“Not at all.If anything, I thank you.”He dropped a look in her direction.“These may prove valuable in my search for the truth.”
“Having read them, I have to agree.Which is why I must ask you to use them with care.Especially after the warning you gave me yesterday.This individual you’re hunting is dangerous, Mr.Croft.I fear what he’ll do if he learns how determined you are to discover the truth.”
His lips quirked.“Your concern for my wellbeing means a great deal, Miss Carmichael.I promise to be cautious.”
* * *
Standing there, surrounded by bird chatter, Adrian tried to figure out what to make of Miss Carmichael.Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure.
Outwardly, she appeared like any young lady, yet he knew from her own admission that she contained a rebellious streak.At least if her penchant for wearing breeches while riding astride was any indication.She’d also stood up for him at the musicale, which had both surprised and impressed him.
Furthermore, she now revealed herself to be a bit of a thief, albeit one driven by a desire for justice.In this regard she was already proving to be a strong ally.
“Thank you for trusting me with the letters.”He noted the softness in her eyes and her hesitant smile.“I’m honored, but also surprised.In all honesty, I would have thought you too proper to steal something from someone else’s home.”
Her smile faltered just enough to convey a hint of concern.“I simply want the killer caught.No woman is safe until he is and we obviously can’t rely on Bow Street to get the job done.The fact that they missed the letters proves their incompetence.Which means it’s up to us.As far as I’m concerned, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep myself and my friends safe.”
He nodded.“I understand and I appreciate the faith you’re placing in me.But remember, I’ve made mistakes too.As it turns out, I was wrong about Lundquist.”
“True.But that doesn’t mean you won’t get it right in the end.The letters…they suggest Lavinia fit the killer’s profile.She was supposed to be an innocent debutante, but it would appear she was headed for ruin.There was a man in her life, one who wrote to her anonymously and with an escalating degree of…um…suggestiveness.”
“Interesting.”Adrian mulled over this detail while watching a lovebird fluff its colorful plumage.He turned to face Miss Carmichael more directly.“I saw her with Mr.Walker once.Perhaps he’s the lover who wrote her those letters.”
Miss Carmichael nodded.“It could be worth looking into.If only to discover who else might have seen them together.”
Adrian agreed.He tucked the letters into his jacket pocket and offered his arm, suggesting they should start heading back to the house.
“How are you finding your boxing lessons?”he asked as they approached the terrace.
“Productive.I already feel more confident in my ability to protect myself.”
He slowed his pace slightly to give them more time alone.“When will you be returning to Reed’s?”
“In three days.”The length of her arm brushed his as she leaned in closer.“That’s when I have my next lesson.”
“In that case I’ll see you then.”
“Looking forward to it, Mr.Croft.”Pleasure softened her voice.
Dropping a look in her direction he felt his heart squeeze in response to the warmth he found in her eyes.“Me too.”
Despite wanting to spend more time in her company, he didn’t linger when they arrived on the terrace.Eager to return home so he could study Lady Lavinia’s letters, he thanked Harlowe for his hospitality and took his leave.
Catching the killer wasn’t just about avenging Evie’s death.Not anymore.It was also about ensuring Samantha Carmichael’s safety.
28
Muscles straining, Samantha pulled herself onto the roof and broke into an immediate run, racing along the flat ridge until she reached the opposite end.Her foot met the edge, allowing her to push off and jump toward the next building.
Knees bent, she landed with a soft thud and vaulted over a pair of chimney stacks before continuing onward to her destination – a spot directly across from Number 5 Portman Square.
Perched there, she pulled a spyglass from her jacket’s inside pocket and settled onto her belly.The rooms visible from this angle were few in number.A parlor, a study, two bedchambers upstairs, and the staff quarters on the top floor.
She focused on the study first.Judging from what little she was able to see, it wasn’t much different from Harlowe’s, though in her opinion the space was too bold to suit Mr.Croft.The gilded lion statue she glimpsed didn’t quite suit the man she believed him to be.
Someone entered the room and she stilled, her breath caught, until she saw it was merely a maid.The woman moved about as though clearing a few things before leaving once more.Samantha frowned, her focus on the bookcase that stood beyond the desk.
Was that where Mr.Croft kept the blackmail information he was supposed to possess?
