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I t had to be something she’d eaten. Perhaps the pie she’d purchased last week when she’d visited the seamstress. The flavor had not been the best, leading her to suspect it wasn’t as fresh as it should have been. But she’d been hungry and now it seemed she was paying the price.

A queasy sensation had since overtaken her more than once. But every time she believed she might cast up her accounts, the feeling vanished. Fresh air seemed to help though it was a temporary solution.

The bedchamber door opened and Adrian entered. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little. Lying down helps.”

He nudged the door shut and padded to the bed, then lowered himself to the edge of it and took her hand. “You should have told me you were unwell. I can’t believe Miss Hastings made the observation in my stead. Makes me feel damn awful.”

“It shouldn’t. Honestly, I thought I was better until I had a biscuit during our meeting with Kendrick. Breakfast was fine but that biscuit…” Her stomach turned over at the reminder and she forced back a groan.

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” Adrian asked. “Would you like something to drink?”

She shook her head. “I just want to lie here and not move.”

“Do you wish to see a physician?”

“Not right now.” When Adrian opened his mouth as though to argue she said, “You needn’t worry. I’ll be fine. Rest will help.”

“Are you certain?” She nodded and he squeezed her hand before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Kendrick has taken Melroy back to Bow Street. He intends to keep him there while he searches St. George’s.

“So Kendrick believes Melroy might be involved in the killings?”

“I’m not sure. He may simply be trying to avoid making the kind of mistake that can’t be undone later.”

“Holding an innocent man won’t be without consequence either.”

“It’s better than the alternative, which is why we brought him here instead of letting him walk away last night.”

“If he’s a liar, he’s a skilled one.” Additional talks with Melroy had led Samantha to the conclusion that he had no part in any kind of malpractice.

“So were Clive Newton and Benjamin Lawrence. Let’s not forget that.” When she didn’t respond Adrian told her, “I plan to speak with Murdoch, Fellowes, and Simmons today. See if they can provide additional insight.”

“I’d offer to join you but I think I’d prefer to stay here if that’s all right.”

“Of course it is.” He smiled, the warmth in his gaze assuring her of his love. A quick kiss to her brow offered further proof before he departed, leaving her to her rest.

* * *

Gabriella Hastings stared straight ahead while she travelled the stretch of road that would take her, Kendrick, and Jackson back to Bow Street together with Mr. Melroy.

She’d always considered herself to be good-natured, understanding, and forgiving.

Accepting of her fellow man. Yet she could not find anything likable about Mr. Croft at the moment. Indeed, she despised him.

She’d not intended to. In fact, after reading his file and learning what he had gone through, she’d imagined sympathizing with him. Had done so in fact. Until she’d met him.

Not during their initial encounter, but today. At first, he’d not done much to alter her opinion. The facts he’d shared had been direct and to the point. She appreciated that. But she did not like the undercurrent of pure disdain he’d directed at Kendrick.

Though it had always been there in some capacity, it had been especially evident this morning.

Whether because they’d met at Croft’s home where he felt like he had the upper hand or some other ridiculous male reason, she hated it.

The manner in which he’d spoken to Kendrick grated.

He didn’t deserve to be addressed as though he were a foolish child who didn’t know how to do simple sums.

It was especially vexing when Kendrick, the man who’d placed the truth above his career, had helped Croft gain his acquittal.

If anything, the bastard should be falling to his knees and kissing the ground on which Kendrick walked.

But no. He chose to belittle him instead and make him feel silly.

Incompetent. In front of others, no less.

Not that she thought the world of Kendrick. Ha! The man annoyed her beyond all reason. Especially with his incessant smoking, which she was starting to think he deliberately chose to do in her presence simply because he knew it bothered her.

However, she believed herself to be a sensible woman. She was her father’s daughter, and he was the most level headed person she knew. As such, she considered herself quite capable of detecting injustice, and as far as she could tell, the way Mr. Croft treated Kendrick was unacceptable.

Kendrick might have his faults, it was true, but he cared about people and worked hard to seek justice on behalf of those who’d become victims of a crime.

He deserved to be respected, not ridiculed or criticized.

Least of all by Croft, who was nothing more than a high-end criminal.

His worth was entirely based upon the value he added to Bow Street’s investigations.

“Miss Hastings?”

Gabriella jerked to attention in response to Kendrick’s tone, which suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d spoken her name. She’d been so lost in thought she’d not heard him. Curiosity filled his blue eyes as he leaned across the distance between them, as if to better study her face.

“Yes?” He must think her a proper idiot. She cleared her throat and met his gaze squarely. “Forgive me, I was going over our meeting with the Crofts. In my head, that is.”

“Any additional insights you’d care to share?” This question was posed by Jackson and was spoken with the kind of gravity that suggested he valued what she had to say.

She glanced toward Mr. Melroy, who sat beside Kendrick, directly opposite Jackson. “Some of the herbs you mentioned were unfamiliar to me. Not that I’m an expert, but could it be that they’re difficult to acquire?”

“Indeed,” Melroy said. “Szechuan lovage is native to parts of Asia, making it rare here in England. Wentworth had to wait a long time for the quantities he ordered to arrive by ship.”

Gabriella nodded then shifted her attention to Kendrick, whose expression was now filled with interest. “Maybe if we figure out who has access to such a specimen, we’ll find our killer.”

* * *

Adrian sipped the brandy Murdoch had poured him and waited for his host to take a seat.

He’d met the employment agent over a decade ago, during the first assignment his father had given him.

They’d collaborated countless times since.

Of all his associates, Adrian valued Murdoch the most. The man’s ability to acquire information was second to none.

Adrian trusted him without fail, which was why he’d also turned to him when he needed to set up a refuge for the children he’d saved from a brothel last month.

“I don’t believe Doctor Wentworth to be involved in the scheme you’ve described,” Murdoch said once he’d lowered himself to the chair adjacent to Adrian’s.

Angling himself slightly to better face him, he set his glass on the round table standing between them, but didn’t release it. “Apparently, the man doesn’t lie.”

“Everyone lies,” Adrian said.

“Not him. From what I gather, it’s a trait that has made him unpopular among his colleagues, most notably with Mr. Melroy, whose pay was cut after Wentworth revealed he was stealing supplies.”

“You’re certain of this?” A foolish question Adrian realized, though one he could not help but ask.

“It’s what I’ve been told and I believe my source to be reliable.”

“Melroy made no mention of this when I interviewed him.” Then again, why would he when the information gave him a motive to take Wentworth down?

If he’d discovered Wentworth’s notes and chosen to use them for experimentation, he need only wait for them to be found by law enforcement officers and for Wentworth to be implicated in the crime while he himself walked away free.

“It would hardly be in Melroy’s best interest to let the world know he might be in favor of getting rid of Wentworth,” Murdoch said, echoing Adrian’s thoughts.

Adrian nodded. “What about Doctor Moore? Is there any chance he could be involved?” As St. George’s director, it made sense for him to be at the center of the secret organization of medical professionals Melroy claimed to exist.

Murdoch drank some brandy, then said, “According to Moore’s secretary, he keeps a strict schedule in order to make room for his family life. He’s described as a dedicated husband and father. Not the sort of man who might engage in nefarious deeds.”

“How many informants do you have at St. George’s?”

“Two. The secretary I mentioned and a nurse named Mrs. Lester.”

“I’ve met her,” Adrian said. “She wasn’t the most accommodating individual.”

“Is that an official complaint?”

“Just an observation I thought I’d share.

” Adrian leaned forward, prepared to rise.

“I’ve reason to believe there are secret tunnels leading both from St. George’s and from Westminster Abbey to a subterranean chamber.

There’s a chance it’s being used by a secret organization that calls itself The Asclepius Society.

Is this something your informants can look into? ”

“Certainly, though I doubt they’ll learn anything. If such an organization does indeed exist, there’s a reason neither has mentioned it to me yet.”

“Nevertheless, I’ll appreciate the effort.”

The group had taken measures to ensure no one would find out about it unless invited to join. Adrian downed his brandy and set his glass aside. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just this.” Murdoch reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Adrian, who gave the contents a quick scan. “I hope this will give you the answer you need.”