Peter Kendrick was well past the point of exhaustion.He’d barely slept since the fire, and what little rest he’d managed to get had been found in his chair.There was simply too much work to take care of.He’d had no choice but to interview every person who’d watched Croft House burn — anyone who might have witnessed what happened.How it all began.
This had taken an eternity, even with Gabriella’s help.
She’d been magnificent.A priceless asset during a difficult night.
He glanced across at the cot he’d told Anderson and Lewis to set up in his office.Gabriella had refused to use it at first.If Peter wasn’t going to rest, then neither would she.Until he’d suggested she lie down for only ten minutes — that he’d do the same afterward.This had been roughly five hours ago, a little after six in the morning.
A smile pulled at his lips as he watched her sleep.So quiet and peaceful, her features softened by slumber.Entirely different from the spirited bossiness she so often gave way to when she disagreed with someone else’s opinion.Mostly his, of course.
Yet despite this aspect of her personality, Peter could honestly say that he’d never been happier.Marrying her was by far the best decision he’d ever made.And somehow, they managed to make their differences work.In a way, these added color to their relationship.Perhaps because when they argued, they did so with the utmost respect for each other.
He yawned and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
The reports he’d been writing remained half-finished.Once complete, he’d have to head back to Portman Square and assess the scene in the light of day.This would lead to yet another report, beyond which there were other crimes for him to deal with, starting with Lady Edwina’s continued disappearance and the violent deaths that happened a few evenings ago at The Albion Hotel.
One would think that figuring out what occurred there would be straightforward, yet finding witnesses was proving a chore.So was identifying the body of one of the victims.
When he’d asked Croft about it the day before last, he’d said he knew nothing about it.Although he’d sounded convincing, Peter wasn’t sure he believed him.The level of violence that greeted him at the scene had Croft’s signature all over it.
Especially when combined with the fact that Croft was actively trying to find Wrengate’s sister.
But why would she remain missing if Croft had spirited her away from her abductors?Why would she not have returned home yet?
Peter expelled a weary sigh and scratched the back of his head.
He’d get back to that later.
As of right now, he intended to find some breakfast for when Gabriella woke.The bakery down the street would have warm pies ready for luncheon at this hour.He’d purchase a few, then prepare a fresh pot of coffee for himself as well as some tea for her.
He pushed himself upright and stretched, then threw on his jacket and headed toward the door.
No sooner had he opened it than he spotted Gordon, the most inexperienced of his Runners, and Croft.Gordon’s fist was raised as though he’d been ready to knock.
“Forgive me, Mr.Kendrick but—”
Peter set his index finger over his lips as a sign for him to be quiet, then waved both men back and pulled the door shut.
“My wife is sleeping in there,” he explained, keeping his voice low.“I’d rather not wake her yet.It’s been a long night.”
“Indeed it has,” Croft agreed.He glanced along the length of the corridor.“Is there another room in which we can talk?”
“I was actually on my way to the bakery,” Peter said.“Why don’t you accompany me?”To Gordon he said, “I’m still waiting for The Globe’s preliminary report on the fire.If you could please follow up on that, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, sir.I’ll see to it right away.”Gordon hurried off, and Peter started toward the front of the building with Croft at his side.
“As I mentioned last night, I’m terribly sorry this happened to you,” Peter said as they exited the building.“I can’t even fathom your loss.”
So many memories destroyed.Over seventy years’ worth of family history turned to ash.According to the property records Peter had reviewed, the home was built in 1748.
“It still feels so unreal,” Croft said.“Even after seeing what is left of my house earlier today, I almost expect to find it untouched when I return to Portman Square later.”
Like waiting for a loved one to walk through the door after they’d died.
“I trust you’re staying with Marsdale for the time being?”Peter could already smell the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread.His stomach clenched in anticipation.
“Yes.He’s been very hospitable.”They walked another few paces.“I did not come here to exchange such inane information with you, however.”
Peter sent Croft a sidelong glance.“Do you finally wish to tell me what happened at The Albion?”
