“Yes.” Her brow creased. What did that have to do with the case? “I used a modiste Lady Jane and your mother suggested.”
“Damn it.” William swung about to face the chief inspector. “Pryce, send agents to Miss Bancroft’s modiste’s shop. Guard the woman and her seamstresses. And put a watch on them all just in case.”
“A bit overkill, don’t you think, Storme?”
“We don’t know where the threat is or where it will go next. I want all avenues covered.” Then he turned to address her once more. “Check your gown for pins or needles that could be poisoned.”
Fanny’s pulse kicked up. “Steady, William. I don’t believe my gown is sabotaged.” She dared to lay a hand on his arm. “Everything will come out right.”
He battled to master the emotions that quickly flitted over his face. “I’m done here,” he told his superior. “The coroner can take the body.” A muscle ticced in his jaw. “I have a feeling this will all come to a head soon. I can feel it in my gut.”
The chief inspector frowned. He crossed his arms at his chest. “No other fact than that?”
“None. Just instinct. Our killer grows close and desperate. Also, I believe it’s turned personal.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Was a megrim brewing? “I need to think.”
“Thank you for your time, Chief Inspector,” Fanny murmured. She gently led William from the shop to his waiting carriage at the curb. “Go home, Inspector. You’re about to drop from exhaustion. Have you even slept in the last few days?”
“Fitfully. There’s always something to worry about.” He shook his head when they reached the open carriage door. “I have to solve this. To keep you safe, to give you a future so you can choose Lord Wainwright if that’s your wish.”
Hot guilt circled through her chest. In her mind and in her heart, she’d already chosen William. She merely needed to tell the viscount, but her heart squeezed. Did William return her affection? He hadn’t said as much, and she couldn’t build a future on hints or assumptions. “Go home, William.” A tiny shove toward the carriage prodded him into motion.
“Please come with me.” His voice was graveled and tinged with desperation. “I need to keep you in my sight, to protect you, else…”
“I rather doubt that’s necessary, but I will accompany you all the same.” She climbed into the carriage, and he followed. When he remained silent, apparently numb with thoughts, she leaned around him to address the driver. “Inspector Storme’s residence, please.” Once the door closed, she looked at him. “It’s only a short ride from here. Be strong now, for you can soon break in private.”
He clutched at her hand, obliterating her chance of switching benches to put space between them. “I can’t, Francesca. I need to remain strong.”
“Sometimes, the only way we can do that is to shatter and put ourselves back together again with new purpose.” Oh, this poor man, who had the world on his shoulders, who refused to let someone help carry his burden. Were all Storme men this stubborn?
“How do you know?”
Her smile was wry. “Because I’ve done it at least three times in my life. It’s how we grow and mature. Don’t shy away from it.”
He turned his head and stared out the window as the carriage lurched into motion.
Fanny sat quietly beside him, holding tight to his hand, just as they’d done so many times before, hoping to give him support without words. He was a man driven in many aspects of his life, but much of him remained hidden to her. How exactly did he feel about her? She’d seen the raw emotions in his eyes both yesterday and that wonderful afternoon in her drawing room when they’d come together and shared something beyond physical intimacy. She had thought he might declare himself on both occasions, but he hadn’t, and she didn’t wish to reveal her feelings for fear he’d reject her in favor of remaining alone.
Or of keeping her safe. As if that was an impediment to romance. I have more of a backbone than he thinks.
Yes, they were two broken souls, but together, they made one whole person with intelligence and power at their disposal. Why, then, was it so difficult to expose the truth and feelings to each other?
All too soon, they arrived at his townhouse in Grosvenor Square. When William moved as if a man shocked and in a dream, she quietly directed the butler to bring tea to the drawing room as well as William’s violin.
“Where is Lady Doughton or Miss Storme?” Perhaps her friend Isobel could help. Wouldn’t she be able to soothe him?
The butler looked at her oddly before respect took hold. “The Countess of Hadleigh has them over for tea today.” He glanced at William. “Are you quite well, Inspector?”
“No, I am not.” He moved woodenly along the corridor toward the stairs.
Fanny sighed. She shook her head. “Bring the requested items quickly, then grant us privacy. The inspector is out of sorts, and I think it’s about to storm.”
The butler frowned. “But, Miss Bancroft, it’s a sunny afternoon.”
Oh, bother.The man obviously didn’t understand word play. “So it is.” She trailed after William, and when he collapsed onto a low sofa, her chest tightened. Fanny wrung her hands together while she paced in front of the windows. Never had she seen him so… defeated. What to do? How could she help before he descended into a depression of sorts? Perhaps I should summon Lady Jane. She knows about depression, for her husband battles with it.
In short order, the butler arrived with the tea tray as did a footman with William’s violin and bow.
“Will that be all, Miss Bancroft?” the older man asked with a concerned glance at William.