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“Then your purchase records for cards printed using this font should be limited. Yes?” A bit of hope after learning the writing sample Samantha had pilfered from Wrengate’s house would bring them no closer to learning if he’d been behind the anonymous letter.

Due to its being a list, the duke had used a casual print-script that failed to match the formal lettering used in the missive.

It left them at a blockade of sorts and a wasted effort on Samantha’s part.

The best Adrian could do was remind her that they had more important matters to deal with than Wrengate.

A murderer had to be stopped before he picked his next victim.

Nevertheless, Adrian had promised to have a word with Murdoch to see if one of his contacts might provide a better sample of the duke’s writing.

Mr. Sullivan pushed the card across the counter to Adrian. “I really can’t say.”

It was the same situation Adrian had encountered months earlier when he’d requested customer information at one of London’s most exclusive tailors. Threats had been required. A tactic he always preferred to avoid when possible and the very reason he’d asked Kendrick to vouch for him.

Adrian reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper which he showed to Mr. Sullivan.

“I’m collaborating with Bow Street on a murder investigation.

The chief constable signed the approval himself.

Whatever you share with me will aid the authorities in their hunt for a sinister killer. ”

Mr. Sullivan paled in response to that realization. “I see.”

“Learning who this card belonged to could provide a vital clue as to who this monster is.”

“O…of course.” Mr. Sullivan picked another folder from the shelf and flipped it open.

“With no idea when the card was ordered or anything else to go on besides the card stock and the font, providing a list of people who requested both will take a while. Perhaps you’d like to come back in a couple of hours? ”

“I’ll wait. In fact, I’m happy to help review your purchase orders.”

Mr. Sullivan answered with a weak smile and pushed the folder toward him, then went to collect another. It took nearly three hours for them to review all the records, which went back more than a decade.

Eventually, however, Adrian left the print shop with a list containing fourteen names. All he had to do now was cross-reference the list with medical professionals.

This wouldn’t necessarily lead him to the killer, but he suspected it would tell him who else was involved in Mr. Booker’s surgery and subsequent death. There was a reason the physician had tried to destroy the card before vanishing into thin air.

* * *

Edward did his best to distract himself from his thoughts. Despite his best efforts, he’d failed to dismiss his mother’s suggestion to have Lady Heathbrooke visit. Instinct told him it was a bad idea, which was why he’d asked his mother not to issue an invitation.

Yet as time went by, he came no closer to forgetting Miss Roberts. Quite the opposite. And the more he thought of her, the more his mother’s suggestion clamored for attention. Until he’d finally written to Lady Heathbrooke himself.

That was several days ago. He’d yet to hear back.

So he busied himself with estate matters and tried not to wonder what her response would be. Time dragged on. Or so it felt. He considered writing Miss Roberts directly, only to change his mind after penning the first few words.

My Dearest Miss Roberts,

He scrunched the paper into a ball and tossed it in the bin. What was he doing? None of what needed saying should go into a letter. It ought to be said in person, discussed through conversation so they could come to a clear understanding.

A knock at the door preceded the butler’s arrival. “A letter for you, my lord. From Lady Heathbrooke.”

Edward shot out of his chair, nearly hitting his thighs against the desk in the process. He paused, cleared his throat, and attempted to regain his composure. Spine stiff, he extended his hand and retrieved the missive from the silver salver the butler held.

“Thank you.” Pulse racing, he waited with mounting impatience for the butler to leave.

The door clicked shut and Edward tore the seal, unfolded the crisp piece of foolscap, and then…

He frowned as he read the words. His pulse slowed, weakening his legs until he was forced to regain his seat. He shook his head. No . His gaze darted back to the top of the page, to the date. This was written four days ago.

Edward slumped against his chair, his heart a tangled mess in his hollowed-out chest. Melody was gone, out of the country and moving farther away with each passing second. There was no indication of when she’d return.

Anger swept in where hope had once been. He clenched his jaw and fisted his hand, crumpling the letter. Interference and manipulation. That was what this was. How dare his godmother do this to him or to Miss Roberts? How dare she get between them?

She’d stolen his chance to recover from Evie, the freedom to decide his own future. Never before had he felt so betrayed, and something inside him, something harsh and unfamiliar, rose from a hidden depth.

With a roar, he swiped his arm across his desk, sending papers, books, quills, and countless other items flying. Hunched over, he gripped the edge of his desk, fingers straining against the wood while attempting to calm himself.

It was no use. Heat filled his head and his whole body trembled with lingering rage. Lady Heathbrooke had gone too far, and lord help him, he would never forgive her.

* * *

Samantha had removed herself to the library for a change of scene and was in the process of reading Glenarvon when Adrian returned. Concern darkened his eyes to near black and thin lines bracketed his mouth as he crossed to where she sat.

“Elks tells me Harlowe was here. That you met with him?”

She set her book aside and nodded. “I did.”

“And?” It looked like he wasn’t sure whether to offer comfort or reprimand her for facing her foster father alone.

In fact, she could almost hear his thoughts.

What were you thinking? How could you do that?

Have you no regard for your own safety? Instead his expression softened, almost slackening as he lowered himself to the spot beside her and took her hand in his. “How are you?”

“Better than an hour ago when he left.” The edge of her lips quirked.

She spread her fingers wide across the back of Adrian’s hand and savored the strength she found in his touch.

“We had a frank conversation, he and I. At the end of which he warned that he’d do away with both of us if word gets out of the Nightingale Project and his involvement with it. ”

Adrian’s face flushed a deep shade of red as his expression hardened. Fury flashed across his face. “I’ll make him regret threatening you.”

“Trust me, I nearly blew him to smithereens myself.” When Adrian arched a brow, she explained. “I didn’t invite him in before making sure I was properly armed. Using the pistol was tempting but it would only have led to complications.”

“And a messy cleanup,” Adrian muttered.

“Harlowe knows how to agitate me. It’s important to stay focused when dealing with him. To not let him push me into forfeiting the freedom we’ve just acquired. We mustn’t forget that those pardons were hard won. We’ll never be able to pull that off a second time.”

“Agreed. But I’d still like to kill him.”

“As would I.” She leaned toward him, turning her body in order to press a soft kiss to his cheek. The late afternoon bristle there scraped her lips. “Did you meet with success?”

“I believe so.” He retrieved the small notebook he always carried and flipped it open.

A note pertaining to Lady Eleanore’s murder last month appeared briefly before Adrian flipped to the next page.

“These are the names of the people who ordered calling cards matching the card stock and font used to create the one we pulled from Islington’s fireplace. ”

Samantha studied the names but recognized only two because they were aristocratic titles.

“And these,” Adrian said, retrieving a folded collection of papers from inside his jacket pocket, “are additional lists of names I’ve acquired from the Royal College of Physicians and the Royal College of Surgeons.

It’s a collection of licensed physicians and surgeons currently practicing in London. ”

She met his gaze with increased interest. Excitement spilled through her. “This is brilliant. If we compare these lists with the one from the print shop, we’ll likely find the calling card’s owner.”

“That’s the plan.” He left her with the notebook and the wad of papers and went to pour himself a drink. “It’s not infallible. For all we know, the card belonged to a patient and ended up getting tossed as part of the process, but it’s better than nothing.”

Samantha agreed. She started shuffling through the pages containing the list of physicians. There were eight in total and the paper appeared to be frayed along one of the long edges as if…

Samantha sent Adrian a sharp look. “Did you tear these out of a book?”

He turned, drink in hand, and shrugged one shoulder.

“Copying it would have taken too long and the book was too big to fit in my pockets. The clerk I spoke with refused to let me borrow it even after I showed him the document Kendrick prepared. Said I’d require additional permission from the chief magistrate and the master of the college, who’s currently out of Town.

I made a quick decision in the name of justice. ”

“Right.” She shook her head though she didn’t quite manage to stop from smiling as she began searching the list for the first name Adrian had written down in his notebook.