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“W hat do you think?” Adrian asked Samantha a couple of hours later. Having left Melroy in the parlor with Murry, they’d removed to Adrian’s study so they could speak in private.

“Instinct compels me to doubt every word he’s told us.” She stood, arms crossed and with an edgy look about her, as though she expected Kendrick to show up at any second. “We’d be fools to trust him. Beyond that, this situation bears too much resemblance to Clive Newton’s capture for my liking.”

Adrian acknowledged her point though he disagreed with the last part.

“I’ll grant you that Melroy might just be trying to save his own skin.

If he’s a member of this Asclepius Society, he could have been trying to make sure there was no evidence of foul play to be found in case Bow Street happened upon the secret location.

He could have been part of a cover up operation that’s underway now that bodies are turning up and the chief constable himself has begun investigating.

That said, our current situation is entirely different from anything relating to Clive Newton. ”

“He was brought here as well, was he not?”

Adrian stared at her. While he’d alluded to the part he’d played in Newton’s capture and subsequent death, they’d never openly discussed it.

“Yes,” Adrian confessed. He’d be damned if he’d lie to her. “Not to the parlor, however, but to the room in the cellar beneath the stairs.”

“We cannot do that to Melroy.”

“Of course we can’t.” They weren’t even sure of Melroy’s guilt. “Newton murdered several women, including my sister. To suggest I might treat a potentially innocent man as I would that monster makes me worry about your opinion of me.”

“My opinion of you is that you can be rash and unforgiving. Or have you forgotten the public accusation you made against the Marquess of Lundquist when you wrongly declared him to be Evie’s killer? It’s a miracle you didn’t have to face him in a duel.”

“I daresay we’ve both made mistakes. However, I’ve no intention of locking Melroy in that room and torturing him without good reason. Murry guarding him will suffice for now.”

“You have to tell Kendrick.”

“About what? The hidden tunnels and secret society? The fact that we ran into Melroy while hunting for clues? Or that he’s our guest at the moment?”

“All of it.” She held his gaze with unwavering firmness.

“You cannot keep this from him, Adrian. As it is, he told us to stand down and let him handle matters. Not only did we choose not to listen and find information that could prove helpful to his investigation, we’ve also impacted the tunnel and the chamber with our presence.

If Kendrick heads down there when he goes to search St. George’s, he’ll find the gate unlocked and a smashed oil lamp, which will likely skew his deductions. ”

“I didn’t think you trusted him enough to make the right ones.”

“I don’t, which is why we went looking for answers. The whole point was to help him, was it not?”

“That was before we ended up having an altercation with a surgeon. My intention was to send Kendrick an anonymous note, informing him where to look. He might have suspected it was from me, but he wouldn’t have had any proof.

All of that has changed now. Melroy will tell him what happened the second the two of them speak. ”

“I expect so, which is yet another reason for you to come clean.”

Adrian shook his head, unable to understand why she wasn’t more worried about the potential repercussion of doing so.

“Kendrick specifically told me to leave the investigation to him. He told me to stay out of it and I said I’d do so.

My breaking into St. George’s and threatening Melroy is just the sort of thing Kendrick needs in order to put me back behind bars.

You, too, since you were the one holding a dagger to Melroy’s chest.”

“We didn’t kill anyone.”

“No, but—”

“Whatever charges Kendrick might press, Shaw can have them dismissed with ease. It wouldn’t result in more than a brief annoyance.”

“Coming on the heels of the last charges I faced, I’d like to avoid anything remotely damning to my reputation.”

“And so you shall. Kendrick won’t act against you, Adrian.” When he arched a brow in disbelief she said, “He risked too much to help you. If the extent of his involvement in your getting pardoned ever gets out, his career will be over.”

Adrian stared at her as what she said sank in.

He’d not really thought about that but she was right.

He and Kendrick were bound to each other because of Kendrick’s decision to help him.

However reluctant Adrian was to use that against the chief constable, it was an ace worth taking into consideration.

“If you withhold our findings from him,” Samantha pressed, “you won’t be aiding the investigation but hindering it.”

“Fine.” Adrian sat behind his desk and retrieved a blank sheet of paper. He reached for his quill next. Kendrick wouldn’t like what he had to say but Samantha was right. The constable needed to know what they’d learned.

* * *

Peter Kendrick tried to calm down. The deep breaths he’d been taking since reading Croft’s message an hour ago only helped for a brief second. As soon as he recalled the words, blood rushed to the top of his skull once more. Honestly, his head felt like it might explode, he was so bloody angry.

“I thought we were going to St. George’s,” Miss Hastings said.

She sat across from him and Jackson as they travelled through the city by carriage. These were the first words she’d uttered since they’d set off. No one else had spoken either. Which suited Peter fine. He was too busy visualizing the dressing down he planned to give Croft as soon as they met.

“I have an inconvenient matter I’m forced to attend to first,” Kendrick told her. “We’ll head to St. George’s after.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell us what the inconvenient matter pertains to?

” She tilted her head and blinked a few times while sending him a sweet smile, which made him feel like she was mocking him.

He gnashed his teeth and told himself this wasn’t her fault even as she said, “Or perhaps Jackson already knows and I am the only one kept in the dark?”

“You’re not,” Jackson said before addressing Peter. “Whatever has happened, you cannot arrive looking as though you’re about to murder the person you’re meeting. Least of all if that person happens to be Mr. Croft.”

“He deliberately disregarded my request,” Peter seethed, his attention on the buildings they passed on their way to Portman Square.

“And you’re understandably upset about this, but I fear your anger will only have a negative effect on you. Based on my own observations of the man, Croft is immune to that sort of thing.”

Peter took another deep breath and expelled it. Jackson was right. He had to find the wherewithal to leash his emotions. It was the only way to get through this without saying or doing something foolish.

The carriage stopped in front of Croft House and Peter prepared to alight. “Wait for me here.”

“We should come with you,” Miss Hastings said before he opened the door. “He won’t expect the three of us to show up together. A united front might throw him slightly off balance. And given your mood, we may also help in preventing you from acting rashly.”

Offended by her implication, Peter sent her a glare. “I never act rashly, Miss Hastings.”

“Your tone suggests you may be about to,” Jackson warned.

Peter closed his eyes briefly and fought for control. “Fine. But you’re both to let me lead the discussion. Agreed?”

“Of course,” Jackson said.

Miss Hastings nodded and Peter opened the door.

Less than five minutes later, the three of them sat in the Croft House parlor, Peter and Jackson on one sofa, Mr. and Mrs. Croft on the other, and Miss Hastings in one of two armchairs that made up the rest of the seating arrangement.

A tea tray had been requested with Peter making a point of asking for coffee to be brought up as well.

The stronger the better, he’d told the maid.

Again, he took a deep breath, held it, and allowed the exhale to ease the tension stiffening his muscles. A cheroot would be welcome right now. He fought the urge to reach for his silver case since he’d no wish to ask the Crofts for permission to smoke.

“I thought I made myself explicitly clear yesterday evening,” Peter began.

He leaned forward in his seat, forearms braced upon his thighs, hands clasped together as he looked directly at Mr. Croft.

“You were to stay out of my way while my Runners and I investigate. Yet you chose to break into a hospital and snoop around during the middle of the night. Why?”

In his effort to keep his voice level, he sounded strained to his own ears.

“Because I worried about your decision to wait until morning with your search.”

“Or maybe,” Peter suggested, “you believed you could do a better job than I.”

“It was both those things,” Mrs. Croft informed him, earning a sharp look from her husband, in response to which she shrugged one shoulder. “If we’re being honest with him, we might as well go all the way.”

Peter clenched his jaw. Of course Mrs. Croft would choose to question his capabilities in front of his colleagues. Her open dislike of him should have better prepared him for such a maneuver. The fact that he’d played straight into her hands only irritated him all the more.

“You don’t have the best success record,” Mr. Croft added, his tone mocking.

“And while I’ll admit you do,” Peter said, his pulse beginning to race as a wave of heat swept up the back of his neck, “you’re a known criminal, whom I might add, I recently helped walk free.

The least you can do now is allow me the courtesy of letting me investigate my case unhindered without creating additional problems for me to deal with. ”

“I didn’t expect my search of St. George’s to be problematic,” Mr. Croft said.