He’d not be so careless, surely.
She slid the spyglass higher, over the bedchamber to the right and then across the white brick façade to the left.Her pulse leapt and she nearly sprang from her spot when Mr.Croft’s magnified face came into view.
Recalling the distance between him and the vantage point from which she watched, she blew out a slow breath and gave him her full attention.He was already turning away, his hands yanking his shirt and…
Aware that he was undressing, she started to lower the spy-glass, only to still when a welt traversing his back caught her gaze.It wasn’t the only one.More came into view as he pulled the shirt over his head.Her heart froze in response to the awful sight.Hundreds of lines were embedded upon his flesh, some more pronounced than others.
She dropped the spyglass and swallowed against the sick feeling that gripped her.
Who had done this?
What kind of monster had tortured him so?
If she ever found out, she’d drag the bastard into the darkest hole she could find and whip him as soundly as he had whipped Croft.Good God, she was so spitting mad on his behalf, she wished she had someone to fight as an outlet for some of the rage.
Closing her eyes briefly, she reminded herself that whatever had happened to him in the past was not her concern.She should not care.Couldn’t afford to.
So she shoved the spyglass back into her pocket and headed back to the room she’d rented.It took her less than half an hour to arrive on the sloped roof.Without pausing, she slid to the eve, grabbed the drainpipe, and dropped down to the open window below.
In one fluid motion she swung herself into the space where she came to collect her thoughts, poured herself a large glass of water, and drank.She couldn’t afford to lose focus because of some ugly scars.
She shook her head, forced herself to reflect on yesterday’s conversation with Croft.His expression had been guarded when she’d confided stealing the letters.
Maybe giving them to him had been a mistake.
Sneaking into a dead woman’s bedroom and riffling through her belongings wasn’t exactly the sort of behavior one would expect from a respectable young lady, but rather from a trained operative on a mission.
Stupid.
She drank some more water, then set the glass aside.If he took the time to think about it, he’d surely suspect her of being up to something.
A telltale knock at the door alerted her to Isak’s arrival.She let the boy in and offered him part of the minced meat pie she’d purchased for herself earlier.
He took it and handed her the letter he’d brought before shoving the pie in his mouth.
Samantha tore the seal Kendrick used and unfolded the paper, frowning as she read the message.
Meet me at St.Mary’s Church tonight.Your progress is unsatisfactory.We need to talk.
She crumpled the paper and shoved it into her pocket.The chief constable’s impatience was beyond frustrating.Sighing, she trudged to a rickety wooden table and pulled out a chair.She was aware of the strain the man was under.According to Harlowe, Lundquist was pressuring Bow Street, insisting they meet with results soon.And he wasn’t alone, having enlisted Moorland’s and Eldridge’s support.Not easy, facing the criticism of a marquess and two dukes.
She also realized she ought to have been much closer to Mr.Croft by now.Her assignment was dragging on, taking longer than expected.Although to be fair, she could have warned Kendrick it would be like this if she’d met Croft before she received her assignment.
“Is everything all right?”Isak asked, chewing his food.
“Yes.”Samantha retrieved her writing supplies and proceeded to pen her response, the tip of her quill scratching against the paper with each stroke she made.
I’ll be there.Make sure you’re not followed.
Meeting in person was dangerous, so it was with serious unease that she sealed her message and handed it back to Isak for delivery.
“There’s something else,” he said, a cagy look about his eyes.
A cool sliver of foreboding lodged itself at the base of Samantha’s spine.“What is it?”
He raised his chin, eyes too old for a boy his age meeting hers.“Wycliffe wants to collect the debt you owe.You’re to meet him tomorrow evening, ten o’clock at Seven Dials.A disguise is recommended.”
She dared not wonder why.“And if I don’t show?”
