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Q uickening her pace to keep up with Adrian’s longer strides, Samantha followed him into the hospital that stood at Hyde Park corner. When she’d come here last, it had been to visit Isak after saving him from the horrid fate he and a few other children had been subjected to.

The recollection sent a shiver down her spine. In her opinion anyone cruel enough to hurt a child deserved to pay. She’d no regrets about the punishment she and Adrian had delivered to those responsible.

Only Wycliff, the crime-lord in charge, had escaped their wrath. But only because he’d been dealt with by someone else. Possibly by the Duke of Wrengate, if their suspicions were correct.

Heels clicking against the stone floor, Samantha stuck close to Adrian’s side as he went to inquire after Mr. Booker’s location.

“He’s one floor up,” said Mrs. Burns, the nurse on duty. Samantha recognized her from some of her previous visits and knew she was also well-acquainted with Adrian, who had a long-standing relationship with the hospital as a whole. “I’m sure Doctor Ashburry would be happy to show you up.”

Samantha looked at the man the nurse gestured toward, a handsome fellow who appeared to be past his fiftieth year. Lean of build, he wore a lopsided smile as he came toward them.

“Mr. Croft,” said the physician. “I’ve not seen you here in a while.”

Adrian stuck out his hand and shook the one Doctor Ashburry offered. “Not since you set my valet’s broken arm a couple of years ago. The last time I stopped by, Doctor Moore was on duty.”

“He’s not here today, but I’m happy to help with whatever you need.”

The nurse informed Ashburry of Adrian and Samantha’s reason for coming, upon which he led them toward the stairs that would take them to the wing where Mr. Booker was recuperating.

“If possible, we’d also like to speak with the nurse and physician who attended him when he was first brought in,” Adrian said while they walked.

“Certainly. I’ll get that information to you as soon as we’ve located Mr. Booker.”

Ashburry was just as agreeable as the rest of the employees Samantha had encountered here.

She’d always wondered if this was their general attitude or if it was how they behaved when Adrian and those associated with him made requests.

The donations he had provided probably helped ensure a certain level of service.

They turned left at the top of the stairs and proceeded through a pair of double doors, then down a short hallway, toward a door that led into a long room.

It looked very similar to the room in which Isak had spent time while he’d been here.

Ten beds filled it. Five lined either side, providing a path straight down the middle for medical staff to walk.

“That’s odd,” Ashburry muttered as he approached an unoccupied bed that stood at the end of the row to the right. He glanced around, a confused look in his eyes. “Mr. Booker was supposed to be here.”

Samantha stared at the empty bed. “Could he have wandered off on his own?”

“I don’t believe his condition would let him do so. Allow me to check with one of the nurses attending this floor. I’ll just be a moment.” He walked off, leaving Adrian and Samantha alone with nine patients.

Samantha assessed each one in turn, saw that Adrian did the same, and chose to approach an older man who appeared to be watching them intently.

“I apologize for disturbing you,” she said, “but I wonder if you might be able to tell us about the man who’s supposed to be lying in that bed over there. Did you see him get up and leave?”

“No, but I did see a couple of orderlies come and fetch him about ten minutes ago.”

Unsure what this information suggested regarding Mr. Booker, Samantha asked, “Was there any indication as to what they wanted with him?”

The old man stared at her. “Besides sending him off to the mortuary?”

A sick feeling settled deep in Samantha’s stomach. “The mortuary?”

“That tends to be where dead folk wind up,” the old man explained as though she were daft.

“I see.” She turned to Adrian and noted the stricken look on his face even as she said, “I don’t think Mr. Booker will be able to help us.”

* * *

Adrian stepped up to the table on which Mr. Booker lay. Sure enough, he had been found in an unresponsive state half an hour before Samantha and Adrian’s arrival at St. George’s.

“I’d like to examine him,” Adrian told Ashburry. The physician had shown him and Samantha to the morgue after collecting Mr. Booker’s medical record, which he’d reviewed for them on their way here.

“Maybe we should check with Doctor Fellowes,” Ashburry suggested. “This is his domain.”

“He’ll agree to it,” Adrian said. “But if it eases your mind, do ask.”

As expected, Fellowes didn’t protest. He even agreed to let Adrian start without him since he was otherwise occupied.

“Are you looking for something particular?” Ashburry asked once the sheet draped over Mr. Booker’s body had been removed.

“Evidence of foul play,” Adrian muttered while pushing back the loosely fitted sleeve of the hospital-issued nightshirt. Red marks marred the skin on Mr. Booker’s wrists, though they weren’t anywhere near as pronounced as they had been on Miss Griffin.

Perhaps Mr. Booker had been more at ease?

Adrian pondered this possibility. Mr. Booker was young. Most likely in his early twenties. The musculature in his arms and torso suggested he’d been physically strong. It was unlikely he’d been overpowered and restrained, as Adrian believed might have been the case with Miss Griffin.

He also wasn’t prepared to profess an irrefutable connection between the two cases. More information would be required in order to do so. He would therefore do his best to examine the evidence available to him without bias.

“You said the medical notes made a mention of his having undergone surgery prior to his admittance here?” Adrian glanced at Ashburry.

The physician peered at the paper he held. “An incision to the lower right side of his abdomen. Doctor Lawrence has noted that the location is compatible with the removal of Mr. Booker’s appendix.”

“And what’s your opinion?” Samantha asked. Having circled the table on which Mr. Booker lay, she stood opposite the men, brow puckered while she examined the corpse with her sharp gaze.

“I…um…I’d have to take a closer look,” Ashburry said.

Adrian shifted sideways, granting the man additional space. He gestured toward Mr. Booker’s body. “By all means.”

Ashburry cleared his throat, then scratched the back of his neck before sending a hesitant look in Samantha’s direction. “He’s only wearing a hospital gown.”

Adrian snorted. The thought of his wife taking issue with what she would see – the fact that Ashburry worried for her sensibilities – was rather amusing.

Samantha was made of stronger stuff and highly capable of dismissing a man’s private bits when it came to searching for clues.

Still, he was aware of how rare this was.

He also accepted that most people would think it inappropriate for a woman to study a naked man for any reason, regardless of her marital state.

He therefore suggested Samantha turn away while he and Ashburry took a closer look.

As expected, she huffed a breath and looked very disgruntled.

But when Ashburry made no move to proceed until she averted her gaze, she gave them her back with a muttered complaint so imaginative the good doctor’s eyes bulged.

“If you will,” Adrian told him before he could change his mind and order them both to leave.

Ashburry pressed his lips together, a scowl forming on his brow even as he pulled Mr. Booker’s nightshirt up past his navel. A bright red wound, neatly stitched together, came into view.

“The placement does align with the appendix,” Ashburry said, “but a proper autopsy would have to be conducted in order to be certain it was removed.”

“How long will that take?” Samantha asked, her back still turned.

“You’d have to check with Doctor Fellowes,” Ashburry said. “Of course, this also brings up the question of whether or not an autopsy will be done on the body.”

Samantha spun to face Ashburry, outrage brewing in her blue gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

When Ashburry gaped at her, she glanced at Adrian, then at Mr. Booker, and finally back at Ashburry, upon which she rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake.” She grabbed the sheet with which the body had been concealed and placed it over Mr. Booker’s groin. “Satisfied?”

Ashburry gave her a chastising look which she brushed off by raising her eyebrows. “Well?”

Intent on lending his support, Adrian sent the doctor an equally expectant look, in response to which he sighed before saying, “The surgery wasn’t carried out here, meaning there’s no need for us to discern if we made a mistake.”

Adrian tilted his head. “What if I were to tell you there’s a good chance Mr. Booker was murdered?”

Ashburry seemed to reflect on that question while running one finger along the wound. “I don’t follow your logic, Mr. Croft. These stitches were made by an expert, and the appendix is not a vital organ. If anything, removing it if it were about to rupture may have saved Mr. Booker’s life.”

“Then why did he die?” Samantha asked.

Instead of answering, Ashburry returned his attention to the medical notes.

“There’s no mention of a fever, as would have been the case with signs of infection.

The wound is also described as neat. Non-festering.

While the pulse was weak at only fifty-five beats per minute, it was steady.

” He read the next part out loud. “The patient, though mostly unconscious, appears to be in recovery.”

“And yet he suddenly died, only two hours after arriving here,” Adrian pointed out.

Ashburry nodded. “These things do happen. If he suffered from another ailment, for instance, he might not have been as strong as he appeared. Undergoing surgery could, in such a case, have put too much strain on his heart.”

“Is that something Doctor Fellowes can figure out?” Adrian asked.

“Most likely, provided he’s given good reason to do so,” Ashburry said.

“Good reason?” Adrian stared at the doctor in disbelief. “I would say that everything we have learned thus far is more than enough. The cause of Mr. Booker’s death has yet to be determined.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll cover the expense, if that’s the issue.” Adrian gave Ashburry a hard look, forcing him to back up a step.

“Of course,” Ashburry said. “I’ll be sure to inform the administration.”

“In the meantime…” Adrian’s attention shifted toward the pile of clothes that were placed between Mr. Booker’s feet. He grabbed the trousers and started checking the pockets while Samantha picked up the jacket.

Finding only a handkerchief and some coins, Adrian refolded the trousers and observed his wife. She set aside each item she found: a pencil, a button, and a torn piece of paper containing what looked like a shopping list.

Adrian’s hope of recovering something helpful evaporated. He threw a glance over his shoulder toward the room where Fellowes worked and prepared to go speak with him.

“Looks like we know where to go from here,” Samantha said, her voice thoughtful.

Adrian sent her a quizzical glance and spotted the card she was holding toward him. He took it and read the name and address printed upon it. Doctor Islington. Number 1 Newburgh Street. Adrian’s pulse leapt with renewed enthusiasm.

He turned to Ashburry, whose lips had parted as though in surprise. “I’ll need those names you promised me earlier of any personnel who interacted with Mr. Booker after he arrived here. Have it delivered to my home at Number 5 Portman Square as soon as you’re able, please.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ashburry said.

Adrian gave him a tight smile. “In that case, I’m sure you’ll succeed. Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

He left the room with Samantha and approached Doctor Fellowes. “I believe Mr. Booker in there met a nefarious end. Please make sure he receives your full attention.”

“Of course, Mr. Croft. If there’s even the slightest hint of wrongdoing, I’ll inform you.”

Adrian thanked him and steered Samantha toward the exit.

As soon as they returned home, he’d pen a note to Fellowes’s assistant, Simmons, who also happened to be a Croft associate.

He’d cleaned up many of the family’s messes in the past and would be sure to keep a watchful eye on what went on at the morgue.

For although Adrian had a high opinion of Fellowes, experience warned him not to trust any physician until he figured out who was responsible for the deaths of these patients.