Peter lit a flint, held the paper to the flame, and watched it burn.Her reasoning was likely correct.An infiltration of this kind was delicate.She had to instill in Mr.Croft a desire to spend more time with her, to get to know her, and to invite her into his lair.
Sir Nigel was being unreasonable to presume such a task could be undertaken in under two weeks.With this in mind, he wrote a one-page report explaining as much to his superior and prayed the man would be willing to show some patience.
Once this was done, Kendrick gave his attention to the four files he’d placed on his desk that morning, before his meeting with Sir Nigel distracted him from his investigations.
The unsolved murder cases plagued him, keeping him from his sleep most nights.It bothered him to no end that he’d not yet captured the scoundrel responsible.Worse was the fact that his leads continued to fall apart.It felt as though he were reaching into a fog, hoping to come up with answers.
Disheartened, he grabbed for Miss Fairchild’s file and flipped it open.Without a substantial trail to follow it seemed foolhardy to keeping pushing ahead.Instead, it might be wiser to start again, at the beginning.
So he read the detailed notes he’d made of the crime scene, only to realize the information invariably led to the same conclusions he’d arrived at before.And until that changed, there was a very good chance additional murders would follow.
* * *
The upper-class gentleman stared out of his bedchamber window, his gaze on the recently planted apple tree in the garden below.As distasteful as it was, encouraging a murderer to target a lovely young woman, it had been necessary in determining Mr.Croft’s future.
He’d wanted to wash himself clean of his forefathers’ sins, turn his back on the influence they’d acquired, in order to what?Live an ordinary life without impact?
That would not do.
Balance had to be maintained.
Without the Crofts around to punish those who stepped out of line, vermin would rise.It had happened before, in 1753 when Mr.Croft’s great-grandfather died while his son was abroad.Heinous crimes had occurred until he returned home, took up the reins, and unleashed his wrath.
That could not happen again.
People might not realize it, but the safety of every London citizen depended on the Croft family’s existence.They were the top predators in the criminal world and far more capable of keeping other criminals in check than any constable, magistrate, or judge.Only fools failed to recognize Mr.Croft’s importance.
But at least now, with Mr.Croft set on catching the man who’d murdered four women, there was finally a glimmer of hope that justice would soon be served.Not in a court of law, but in the manner in which such a vile person deserved.
* * *
Dorian stood a few steps behind Samantha and watched as she raised her right arm, took aim, and fired.The small square board she’d hung from a tree fifty yards away danced side to side as the shot made impact.
“Dead center,” Dorian said, checking the result through his spyglass.He lowered the instrument and handed it to her.
She nodded with satisfaction, reloaded the pistol, and held it toward him.“I want you to host a ball here at Clearview.An event on our terms where we’re in control of every detail.”
“You want to manage Mr.Croft’s experience with you.”A clever notion.
“I’ll invite him for a private tour of the house, allow him to feel like I’m letting him into my private domain – a place reserved for the closest of friends.”
“An excellent plan.I’ll see to it that invitations are sent out.”He made his attempt, not the least bit surprised by his inferior skill.Samantha had started exceeding his capability years ago, and had since taken care to maintain her high standard.He huffed a breath when he saw that he’d struck the target some inches above the center.
A few more rounds followed, his pride increasing with each successful attempt Samantha made.Although he’d seen her do this a thousand times, her constant accuracy never ceased to amaze him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask a favor of you as well,” he said while they packed up ten minutes later.
She straightened, hands on hips, and gave him a serious, no nonsense look.“Name it.Lord knows I could never repay you for all you have done for me even if I were given a lifetime.”
“It was never my intention for you to feel indebted.”He took her hand and gave it a squeeze – a rare gesture of fondness.“Whatever reason I had for initially taking you in, I want you to know that I always thought of you and the other girls as my daughters.”
A faint smile pulled at her lips and for a brief second her eyes seemed to glisten.She quickly buried the emotion behind an inscrutable expression, leaving Dorian to wonder if he might have trained hertoowell.
“Promise me you’ll let me know if you’re ever out of your depth.This mission you’re on is far from simple, so if there are elements you wish to discuss, any doubts you may have or concerns, I want you to come to me for support.”
Samantha grabbed the case containing the pistols and held it firmly in her hand.“You needn’t worry.While I will admit to Mr.Croft being a far more challenging target than I had expected, I’ll gain his confidence eventually.It’s just a matter of time.”
Turning, she headed toward the house.As usual, her pace was quick and decisive.Dorian fell into step beside her, then lengthened his stride so he could keep up.
