“His practice was a mess.It showed evidence of a hasty departure, which there would have been no cause for if he wasn’t tied to all this.”
“He referred several patients to me after I suggested offering surgeries on the side to those who couldn’t afford St.George’s.He liked the idea of helping people.He just wasn’t willing to make the necessary sacrifices.”
“But he’s your brother, is he not?”Adrian asked Mrs.Lester.
Mrs.Lester shrugged.“Some things are more important than family ties.Perfecting this procedure is one of those things.I wasn’t going to let him stand in our way, brother or not.”
Disgust settled deep in Samantha’s stomach.“You’re demented.Both of you.”She pointed an accusing finger at Ashburry.“You’re not even a surgeon.”
Ashburry swung a condemning look toward her.“Careful, Mrs.Croft.I don’t take kindly to being insulted.”
“You weren’t helping people.You were killing them.”
“How shortsighted of you,” he muttered.
“We thought it best to sacrifice a few in order to save the many,” Mrs.Lester said.“Wentworth came close with his experimentations.The clever man did get the dosage right once.Removed a kidney from a pig while it slept.The beast woke up an hour after Wentworth closed the incision.”
“He made no mention of that to us,” Adrian said.
“Of course not.”Mrs.Lester’s voice was suddenly filled with warmth.“He’s very modest.I didn’t know of his success until I read his notes.”
Dear Lord.
“Of course, the dosage for a pig is different than it is for a human,” Ashburry said, filling a small glass with some sort of liquid.“While we didn’t have to start from the absolute beginning, it did take a moment to work out the quantities of the various ingredients.”
He crossed to where Adrian stood.“Drink this.”
“I’ll rot in hell first,” Adrian told him, and swiped the glass from the bastard’s hand.
* * *
“Stay here,” Peter told Miss Hastings when the carriage pulled up in front of the Lesters’ home.She’d chatted away for most of their journey, filling him in on everything Wentworth and Melroy had told the Crofts.
The tension pulling at every muscle had only increased with each word she’d spoken.If the Lesters were indeed the killers they sought, as appeared to be the case, and the Crofts had gone after them, he feared he’d have quite the mess on his hands.No way they would let either one walk away from this alive.
Explanations would have to be made.For starters, he’d have to stand to account.Again.He muttered a curse and met Miss Hastings’s gaze squarely.“Promise me you won’t follow us inside.”
“I promise.”
“I mean it, Miss Hastings.There could be trouble waiting for us, in which case our safety will be compromised if we have to worry about protecting you.Do you understand?”
“Yes.I’ll remain in the carriage.”
Satisfied he had her convinced, he reached for the door handle, only to pause when her hand settled over his forearm.A far too personal touch, especially given the fact that they weren’t alone.
A shiver raced up his arm from the point of contact.Suppressing it to the best of his ability, he glanced toward her, saw the lines creasing her brow, the brackets on either side of her mouth.
“Be careful,” she said, then withdrew her hand and sat back, her posture rigid.
He gave a firm nod, then pushed the door open and stepped down onto the pavement.Jackson, Lewis, and Anderson followed.
“Weapons at the ready,” Peter told them.He pulled his own pistol from his jacket pocket and climbed the steps leading to Number 12 Millman Street.
The unlocked door opened with ease, admitting them to a foyer shrouded in darkness.Pausing briefly to listen, he heard no immediate sounds.
He turned to his Runners.“Lewis and Anderson, you search the upstairs while—”
A scream cut him off, scattering every thought in his head as he raced for the door leading to the basement.
