“Like a prince.” She gave him a tiny giggle before her head nodded and she went unconscious.
“Good God, Inspector Storme, it’s a wonder you’re alive.” Chief Inspector Pryce looked about the room with his hands planted on his hips. Agents gathered inside and two of them made way for the coroner. “Are you wounded?”
“Oh, yes. No doubt I’ll need the services of a surgeon, as will Miss Bancroft.” Quickly and in a soft voice, he gave his superior an account of what had occurred since he’d arrived at the butcher shop. “Miss Newton confessed to the killings. She showed no remorse. All because she was husband hunting and had a vicious jealous streak.”
“London grows more bizarre with each passing year.” The chief inspector glanced at Miss Newton’s dead body. “You’re going to have nightmares.”
“When do I not?” Nothing mattered except seeing to Francesca’s care. “Help me with her, please. My carriage is outside. She needs a doctor immediately. I’m not certain she’ll survive being nearly strangled three times.”
“Indeed.” He bent and took Francesca into his arms. “I wasn’t thrilled when you brought along a woman to help your investigations, but she’s more than proved herself. Has pluck, this one.” The man met William’s eye as he struggled to his feet with a groan of pain. “I hope you’ll invite me to the wedding.”
He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he grinned as the idea took root in his mind. “Don’t rush my fences for me, Pryce. I haven’t yet asked her.”
“You’re well-suited.” The chief inspector led the way from the back room. “I think you’ll be good for each other.”
Every step was agony, thanks to the wounds in his leg. “Perhaps.” William’s hand shook as they gained the street and he swung open the carriage door. “However, I’ll ask your permission now. I’d like to secure her assistance on future cases. Once she’s fully healed, of course.”
“And after your wedding trip?” Amusement threaded through his voice. “Yes, I rather like having a member of the press representing Bow Street and willing to paint us in a favorable light for a change.”
A wave of relief slammed into him. “Thank you. I’ll keep you informed on all fronts.”
“You solved the cases, Storme. Take as much time as you need to recuperate. I’ll call in a day or so.”
“I will, sir.” William settled himself in the carriage and then assisted when the chief inspector settled Francesca onto the bench next to him. He cradled her head in his lap. “Thank you.”
Pryce nodded. “I’ll finish up here. No doubt this will be gossip for a week once it breaks.”
William shrugged. “Let everyone talk. It matters not to me.” Francesca was alive and she loved him. What more did a man need?