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“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of the man.” His cousin shrugged as his frown deepened. “Finn’s wife is the one knowledgeable about Debrett’s, but they’re not in attendance tonight.”

“But I am, and I regularly study the peerage.” Francesca’s mother came over to them both with her husband following. No doubt they’d been visiting the refreshments room. Her eyes were wide, and worry clouded her face. “Is Fanny in trouble?”

William exchanged a glance with Andrew. Perhaps it was best to tell the truth in this situation, prepare them for what might happen. Even as he thought that his heart squeezed painfully, and tears pricked the backs of his eyelids. I can’t think about it now. “I fear your daughter has been kidnapped by a serial killer from the cases she and I have been investigating.”

Lord Nattingly’s face purpled with rage. “I knew allowing her to muck about in a trade, with reporting, would see her in something like this. We should have forbidden it.”

William snorted. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but telling Francesca she can’t do something will only ensure that she will, indeed, do it. I’ve learned that about her these last two weeks.” And if he lost her because she’d been part of his investigations…

The viscountess frowned while William narrowed his eyes on the man. “Now is not the time to discuss Fanny’s life choices.”

“Indeed.” He nodded. “We need to marshal our forces and make a plan, for I will find her, and I’ll kill the person who took her.”

And he hoped to God he’d be in time.

“From all Fanny has said about your career, I have no doubts you’ll succeed.” Lady Nattingly nodded. She laid a hand on her husband’s arm to stay him. “If I can help, let me know.” A faint blush colored her overly pale cheeks. “Fanny told me this morning that she intended to bring you up to scratch tonight, and I could see how besotted she is by you.”

Heat infused his neck. It spilled into his face. He didn’t wish to discuss his private matters with her parents just now. That was for another time if—when—he found Francesca and brought her back safely. “Be that as it may, Lady Nattingly, do you recall in your extensive knowledge, the neighborhood where Lord Pursely used to call home before coming into the title?”

The viscountess tapped a finger to her chin. Worry lines creased her brow. “I can’t be certain without having the book in front of me for confirmation, but I think I remember something about him residing in a neighborhood near the Covent Garden area. Perhaps near the East End. He ran a butcher shop or something of the sort, and was moderately successful at it, but he jumped at the chance to improve his lot when that distant cousin died.”

“I suppose no one can blame him,” William murmured. He handed Lady Nattingly the reticule after extracting the notebook. “You should probably keep this safe.” He took the slipper from the bag and tucked it into the interior pocket of his jacket. “She’ll need this, however.”

Sour bile once more rose in William’s throat as the horror sank in. The slashing wounds that had spilled the victims’ guts and spoke of a knowledge of the craft. No doubt the butcher shop was where they were all killed before dumped. “Miss Newton is unhinged and dangerous.” He cleared his throat when a wad of emotion stuck there. “I need to go. Every minute is a delay.”

Lord Nattingly nearly folded in on himself. He took one of William’s hands and shook it. “Please bring my little girl back alive.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, my lord.” Please God, let him be successful. “Please go home. I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

Once the couple left the corridor, Andrew nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

“While I appreciate the offer, I’m declining.”

“You don’t have the authority.” His cousin’s chest swelled in preparation for a fight.

“No, I don’t, but consider this. You’re to be a father soon. Please don’t tempt fate by putting yourself into potential danger.” He used the pencil nub tucked into the pages to scribble a note on an empty page. Then he thrust the notebook into Andrew’s hand. “Have this sent to Chief Inspector Pryce at this address.” Quickly, he wrote it out at the bottom of his note. “I’m certain he’ll send other officers to my aid.”

Andrew’s eyes went dark and stormy. “I don’t like staying behind and knowing you’ll no doubt have a fight ahead of you.”

“I apologize, but you have the whole world at your feet, Cousin. I can’t in good conscience let you put that in jeopardy.”

“So do you, though you refuse to see that right now.” Andrew’s voice softened. “Loving Miss Bancroft might cloud your judgment while dealing with the killer. Stay sharp and focused so you may eventually claim your lady.”

“I will.” Emotions assailed him, least of all the icy fingers of fear as they played his spine. “If I’m unable to save her… If she’s already dead or mortally wounded, I…” He couldn’t bear to finish the thought let alone think it.

“Chances are high you’ll arrive in time. Don’t killers like to play cat and mouse with their intended victims before dispatching?” When William grunted, Andrew offered a comforting grin. “Besides, Miss Bancroft will make certain she doesn’t succumb without putting up some sort of a fight. She’s grown a backbone since going about Town with you. Put your faith in that.”

“I hope you’re right.” But the words did offer a modicum of calm. He curled his fingers around the hair comb until the tiny teeth bit into his palm. Afraid he’d break the bauble, he tucked it carefully into his waistcoat pocket. “I appreciate your support.” William extended a hand, and as his cousin shook it, he added, “Miss Newton will know what the sting of a storm feels like before this is all over.”

“That’s the spirit.” Andrew clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Doesn’t everyone in London know by now not to tangle with a Storme?”

“Apparently not, but they soon will. Send that to Pryce as soon as you can, and please, take Sarah home immediately. I’d rather her be safe, and you as well. I’ll update you when I’m able.” Then, with his stomach in knots and his heart aching like a demon, he ran down the corridor toward the entry hall.

*

The East Endof London hosted some of the most notorious neighborhoods imaginable. In the dark of midnight, the narrow, twisted streets were even more menacing, as were the inhabitants. William had rolled down his window in the carriage as the driver drove in and out, up and down the collection of streets in an effort to find every damned butcher shop in the area.

As of yet, the four they’d discovered had been locked up tight without any sign of activity.


Tags: Sandra Sookoo The Storme Brothers Historical