“I don’t know, but I’m planning to interview Orendel’s family tomorrow. If I’m lucky, I’ll learn something more while I’m there.” He collected his notebook, which he’d left inside his desk drawer. Opening it, he then placed it on the desk in front of Samantha. “There’s also this list of Lady Eleanor’s circle. Orendel put it together for me. I’m not sure how complete it is, but it’s something for us to consider.”
Samantha perused it. “Most of these are women, but I suppose they might be privy to information LadyEleanor may not have shared with anyone else. Her fiancé…” She tapped her finger against Mr. Benjamin Lawrence’s name. “If I recall, he was maimed in a riding accident a few months ago, yet neither side has broken off the engagement.”
“To do so would have resulted in scandal, regardless of the circumstances.”
“There would have been an undeniable stain on Lady Eleanor’s reputation if she’d been the one to end the betrothal. She’d have looked like a heartless, uncaring, shrew. But I think it would have been natural for her to have had some doubts, and with Mr. Lawrence absent from Society for so long, it’s possible somebody else had a chance to make an impression. Maybe promises were made and…I don’t know…I’m just thinking out loud here.”
“It’s as good a theory as any. The would-be suitor who finds himself enraged when he learns that the woman he wants will never choose him because of what that would entail.” Adrian turned to look out the window. “It all depends on her feelings for Mr. Lawrence. Maybe she actually loved him, in which case something else is at play here. What I simply don’t get are the eyes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Hmm?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and saw her puzzled expression. “Oh. I may have neglected to mention, the killer removed Lady Eleanor’s eyes.”
Samantha stared at him, the same horror he’dexperienced materializing on her face. “You can’t be serious.”
“Very much so, I’m afraid.”
“But that’s…that’s…barbaric.” She pushed herself upright and started to pace in agitation. It looked like she was in a great hurry to reach an imaginary destination. Until she stopped short, skirts swirling around her legs. A hint of panic flashed in her gaze. “You realize this isn’t a person you’re chasing.”
He forced a laugh to lighten the mood. “Is this where you tell me monsters are real?”
“You know they are.” She gave him a hard look, so piercing he had no choice but to nod in agreement. “Whoever did what you’ve just described is capable of anything, Adrian. I won’t let you face him alone. It’s too risky.”
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“You’ll take me with you wherever you go.”
It was his turn to stare at her. “I hardly think—”
“He probably already knows you’re attempting to sniff him out, which makes you a target.”
Fair point. “I’ll have Murry accompany me on my investigative outings from now on.”
“I’m coming too,” she repeated.
“The hell you are.” Frustration pushed between his shoulder blades. “You were shot trying to save me last time.”
“Yet here I am, alive and well. Had I not been there that night, you would most likely be dead. I’m coming with you, no matter what.”
“Samantha—”
“You can either agree or let me shadow you from a distance. Your choice.”
Stubborn female. He growled at her in annoyance but she merely arched a brow. “Fine.”
“And don’t even think about trying to lock me away in a room somewhere. I’ll just get out and beat you senseless.”
His pulse spiked. “I might enjoy that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Annoying man.”
Grinning, he poured himself a brandy, then shared the details regarding his meeting with Wycliff. When he was done, he noted her grave expression and quickly suggested, “Let’s visit the theatre tonight. It’s been a while since you and I enjoyed a diversion.”
Her expression softened. She relaxed, her body melting against him as he pulled her into his arms. There was still a good deal of work to be done today. He had to prepare a list of questions for his visit to Orendel House tomorrow.
But first he was going to stand here and simply enjoy kissing his wife.
Comfortably seated in anticipation of that night’s performance, the gentleman surveyed the Theatre Royal with interest. Guests were filing inside with greater frequency now. Soon the lights would bedimmed and Beethoven’s fourth piano concerto would start.
