“Thank you. I…appreciate your thoroughness.”
It was no less than what he’d applied when trying to root out his sister’s killer. Unfortunately, this had also taught him that even the most glaring clue might lead them nowhere. And even if it did, there was a chance twenty men or more might possess a dagger exactly like this one. Figuring out which one had motive and opportunity would be time consuming.
But that didn’t make it impossible.
Returning the dagger to where he had found it, he told Orendel to show it to Kendrick when he returned.
“There’s one more thing,” Adrian told the earl before taking his leave. He paused for a second, aware of the impact his next words would have, before saying, “I’ll need to take a look at your daughter’s body.”
Orendel flinched. He drew a ragged breath, his gaze flickering with a distinct lack of focus. “As I’ve mentioned, the…um…coroner came to collect her. I’ve been told he wished to examine her, to aid in Bow Street’s investigation.”
“Naturally. His findings may serve us as well. But I’d still like to make my own observations. If you can arrange a viewing and let me know the day and hour, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Orendel’s voice had weakened to a frail thread. “I’ll do what I can.”
Adrian thanked him, repeated his condolences, and took his leave.
When he’d been in this terrible situation himself, Samantha had come to his aid and he’d been grateful. Her help and support had been undeniable, but he’d since wondered if it had been real or merely a way for her to get closer to him.
His chest tightened around his heart like a trap clamping down on its prey. He would have liked to discuss this case with her now, if only he were able to trust her. It angered him that he couldn’t. She was his bloody wife, yet he had no choice but to keep up his guard around her so she would have less information to sell.
Frustrated, he arrived home with every intention of making excuses so he wouldn’t have to spend additional time in her company. Only to find her absent, with Elks informing him darkly that Murry was on her tail.
4
Samantha made her way through the Mayfair streets at a moderate pace so anyone who might recognize her would conclude she was out for a stroll. It would be an easy assumption to make in light of the sunny weather.
She crossed King Street to where a series of shops caught her interest. With plenty of time to spare, she paused to admire the display in one of the windows. The shop belonged to a milliner whose craftsmanship was exemplary. Expensive, she supposed, but nothing she couldn’t afford with the huge allowance provided to her by her husband.
Her thoughts of him pierced her heart. The rift caused by yesterday’s argument hadn’t been mended. He’d retired after her last night, choosing to sleep in one of the guest chambers rather than by her side. Amessage no doubt intended to underscore his annoyance, though her reflection upon the matter this morning had left her baffled. She still believed his response to what she had said was completely out of proportion.
Which made her worry it might have nothing to do with the marriage bed and that something else was to blame. The question, of course, was what.
She’d have to deal with one problem at a time. For now, there was Isak, the boy she’d hired to serve as a messenger while she’d been working with Kendrick. The request she’d received from him that morning when she’d ridden through Hyde Park and a flower girl had approached her insisted she meet with him today.
So she turned down the alley that ran between King Street and Pall Mall, then stepped beneath an archway that led toward an abandoned courtyard. Back pressed against the stone wall, she stood there for a good ten minutes before Isak joined her.
She’d planned to scold him for making her risk being seen with him and then for making her wait, but the angry words died on her lips when she saw his bruised face. The skin around one of his eyes had had turned a deep purple. Blue and yellow tones were found elsewhere on his cheeks and his brow. Fresh scabs sealed the cuts he’d received to his brow and his lips, and his nose was set at a crooked angle.
It hadn’t registered until now, when she truly looked at him, that he’d been limping as he’d approached. Herjaw tightened, teeth pressing together so hard they might shatter. “Who did this to you?”
She’d skin them alive.
Eyes that had seen more than most children ought stared back at her without blinking. “Wycliff.”
Air hissed down her throat. She’d instinctively pegged the blackguard as unforgiving and callous when she’d sought his help. After all, he ran a criminal enterprise out of St. Giles, where he lorded over a crew of thieves and informants. Of course he wasn’t the sort of man one invited out to tea. And if there had been any doubt, it vanished when he’d made good on the debt she’d owed him, forcing her into a situation where she’d had no choice but to kill two men.
But to beat a child without mercy…
“Why?” Nothing she could think of could possibly justify this.
“I told him I’d like to try for a proper job. Working for you made me think, see. ’Twas nice doing something honest for once.”
Her eyebrows rose. She supposed it depended on how one defined ‘honest’. Spying on Croft and carrying secret messages back and forth between her and Kendrick probably skimmed the line. Still, she appreciated the boy’s willingness to make a better life for himself than what Wycliff offered.
“And he responded with violence?” She balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms with such force she’d have broken the skin if they’d been any sharper.
“He made an example of me. In case anyone else got the same idea.” Isak shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on his right leg. “That’s why I wanted to meet, ’cause I need your help getting out from under his thumb.”
