Hating himself but knowing this was the only way to end the standoff, William held out a hand. “Give me the knife, Miriam. I’ve waited so long for you to be mine.” With every passing second, pieces of his soul fell from his person, for Francesca choked and dangled from that damned chain. Her life was slipping away while he had to play this idiotic game with a murderess.
“So have I, ever since that day in front of Whitehall.” Miss Newton came to him. She put the handle of her knife into his palm and then threw her arms around his shoulders. There were stars in her eyes as she peered up at him. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll surprise me.”
“Me either.” With one eye on Francesca with his heart in his throat and every beat of his pulse crying out her name, he embraced Miss Newton, went so far as to press his lips to hers, but in that second when she surrendered to him, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of knife and then plunged the blade deep into her chest, shoving it through her ribcage until it had gone to the hilt. He hoped the knife had at least hit a lung or even her heart. A swift death was the only fitting end for her.
Miss Newton’s cry of surprise and rage blended with Francesca’s struggles to breathe. Time was of the essence, and he didn’t much care what happened to Miss Newton now. Blood dribbled from her mouth while her eyes reflected shock. He released his hold on her, and as she slipped to the floor, William loped across the room to the wheel. Using the crank on one side, he hurriedly reversed the chain’s direction until Fanny’s feet were firmly on the floor.
“Francesca!” He ran to her just as her knees gave out and she slumped, the chain around her neck going taut once more. Her face was red, almost purple, and her eyes were closed. “Please don’t leave me.” William caught her into his arms and easily lifted her chain off the meat hook. Soaked in Miss Newton’s blood and out of his mind with worry for Francesca, he sank to the floor as she gasped for breath.
Quickly, he removed the chain from about her neck. It fell to the concrete with a jarring jangle. Ignoring her bound wrists for the moment, he cradled her in his lap. “Please talk to me. Let me know you’ll be all right.” As long as she continued to breathe there was a chance she’d survive.
Her head lolled against his shoulder. Already, ugly purple bruises were forming on the ivory skin of her neck. The slash marks between her clavicle bones oozed blood as did the longer stab wounds at her side and abdomen. His nostrils were filled with the metallic scent of the evidence of violence. And still he watched her face for any signs of movement—of life.
“Francesca, please.” William pressed his lips to her forehead. His arms shook. His heart trembled. “Open your eyes and look at me. The danger is over. Miss Newton is dead.” Or at least on her way to dying. He darted a glance to the body on the floor not ten feet away. The madwoman had fallen on her side; the knife he’d stabbed her with remained lodged in her chest. A pool of dark red blood grew wider beneath her.
Yes, she was most certainly dead. Thank God. Her reign of terror was over. The outstanding cases were closed.
Not knowing what else to do, William gently untied the rope from around Francesca’s wrists. He massaged her hands to encourage a return of circulation. Finally, he kept vigil, listening to her too-shallow rasping, watched the slight rise and fall of her chest. Moisture welled in his eyes. Had he lost her when he’d only just found her? Tears fell to his cheeks. A few dropped upon her gown; the once-pretty shades of blue he would always associate with her. An ache radiated around his heart, beyond any pain he’d ever known before.
“Don’t die on me,” he whispered and gently brushed the escaped locks of chestnut hair from her face. The one mother of pearl comb clung heroically to those tresses. “I love you, Francesca. I need you in my life, now and forever. And I should have told you sooner…”
He didn’t know how long he sat with her limp form in his lap, his arms around her as his tears freely fell, but eventually, her color returned to normal, if paler than usual. Her eyelids fluttered. She stirred ever so slightly against his shoulder. Then, those beautiful eyes opened, and it was as if the heavens poured their light upon him.
“William…” His name in her voice was small, strained, but never had he heard a more wonderful sound. She focused on his face. “You’re bleeding.” Then she lifted a hand to his chin. Blood came away on her glove, and her hand flopped back down.
“In quite a few places, darling.” Oh, he wanted to shout his joy from the rooftops of London, but instead he opted to hold her close. “As are you.”
“There is pain. So much.” The whispered words pulled at his heart. She pressed a hand to her throat. “Hurts to talk.”
No doubt it did. That maniac had attempted to strangle her a few times. “Then don’t. Just listen. All right?” When she nodded, he took a handful of her gown and pressed it against the stab wound on her abdomen. At her hiss of pain, he tsked his tongue. “The danger is over. Miss Newton is dead. She can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
Francesca kept her gaze glued to his face. “Nearly killed me.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Terrified.” No longer did she hiccup. Perhaps being nearly hung had banished them.
“I know. And it’s because of me you’re here at all.” He’d known better than to let a woman into his life, to involve himself personally—to fall in love—but it had happened. “It’s dangerous for you to be with me.”
“No.” She gasped out the word. No doubt her vocal cords had been taxed. “I knew the risks. We’re partners.” The whisper tugged at his soul, called all the pieces back together again despite his fear. “Knew you would come.”
“I tried my best. And I retrieved your grandmother’s comb.”
Her eyelids flickered. “Thank you.”
“I’d do anything for you.” He touched one of the bruises on her neck, frowning when she uttered an anemic whimper. “What I said to Miss Newton…” The lie pressed upon his heart. “None of it was true. I only said it so she’d let down her guard, so I could finally have an advantage…”
“Shh.” Again, she lifted her hand and held it against the side of his cheek. “I suspected that.” Her labored breathing caused his heart to squeeze with fear. Would she survive? “You solved the cases.”
“No, you solved them. After you were taken, I delved through your notes from the crime scenes. The answers were there, and without your help, I never would have found you in time.” Panic from the situation crashed with worry within his chest. “Never let anyone tell you that who you are isn’t wonderful.”
“William…” Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
He lifted a hand and placed it against hers, pressing it tighter to his cheek. “I love you, Francesca. Please don’t leave me now that I’ve realized how much I need you in my life.”
Pleasure lit her eyes. “I won’t.” She sagged against his chest. “So tired.”
Concern pulsed through his veins. If she slept, would she awaken later, or would she slip into a coma? “I’ll get you home as soon as I can. Your parents are worried.” Even as he spoke, the sound of frantic shouting filled the front room of the butcher’s shop.
A faint smile curved her lips. Her hand fell back to the side. “Love you…”
“I know.” As a contingent from Bow Street burst into the frozen room, he leaned over her and pressed his lips to hers. “We’ll talk later.” Then he plunged a hand into the interior pocket of his jacket and retrieved her slipper. “You’ll need this, not that I’ll let you walk out of here.”