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W ill had just alighted from the hackney near Hatchard’s when he saw Eversham hurrying toward him. How the devil had the fellow beaten him here?

But the detective superintendent was in no humor for questions, and given the situation, neither was Will.

“I came as soon as your sister and Woodward told me,” Eversham said. “I don’t believe Lucy is in the bookstore. It’s much more likely that Vera has taken her into the station.”

Will felt a sense of dread run through him. “Why?” he asked as he followed Lucy’s cousin down the street toward the train station, which was one of the busiest in London.

“I had come to Gilford House to tell you what I learned from Richard Blackwood,” the detective explained as the two men pushed their way through the crowds covering the sidewalks. “Christopher Hamilton is not dead.”

Will swore. “How? Why?”

“Before he left for England, Christopher killed his cousin Jedidiah and made everyone believe it was him,” Eversham explained even as he and Will strode forward toward the station’s entrance. “He and Vera thought that if they could convince Blackwood that Jed had kidnapped her and forced her to marry him, then Blackwood would release the money left in trust to Vera from her mother to the married couple.”

“He and Vera?” Will’s mind had stopped trying to comprehend Eversham’s words at the mention of Lucy’s friend. “So she was the woman who attacked Christina Fleetwood and Hetty. I wish you were joking.”

“I wish I were, too,” Eversham said with a scowl. “Vera Blackwood has been by Hamilton’s side for every crime he’s committed since landing on these shores.”

“And she’s the one who summoned Lucy,” Will said to the other man, sidestepping a footman carrying a large trunk.

“I know,” Eversham said, “I saw the note. Blackwood says that Hamilton and Vera are planning to flee to South America as soon as they take care of one last detail.”

“Lucy,” Will said her name on an exhale.

“Yes,” Eversham said grimly.

“But why harm Lucy?” Will asked, as he and Eversham finally reached the stately brick building that was one of the crown jewels of England’s transportation system. “Why not me? Or you, for that matter?”

Eversham glanced at him as they stepped out of the sunlight and into the busy station. “Because she views Lucy’s continued meddling in her disappearance as a betrayal. Vera wanted her abduction to be witnessed, of course, and she knew that if she disappeared from the ballroom her friends would come looking for her. But the investigating Lucy did after that was what Vera believes forced them into the other crimes.”

“So she means to teach Lucy a lesson.” Will felt the blood chill in his veins. “How?” he asked.

“By pushing her off the platform onto the tracks.”

Unsure of where in such a massive structure he would possibly find Lucy, a woman he was now certain he loved with all his heart, Will looked to Eversham.

“Blackwood said that Vera always insists on reserving a private parlor in the station. She is used to all the finer things in life. Including avoiding mixing with the hoi polloi in stations.”

With some idea of where to look now, Will broke into a run.

“But I do not understand,” Lucy said for what felt like the hundredth time. “Why can you not wait until your birthday to receive your trust? It is only two years from now. Surely there was no need for such violence and bloodshed.”

“Because I could not endure another moment in my father’s household, that’s why.” Vera paced before Lucy, who was bound with her hands behind her. “I should think that you, of all people, would understand that. It was why I found you such a kindred spirit as soon as we met. Like me, you were the target of every fortune hunter in London. Yet your mama insisted you endure season after season. It was clear to anyone with a few moments’ acquaintance with you that you are far too clever for the gentlemen of the ton . But there you were, paraded before them. ‘Like a prize mare’ were your exact words, were they not?”

Lucy shook her head in disbelief. She had complained about her mother’s insistence that she put herself through the humiliation of a season yet again, but it had been half in jest. She certainly hadn’t meant she’d kill to keep from going through it again. If she really wished, she could have put her foot down and refused. But she and her mother had been so close for so long. And Lucy had known that Mrs. Penhallow wished above all things to see her daughter settled. Lucy would certainly never have killed someone over it.

“I did say that, yes,” she said in a reasoning tone. “But I would never—”

“Do not become a bore, Lucy,” Vera chided. “I told Christopher that you were clever. He’ll think I was lying if you continue to be such a spoilsport. Won’t you, Christopher?”

Hamilton, who had been peeking out the door to the parlor, as if searching for someone in particular, ignored Vera’s question and looked at Lucy. “Your cousin has said nothing about locating Vera’s father? You’re certain?”

“I haven’t spoken to Cousin Andrew since earlier in the day yesterday. We didn’t even know Mr. Blackwood was in danger—that is, that he had been taken away to give Vera her inheritance money.”

“So you’re completely certain that no one knows where Blackwood has been—”

Lucy cut him off. “As far as I know, no one knows where Mr. Blackwood is. But I haven’t spoken to my cousin in more than twenty-four hours. It is possible that he’s been found, but I’m not a spiritualist like the woman the two of you stabbed.”

She had at first spoken in a placating tone so as not to rouse the man’s ire, but she was tired of all of this. Of him. Of Vera. Of being terrified that she’d never see Will or her mother again.

But the anger, instead of coming from Hamilton, was directed at her from her erstwhile friend. She felt the impact of Vera’s bare hand on her cheek with all the surprise of a bolt of lightning in a storm.

“I can’t have you talking to my husband like that, Lucy,” Vera said with a scowl. “I don’t care how strong our friendship has been.”

Lucy ran her tongue around the inside of her cheek where her teeth had cut into it. “Apologies,” she said tightly. She couldn’t believe how completely she’d misjudged Vera. She’d thought the American was just what she’d presented herself to be: a lonely, bookish, clever girl in need of friendship outside the restrictive bounds of the ballroom. Instead, she was like a lizard Lucy had once read about—able to change her appearance to suit whatever environment she found herself in. Except Vera changed not only her appearance, but also her personality and manners. It was chilling.

Vera patted Lucy on the head, as if she were a favorite pet. “Apology accepted. Now be a good girl and behave yourself.”

Weary beyond belief but determined to keep her wits about her, Lucy tried another tack. “I don’t really understand why you must go away, Vera. If you both remained here, then you could continue as a member of the book group. And we could begin our married lives together.”

“Lucy, my dear friend,” Vera said, sitting down on a chair nearby, “your naivete is astounding sometimes. Of course we must leave England altogether because of my father’s whore and her inability to keep her mouth closed.”

Lucy had wondered what Vera thought of her father’s relationship with Lady Fortescue, and now she had her answer.

But Vera wasn’t finished. “Then there is the murder and the stabbings, of course.”

This last she said in such an offhand way that Lucy had to keep herself from gasping aloud. Instead she tried to match Vera’s manner, saying, “I suppose you are referring to Sir Charles and his sister and her maid?”

“Your father isn’t the only one with an inability to keep his mouth shut,” Hamilton said sharply, looking at Vera over his shoulder. “You need to stop telling her everything if you want me to release her.”

But if Vera was frightened by her husband’s warning, she didn’t show it. “I haven’t told her anything she didn’t already know. I told you that Lucy is as clever as they come. I wouldn’t have been able to endure her wide-eyed innocence otherwise.”

Despite what Lucy now knew about Vera’s character, the insult still made her wince. If you’d asked her two weeks ago whom she trusted more—Vera or Will—she’d have said Vera without question. But now…

“Do not look so sad, Lucy,” Vera said with a trill of laughter. “I did offer you a compliment, after all. And besides, you have figured out that it was Christopher you saw that night in the street behind the opera house, have you not?”

A glance at Christopher Hamilton told her that he was indeed the same build as the masked man she’d seen plunge his knife into Fleetwood’s chest. But the mention of it reminded Lucy of something. “Christina Fleetwood said there was a woman with Christopher when he attacked them. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Vera gave her a bright smile. “I knew you’d figure it out, clever girl. See there, Chris. I told you she is smarter that most ladies.”

“I hated to do it,” Vera told her. “But it had to be done. She’d seen his face, you see. Never mind that she’d somehow guessed that he wasn’t who he pretended to be. She might have got it wrong in thinking that he was Jed pretending to be Chris and not the other way around, but she was close enough to be a threat. It was just too bad we didn’t manage to finish them off.”

Before Lucy could respond, Hamilton pulled the door to the parlor closed and turned to them. “Eversham and Gilford are going from parlor to parlor looking for us. We need to get out of here before they reach this one.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” Vera said hotly. “We were going to wait here for—”

“I don’t give a damn what the plan was, Vera,” he snarled. “I said we are going to get out of here.”

To Lucy’s surprise, the bravado that had marked Vera’s attitude from the moment they’d reached the station disappeared and she seemed to deflate. “All right. Just give me a moment to untie Lucy and—”

“There’s no time,” Hamilton said. “We have to get out of here. Just leave her.”

Vera gave a glance in Lucy’s direction, and she must have seen something there that gave her pause because she turned back to Christopher and said, “I said wait for me to untie Lucy. You have been ordering me about since you came from America, and I’m tired of it. This marriage was supposed to be a chance for me to get free, not to simply switch jailers.”

Hamilton swore and came over to where Vera stood with her arms akimbo. “We don’t have time for this, Vera. And if I’ve been ordering you around it’s because you’ve been acting like such a little fool. Now do as I said, grab your valise, and let’s go.”

It happened so quickly that at first Lucy wasn’t sure she could believe the evidence of her eyes. One minute, Christopher Hamilton had been scolding Vera, and the next, Vera had pulled a knife from the valise in her hand and had plunged it into Hamilton’s chest.

The piercing scream Lucy heard then was her own.