is aware of his unnatural behavior.”
She considered that briefly. “You may be right. But you know how it is when there is a streak of insanity in the family. People will go to great lengths to conceal it. Rumors of madness in the bloodline can destroy a high-ranking family. The other members of their social circle will refuse to allow their sons and daughters to take the risk of marrying into a clan that is perceived to be tainted by madness.”
“On the other hand,” Benedict said evenly, “a host of eccentricities and extremely odd behaviors can be overlooked.”
“Well, there is no doubt but that what some might call madness has been passed off as merely eccentric behavior,” she said. “A tendency toward cold-blooded murder, however, can hardly be labeled an eccentricity.”
“Such a tendency cannot be called insanity, either.”
“What would you call it?”
“Evil.”
Memories of her brief moments in the carriage with the human predator swept through Amity’s mind. She was aware of a tightness in her chest. She reminded herself to breathe. Instinctively she touched the tessen. She could take care of herself. Damn it, shehadtaken care of herself. She was safe now.
Except that the monster was still out there in the shadows.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Whatever the doctors might say about the state of his mental faculties, there is no doubt but that at his core the Bridegroom is evil.”
“The bastard will go on killing until he is stopped. It is the nature of the beast.” Benedict paused, frowning. “Is your sister trying to signal us, by any chance?”
Amity glanced around and saw that Humphrey Nash had joined the small group of women that included Penny. At that moment Penny caught her eye and tipped her chin ever so slightly.
Amity took a deep breath and braced herself.
“Yes,” she said. “I do believe Penny is trying to gain our attention.”
“Nash is with her.”
“So he is.”
Humphrey followed Penny’s gaze and smiled his charming smile when he saw Amity. She summoned up a polite smile in return.
“I think Nash is angling for an introduction to you,” Benedict said.
“There is no need for that,” Amity said. “Mr. Nash and I are already acquainted.”
Benedict looked as if he had more to say on the subject but he held his tongue. Taking a firm, proprietary grip on her arm, he escorted her across the room. When they reached the small group, Penny manipulated the niceties with her customary grace.
“There you are, Amity,” Penny said. She blinked. “What on earth happened to your hat?”
“My hat?” Amity reached up to touch the clever little cap. “It’s still there.”
“It has come unfastened. Never mind, we’ll deal with it later.” Penny reached up and plucked the cap from Amity’s hair. “I believe you know Mr. Nash?”
“We’ve met,” Amity said. She was proud of the cool manner in which the words came out of her mouth. Benedict’s hand tightened on her arm as if he was prepared to pull her out of Humphrey’s reach should it become necessary to do so.
“Amity, what a pleasure to see you again,” Humphrey said. His eyes warmed. “What has it been? Six years?”
