Chapter Two
“Inspector O’Brien, you must come right away, sir! There’s been a murder!”
Quinn O’Brien looked up from his desk to find Randall Pond, a fresh-faced constable, in his office doorway. He sighed, his hopes of actually going home before dark vanishing like smoke in the wind, as they often did. Standing, he reached for his wool overcoat, shrugging into it as he grabbed his bowler hat. “Details, Pond.”
Pond led him to the front desk of J Division headquarters, where a handsome, dark-haired young man wearing the livery of a powerful house paced back and forth in the lobby. Quinn’s eyes narrowed as recognition hit him.
“Are you employed by the Earl of Hawkesmere?” he demanded, striding toward the young man, irritation mounting within him. He’d done Hawkesmere too many favors already. He wasn’t the earl’s own personal policeman, but the bastard always sent for him whenever something went awry. And it seemed that things went wrong for the earl and his family more often than they should.
The young man stopped and spun to face him. “Yes, sir. My name is Joseph Baker. I was sent here by Lady Allison—”
“Lady Allison?” Quinn’s irritation immediately turned to worry. “Did something happen at Mercy House?”
Joseph nodded, seeming relieved that Quinn had immediately known what he was talking about. “One of the girls there... I didn’t see it myself, sir, but someone killed her. Lady Allison says she was ripped up something fierce.” He paled. “Do you think it’s the Ripper, back to haunt our streets once again?”
Heads immediately turned in their direction, and Quinn impaled Joseph with a glare. “No, I do not. It’s been more than a decade since... that business. And it never happened in Bethnal Green.” He turned back to Pond. “Gather every available man, Pond. Have them meet us at Mercy House.”
“What’s going on?” Sergeant Sebastian Ness asked, coming up beside Quinn just as he was giving the order. The tall, dark-haired sergeant was a former military man two years Quinn’s senior. Quinn trusted him as he did few others.
“We’re off to Mercy House,” Quinn told his second-in-command grimly. “There’s been a murder.”
“Bloody hell,” Sebastian muttered, turning to organize the men, but Quinn was already striding out of the station, nearly running in the direction of Mercy House, which was only four blocks to the north.
Bloody hell is right. That damned girl...
Ever since Lady Allison Croft had opened Mercy House, he’d feared there would eventually be trouble. He’d tried to warn her, but she was a headstrong little thing who never listened to anybody, let alone a lowly police officer.
Now there’d been a murder, and she’d seen the gruesome aftermath. Allison had already been through enough in her young life. How would such a gently bred young woman ever get over such a thing? Violent death was common for the people who lived in this neighborhood but not near the lofty address of her brother, the earl.
Determined footsteps behind him made him glance over his shoulder warily, only to find the footman hot on his trail. “You needn’t come with me,” he snapped.
“I must, sir,” Joseph retorted. “The earl put Lady Allison in my charge. I can’t let anything happen to her. The earl would have my head. I didn’t want to leave her there alone, but she insisted.”
Quinn nodded sharply, knowing firsthand how overbearing the earl could be. “Just stay out of the way once we get there.”
How long had it been since he’d seen Lady Allison? Not since the grand opening of Mercy House a little over a year ago. He winced, realizing how often he thought of her, though. Annoying and frustrating as she might be, she was also lovely, intelligent, fun... He forced himself to stop his thoughts cold.
They’d shared one trip across the Channel. Five years ago. She probably never thought of him at all.
But she sent for me when she was in trouble.
He tried not to let that thought warm him too much. He was probably the only police officer she knew. This was his jurisdiction. He mustn’t read anything into it at all.
Up ahead, he could see a crowd already gathering around Mercy House, and he groaned inwardly, knowing the uniformed constables were still several minutes behind him. “Help me keep these people out,” he instructed Joseph as they reached the edge of the crowd.
Angry murmuring rose around him as he strode to the front of the house. “Police. Make way,” he demanded, flashing his warrant card, his gaze fixated on the beautiful young woman sitting in a graceless, unladylike heap on the front steps, her head buried in her hands.
At the sound of his voice, Lady Allison looked up, her lovely blue eyes filled with tears. “Inspector O’Brien,” she cried, scrambling to her feet. “You came.”
“Of course,” he murmured, surprised when she threw herself into his arms. “This is my division.” For half a minute, he allowed himself to hold her, his face buried in the fragrant cloud of her blond hair, remembering a time on the Channel crossing when she’d also cried in his arms.
But too many eyes were watching, and he had a job to do. Reluctantly, he pried her off him, staring down into her delicate face, wondering why he still carried a torch for her, the daughter of a bloody earl, after all these years.
She’s not for you. She’ll never be for you.
“Tell me what happened,” he said, guiding her into the entryway of Mercy House, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. She always dressed plainly when she went about her good works, but from her bearing alone, one could see that she’d been born of noble blood, and the people outside would have enough to gossip about when this was all said and done.
She went even paler and shook her head. “Polly didn’t come home last night, didn’t show up for work either—”