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Chapter Twelve

Fanny’s pulse continued to race through her veins. Did William truly believe that shot was meant for her? Why would anyone wish her dead? Shivers racked her shoulders and chills went down her spine that had nothing to do with the February cold. “How does one go forward in life once their eyes have been opened to the horrors of human nature without explanation?”

“You push through the fear with courage,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Don’t let the evil win, Francesca.” When his voice broke slightly on her name, her heart squeezed. “I promise not to let harm come to you.”

“You can’t truly do that, for you don’t know where the threat is coming from.” For a few seconds she enjoyed the relative safety and comfort of his embrace. Now that her world had suddenly been shaded and flipped upside down, he was the constant she could depend upon. In this one moment, she didn’t wonder about choosing a man, didn’t worry about feelings or the future, she just sought his strength and burrowed into it.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I appreciate your attentiveness because… I’m slightly terrified.” Hiccup! “Case in point.” But when she tried to laugh, the sound fell flat.

“All will be well.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you remember when we first began working together?”

“Yes.”

“And I said that if at any time I felt the case became too dangerous you would leave off?”

Hiccup.“I do.”

“Perhaps this is that time.” His voice sounded forced and tight. “If I asked you to return home and stay there, would you?”

Fanny thought about it and then finally shook her head. “Not as long as you’re still out here working to solve the murders and putting yourself into danger. That’s not fair, and if I’m to be a true journalist, I can’t shy away from any of it.” Hiccup. Hiccup!

When she assumed he’d show anger or impatience, he merely sighed and rubbed a hand up and down her arm. “Ah, Francesca, what am I to do with you then?” The soft words, barely audible, left gooseflesh chasing over her skin.

What indeed? Now was not the time to tease him about it, but perhaps she’d revisit this conversation once the shock had worn off.

By the time they’d arrived at Lord Coxhill’s townhouse, she’d managed to regain the bulk of her composure as well as to quell the hiccups. Once she and William were shown into a drawing room, he made the introductions.

“Good afternoon. I’m Inspector Storme from Bow Street, as your butler said, and this is Miss Bancroft, a journalist with the General Evening Post.”

Both Lord Coxhill’s mother—a stately woman with silver in her blonde hair—and his sister—a woman perhaps Fanny’s age with gleaming chestnut hair and blue eyes—protested together.

“Oh, not the press!”

“We’d rather keep this horrific happening out of the eyes of society.”

Fanny held up a hand. Her heart went out to the women who were visibly upset. “Please, calm yourselves. I promise I won’t write a word about it. I’m here assisting Bow Street only, for the case has rapidly grown out of hand.”

The dowager countess nodded and fairly drooped into a chair while her daughter sat on a low sofa. “Thank you for understanding.” She gestured to a chair that matched hers. “Please sit, Miss Bancroft. You seem about to faint yourself.”

“It’s been a rather trying day.” With a tiny sigh of gratitude, Fanny perched on the chair. She looked to William, who’d elected to remain standing. “Let me begin our visit by extending our deepest condolences. I can’t imagine your loss.”

The older woman pressed a handkerchief to the corner of one eye. “This is such horrible news. My husband died two years ago when his heart attacked him, and now this.” She shook her head and looked at her daughter. “Whatever will we do?”

“We shall manage,” Lady Georgianna murmured. She turned her attention to William, for the Bow Street Runner’s presence in the room commanded attention even when he didn’t speak. “How did it happen?”

William clasped his hands behind his back. “He was murdered, quite violently, and found in Hyde Park near the Serpentine. However, if it offers any comfort during this saddening time, his death was immediate.”

Fanny bit her bottom lip, for knowing what she did about the jagged stabbing to the abdomen on all the victims, there’d been no indication those people died without suffering. Quite likely, their deaths were slow and extremely painful as they bled out. But she understood why William had said that. It gave the family a bit of closure, and they didn’t need to know gory details. Her respect and admiration for him rose ever higher.

“Thank you, Inspector.” The dowager sniffled into her handkerchief.

William nodded. “If I may ask a few questions before we take our leave?”

“Of course.”

“What sort of man was His Lordship?”


Tags: Sandra Sookoo The Storme Brothers Historical