Page 17

CHAPTER 16

“T hank you all for agreeing to aid our runners,” Grace said, smiling broadly at a group of maids, modistes, shopkeepers, and…one prostitute. “If you have questions or concerns, please call upon me at any time.” She gestured toward a stack of calling cards on her desk behind her. “My information is just there.”

There was a general murmur in response.

“For those of you who wish to remain anonymous, we have ways of communicating in a public setting to ensure that you are undiscovered. Additionally, our runners will be made aware of your places of business and, should it be required—or permitted—might solicit your services as a means to engage contact.”

Another of her runners entered the front rooms, catching Grace’s eye and gesturing with a note in her hand. Grace nodded in response, then turned her attention back to the new recruits for her galère of women.

“Payment will be provided on the first of each month unless you require it every fortnight, in which case please seek me out for further discussion on the morrow.”

She closed out her meeting, sharing smiles and polite—if short—discussions, before the women took their leave.

“Apologies,” Grace murmured as she accepted the proffered note from her runner.

She opened the note, tilting the parchment toward the morning light coming in through the large windows.

“ Ballocks .”

* * *

“Thomas!” Maria called as she entered her apartments for the second time that morning.

She hung her hat on one of the hooks near the door and removed her gloves, satisfied with the delivery of her article and the likeness of Francis. She and Jasper had been officially in attendance at the opera the previous evening, and the denizens of London would once more be reminded of Francis. It had taken some clever manoeuvring to insert her addition to the genuine article once she had arrived at The Morning Herald offices, but she’d managed it.

“Thomas!” Was the man still abed, for heaven’s sake?

He appeared from the short corridor’s entrance, a half smile on his face as he tied his cravat. “Good— grunt, click —morning to you as well, dear sister.” He gestured toward her writing desk. “A parcel arrived for you this morning.”

A parcel! Her heart skipped happily. Could it be from Jasper?

She hurried to her desk, but with one glance at the harsh, slanted writing, she knew that it was not from someone she knew. Her sigh rushed from her lungs, and her shoulders sagged slightly. It was silly to be hopeful.

“I—” She cleared her throat, and turned to her brother as nervousness tripped her tongue. “I’ve something to discuss with you.”

His eyebrows puckered, and the mirth fled from his gaze as he nodded mutely and took to his favoured chair by the low-burning fire.

Kneeling at his side, she clasped one of his hands between hers. “Firstly, dearest, I must apologize for my abysmal treatment of you yesterday.”

Thomas shook his head. “Oh, but you?—”

“No,” she asserted. “I most certainly must make amends. I ought never to have hidden you from Jasper—regardless of the reason. Even should our marriage not come to pass, he deserves the truth. And you deserve to be treated with respect. I am so sorry, Thomas, that I dishonoured you in such a way.”

Thomas leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “All is for— grunt —given, Maria.”

She smiled up at him and stood, her stomach fluttering with nerves. “Thank you. Now, there is another matter…”

“Another?” His eyebrows lifted in curiosity and concern.

Maria began a slow pace on the brocade rug. “Last night, I began my post at Jasper’s home…” Pulse racing, Maria detailed the events of the previous evening.

Thomas’ light brown gaze grew darker as she spoke, his jaw clenching and his shoulders tensing with ire as his twitches and grunts grew more frequent. A low growl escaped him as she described her struggle with Francis. And then she hesitated.

She and Thomas had always been forthright with each other, and despite the sensitivity of the topic, she would not shy away from the truth with him. Mayhap she ought simply to be blunt. Thomas was an understanding sort of man; he would likely be shocked but accepting.

And yet, the words wouldn’t come. A part of her thought that despite her intention to be honest with Thomas, she ought to keep her intimacies with Jasper private.

“What happened after— grunt— Francis escaped?” Thomas asked, his voice low and steely.

Maria was silent for a long moment while she considered her response.

All at once, Thomas surged to his feet, his mien thunderous. “I’ll shoot the— grunt, grunt, grunt, grunt, click —bastard!” He gasped a breath. “Where’s my pistol?”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Maria scolded. “Sit down and have a cup of tea,” she urged. “You’ll impel yourself into an attack of spasms.” And heaven knew she could not use that guilt on her conscience; the last time, Thomas had very nearly stopped breathing.

“Jasper— grunt, click, click, click —assaulted your virtue, Maria!” Thomas’ face squeezed tightly for several long moments before returning to normal, the motion leaving a slight flush on his cheeks.

Maria’s stomach twisted, and a damp sweat started beneath her breast binding. Nerves tingled along her spine and thickened her throat, forcing her to tug at her suddenly too-tight cravat. “You know very well that I do not conform to the haut ton ’s expectations, and I never shall. But Jasper did not assault my virtue, for pity’s sake. Besides, how could you even?—”

“It’s— click , click , grunt— written all over— grunt— your f-face. Tell me it isn’t t-true.”

Despite her best efforts, she was unable to prevent the heat that crept up her neck and stole into her cheeks.

“ Ugh! ” Thomas’ features crumpled in a cringe.

At least they’d taken precautions. While their Mama hadn’t detailed encounters with men during her discussions with Maria and her sisters, taking on the alternate identity of Mr. Duncan Robertson had afforded her access to rather enlightening reading materials and information.

“Enough of— click— this. I c-cannot th— grunt, grunt— think on it any longer.” He cleared his throat. “Now, what are— grunt— we to do about the bastard, Mr. Francis Sinclair?”

“I shall visit Grace this morning to report in after the events of last evening. I should also like to confer with Heather to discover if she learned anything of import during her shift yesterday. Would you be so good as to examine my maid’s uniform and see if it might be repaired? I could not determine the severity of the damage in the darkness of night, but I know for certain that there were tears.”

Thomas nodded. “Of course— click, grunt . I’d intended to walk to the haberdashery this morning anyway; I’ll fetch the necessary items.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” Maria pulled him into a familial hug, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. She was surrounded by his comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla before he strode for the door and retrieved his gloves and hat. The man was kind beyond words and she loved him dearly; how could anyone not see past a few sounds and uncontrolled body movements to the wonderful person within?

The door closed behind him, and she heaved a sigh. The frock that she’d donned before leaving her home that morning was waiting, and Grace certainly required an update on events. On the way to her bedchamber, she spotted the parcel sitting upon her desk.

It was curious indeed.

She sat at the desk and cut the twine with the dagger hidden in her boot. The parcel was soft, though slightly lumpy, and it had been wrapped several times. Nimbly, she peeled away the wrapping one layer at a time. An odd wave of trepidation stole over her, and the closer she came to revealing the contents, the worse she felt.

Dark moisture seeped through the packaging, and a growing sense of dread quavered deep inside her. Fingers trembling, Maria pulled back the last layer to find…

“ Holy hell !”

She stood so swiftly that her chair toppled backward with a loud crack . Heart in her throat, she closed her eyes, clutching at her chest. It isn’t… It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Willing her speeding pulse to slow, she stepped closer to peer at the parcel’s contents. Fur, bones…and blood. A gag caught her unaware, and she swallowed against it. This was the work of Francis Sinclair. The monster had killed a…well, an animal, to be sure, the poor beastie. And he knew her home address.

The dread that had settled in her bones spread throughout her body, making her fingers tingle with the force of it. Francis knew of her apartments! She and Thomas were in danger here. She must see Grace immediately.

* * *

“She was poisoned, Your Grace,” the doctor said gravely, confirming Jasper’s suspicion. “And this was found on her person.”

Jasper gave a sharp nod, his gut churning with guilt, and accepted the bit of parchment. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I can prepare her body for transport. Might I have the help of three of your footmen?”

“Of course,” Jasper said, gesturing to the footman who was lingering in the doorway. The man bowed and disappeared into the corridor.

The doctor knelt to his task, and Jasper joined Miss Grace Huntsbury by the hearth. She leaned her back against the wall, her grey-green eyes dark with concern.

He sniffed carefully at the parchment—no laurel water—before opening it.

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,

That thou may’st shake the superflux to them

And show the heavens more J ust.

Fuck .

“It is as we suspected,” Jasper confirmed, offering the parchment to the woman.

Her lips tightened, dimpling her gently rounded cheeks as she accepted the proffered note. “I imagine he reserved the laurel water for Lady Cartwright.” She hummed. “We must inform Heather and Maria. This is their assignment, after all.”

“Of course.” Jasper nodded. “I’ve sent a missive to the baron, and I’ve spoken with the neighbouring staff. Harris mentioned an inquiry, but I daresay that will take time, and it will come to naught, for we already know the perpetrator.”

Miss Huntsbury sighed. “Indeed. It would seem that Mr. Sinclair is no longer content with minor threats and near misses; the man is in earnest.”

“I should say so,” Jasper confirmed, his gut knotting with remorse once more. “Mayhap this wouldn’t have happened to Lady Cartwright if Maria had remained a short while longer, or if I’d been awake.”

“I’ll have Maria’s report later.” The woman gave him a sad smile and shook her head, her brown curls wobbling with the motion. “You oughtn’t blame yourself, Your Grace. These acts are the design of someone driven only by greed and revenge, with no regard for the lives of anyone but himself.”

The tension in his neck eased slightly, but his heart remained troubled. “Thank you.”

* * *

Maria’s ears echoed with the thud of her pulse, the pounding of horses’ hooves, and the rattle of the hack’s wheels along the cobblestoned streets of London. Nausea tossed her stomach and, though she hated to admit it, fear stiffened her spine and caused the hair upon her nape to stand on end.

She’d raced down her apartments’ stairs in time to reach Thomas and warn him of the danger, but with their home no longer safe, where would he go? He’d assured her that he would be well, and she ought to put her faith in that.

They hit a rut, and Maria jostled against the tattered squabs. The hack carried the odour of unwashed bodies and, undoubtedly, the contents of the parcel, which she had resealed and brought with her. She ought to have buried the poor thing, but it was possible there was another message within the carcass. And she simply didn’t have the stomach to search on her own. Indeed, the moment she’d finished tying the last knot on the parcel, she packed her frock into a travelling satchel and carried both items out the door.

Even now, it is possible that Francis is following me , her thoughts whispered. He’d left the parcel at her door. Surely there ought to be a way for her to ascertain if the man was in pursuit.

“ Whoa !” the driver hollered.

Someone cursed and horses whinnied as the hack jolted sideways.

With a gasp, Maria dropped her satchel to the floor with the parcel and braced herself against the hack’s wall, her entire body wracked with trembling.

Crunch! Crack! As though a great battle had been waged and lost, the hack slumped at a perilously sharp angle, tossing her to one side with a hard thwump .

Pain radiated through her temple, but she only gave it a passing notice as ice chilled her veins.

Francis .