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W ill and Eversham were three parlors down when he heard the unmistakable sound of Lucy’s scream.

Will took off at a run, and when he pushed open the door to the compartment the noise had come from, the door was blocked by the bulk of a man’s body on the floor. He had a gaping wound in his chest that appeared to have killed him instantly. Right through the heart, he’d guess.

Shouldering his way in, he found Lucy comforting a sobbing Vera Blackwood. The knife Vera had used to kill Hamilton was still lodged in the body, thank God.

“You can’t know how cruel he could be, Lucy,” the other woman said in a watery voice. “I loved him. Of course I did. But he would have made a terrible husband. I should have seen it sooner.”

Will should have been surprised at the murderess’s complete lack of self-awareness, but at this point nothing about Vera Blackwood would surprise him.

He wanted to pry her arms from around Lucy’s neck, but before he could even get to them, Lucy said something into Vera’s ear.

The other woman stiffened, and then, pulling away from Lucy, she nodded and began dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief and smoothing down her hair. When she moved to sit on a chair near Lucy’s, Will saw what he hadn’t been able to see before.

Lucy’s hands and feet were bound to the chair.

Fortunately, Eversham entered before Will could get close enough to show Vera Blackwood what he thought of her brand of friendship.

And the detective superintendent was followed by a pair of constables who set about moving Hamilton’s corpse so that the door could be opened properly.

While Eversham directed two more constables to arrest Vera Blackwood, Will began cutting through the ropes that bound Lucy to the chair.

When she was freed, he began to massage her hands and the ugly red marks that had been left there by the bindings, but she pushed his hands away and threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him as if she’d never let him go.

Will clutched her to him and breathed in the now-familiar scent of her and felt the warmth of her body against his and the soft silk of her hair against his cheek. To think that he’d almost lost her today to a woman with no more conscience than an animal in the wild terrified him in a way he’d never been afraid of anything in his life.

“Promise me you will never ever do something so foolish again,” he said even as he stroked his hands down her back as if assuring himself that she was really here in his arms.

“It’s an easy promise to make,” Lucy said against his neck. “I thought maybe she’d been present when Hamilton tried to kill Christina and Hetty. And that she’d just gone along with him on the rest of the plans. Never did I once imagine that the woman whom I counted as a dear friend, who laughed, cried, and gossiped with the rest of us like any other lady, would be the one who suggested Christopher Hamilton kill his own cousin in cold blood, or attempt to murder two innocent women, or any of the other things we now know she’s responsible for.”

“When Meg told me you’d gone to meet her,” he said, feeling once again the jolt of fear that had coursed through him, “Lucy, I was so afraid for you. For us. I only just found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with and then suddenly I had to contemplate losing her before we had a chance to begin.”

Feeling the threat of tears behind his eyes, he took a breath to calm himself. Holding her away from him so that he could look into her lovely violet eyes, he said, “I love you, Lucy Penhallow. And I want to marry you.”

A joyful smile broke across her face. “I love you too, Will. But I’ve already agreed to marry you.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean I want to marry you now. Today. As soon as we can find a vicar who will perform the service.”

“I’d love to,” she said with a bemused expression, “but don’t we need a sp—”

“Special license,” he finished for her. Then reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a folded document. “I took the liberty of requesting one the morning after our encounter in the Leighton-Childe’s library.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You did?” she asked, a pleased smile curving her plump and oh-so-kissable lips. “But we barely knew each other.”

“When a man knows, he knows,” Will said, kissing the end of her nose. “Now, what will it be? A standing-room-only society wedding and St. George’s Hanover Square with fifteen hundred of our closest friends in attendance? Or a small affair with just us, our mothers, a couple of witnesses, and a minister in your mother’s drawing room?”

“The second one please,” Lucy said with a heartfelt sigh of contentment.

“Had enough of being scrutinized by all and sundry, eh?” Gilford asked with a raised brow.

“I very much preferred my self-imposed wallflower status to being the center of attention from the ton gossips,” Lucy said with a shudder.

“I can’t promise you we won’t draw the curiosity of society once we’re wed,” Will said with a sincerity that made Lucy’s heart squeeze with affection for him. “But my darling wallflower, I can promise that I won’t ever leave you to endure it alone.”

“Promise?” Lucy asked, meeting his gaze with her own.

Will stroked a thumb over her cheek. “Absolutely. Now, let us leave this place and get you home. We have a very small wedding to plan.”