Violet tread carefully through her newfound happiness, lest it vanish like dew under too bright a sunbeam. It had been a very long time since she last felt anything close to it, and she didn’t trust it. Not that she didn’t trust Alex, of course. He maintained his usual, indefinable aristocratic mien in public, but when they were in private—either alone or just with family—he was open and, at times, silly. He revealed an absurd sense of humor Violet would never have guessed he had, making her laugh till she hurt.
Even Millie lost her serious attitude around Alex now. Violet watched the two of them, noticing how much Millie modeled her own behavior on Alex’s…cool when he was cool, smiling when he was smiling. Alex was probably more of a father figure to Millie than he suspected, and Violet was grateful for it.
Now if only she could give Alex a child of his own. The thought had been weighing on her more heavily over the past few weeks, though she knew it was far too early to wonder if she would have difficulty carrying a child. What if she was too old? Or just barren? What if she’d fail at the one duty she was expected to carry out as duchess?
“What’s the matter?”
Violet jumped at the sound of Alex’s voice. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t heard him come into the parlor where she was reading.
“Oh! Nothing.”
“You looked quite troubled over nothing,” Alex countered. He sat down in the chair across from hers. “What’s on your mind?”
“In three days,” she said, thinking quickly, “the sun will pass into a new sign.”
“I know.” He cursed under his breath. “That means I have to return to London. I was putting it off,” he added. “I didn’t want to leave the Abbey…or you.”
“Well, I’ll come with you.”
He paused. “You’d be safer here.”
“But not as useful,” Violet argued. “It’s just a matter of being careful. And I really believe I can help.” She smiled at him. “Please.”
“All right,” he said. “Having you closer might help me think.”
* * * *
When they reached London the next day, both Alex and Violet found a stack of invitations and letters waiting for them, having accumulated while they’d been gone.
Violet picked up one invitation, contemplating it. “My aunt is persistent, I’ll give her that.”
“She was certainly persistent when it came to arranging the marriage,” Alex noted. “What does she want from you this time?”
“One of her ridiculous astrology meetings. She’s been pestering me to join her.”
“Her and your uncle?”
“No, Uncle Roger wouldn’t bother to come, and Judith never encouraged him to.” Violet remembered Aunt Judith’s friend Mr Hanchett and thought she could guess why. “But she wants me to join the fold.”
“But she knows you’re a skeptic, doesn’t she?”
“There’s a vast gulf between someone telling Aunt Judith something and her actually hearing it,” Violet said, rolling her eyes. “She thinks I’ll be convinced once I go.”
“Well, go once and prove otherwise,” Alex suggested. “Sometimes that’s the best way.”
“You told me you preferred that I not see my aunt.”
“I was probably overreacting,” he said. “You’re not responsible for her foibles, and she is family. What harm could it do, other than being a little tedious?”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
Thus, Violet did the previously unthinkable and wrote to her aunt that she would attend the party the next evening. She had no doubt her aunt would faint when she received the message.
* * * *
While Violet was occupied with her family, Alex enlisted help to solve a problem that had been gnawing at him ever since he heard Millie’s idea about Violet’s “admirer.” What if the snake had nothing to do with the murders, but rather that offensive wager he heard about?
He contacted Lord Forester again, and explained the issue. Bruce declared that they’d have to go deeper into the demimonde to get real answers. So he and Alex met that evening, and Bruce led him to another establishment in the city.
This place was decidedly less stuffy than some of Alex’s clubs. In fact, it was on the edge of scandalous, a place where wealthy men could find diversions of all types. Whether it was gambling, women, or other forms of vice, a discreet payment was all that was needed.
Alex hadn’t been in this type of place for years, unless his work took him there. He forgot how seamy it could be. The light was low, thanks to guttering candles, and tobacco smoke hung thickly in the air.
Bruce led Alex through room after room, seeking someone in particular.
“Ah,” he said finally. “That’s who we’re here to meet.” Bruce gestured to another man standing several feet away, accompanied by a beautiful woman in a rich yellow gown. The similarity between the two men was not obvious at first, but it was there. The other man had the same black hair and dark eyes as Bruce, though his features were more regular. He wasn’t nearly as tall, nor as big. Bruce used his size to get what he wanted; this man didn’t have to.
When they reached him, Bruce said, “My brother, the Honorable Ashley Allander.”
Smirking, the other man offered a hand. “He left out the ‘disreputable, younger brother’ this time.” He grinned at Alex. “A pleasure to meet you, your grace.”
“You, as well, regardless of the setting,” Alex said.
“Ah. Forester may not have told you that I have a most scandalous reputation.”
“I don’t have to, Ash,” Bruce broke in sourly. “All of London knows about you.”
“Lord, I hope so,” Ash said carelessly. “I spend enough time tarnishing the family name. Be a shame if nothing came of it.” He then turned to his companion, and his expression, though still sly, softened a bit. “I trust you’re both acquainted with the incomparable Miss Fox.”
“I have not yet had the pleasure of making the personal acquaintance of the duke,” the lady in the golden gown said. She smiled warmly at Alex, dipping her head in acknowledgement. “Your grace.”
“Miss Fox,” he returned, unable to keep from smiling back. Regina Fox was a courtesan, notorious throughout London and beyond, with the talent for charming nearly any man. “You need no introduction.”
She laughed prettily, with a slight edge of sadness that made the sound even more enchanting. “You are kind to say so, your grace. May I congratulate you on your recent marriage?”
“You may,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Tied the knot again?” Ash asked, with considerably less reverence. “Brave of you.”
He let the multiple meanings of his words sink in, not caring in the least who he might insult.
Regina made a face at him. “Lord, Ash. You’re terrible.”
“As advertised.” He looked at Alex, then over at Bruce. “Are you gentlemen just enjoying the various delights of the city, or was there a particular item to discuss?”
“Yes,” Alex said. But he couldn’t form words, once again furious at the situation.
Bruce broke in, seeing his difficulty. “The issue is this.” He told about the wager on Violet’s life, and how high the stakes seemed to have risen.
Ash looked coldly at his brother. All mannerisms of the carefree playboy were gone. “That’s disgusting,” he said. “You actually think I’d wager on such a thing?”
“I didn’t mean to imply you bet on her death,” Bruce explained hurriedly. “I hoped merely that you might know the sort of places where such a pool might exist. Places that would take one look and shut us out immediately.”
“I need to know who’s involved,” Alex added.
The flinty look in Ash’s eyes retreated a bit. “Well, as a matter of fact, you’re right. I do know of some places. Benefit of my dissolute life.” He paused. “I’ll ask around.”
“I’d be grateful for whatever information you could find,” Alex said, his voice tight.
“I expect you would be.” Ash suddenly laughed. “What exactly do you need to know? Just the name of the bookmaker?”
“Yes, but mostly so I can shake him down to get the names of the bettors, and the dates of death they chose.”
“Matter of honor? Offended some men would make a profit over bad luck?”
“Someone doesn’t seem content to leave it to luck.” Alex explained, very briefly, how the krait appeared in the house and the danger it brought with it. Regina let out a gasp of horror when she heard, and even Ash’s expression turned sympathetic.
“Well, that’s not very sporting,” he said, though his light tone sounded forced this time. “I’ll do what I can, then bring the information to Bruce, who can pass it to you. No sense sullying a man’s good reputation with rumors of my company.”
“Bring it to me directly,” said Alex. “What’s one more rumor around my name?”
Ash grinned. “Very well, if you insist. And I promise to not sell it for profit first.”
“Ash,” Bruce began.
“Let’s not get into a discussion about family honor,” Ash said, forestalling him. “We all know that you’re the brother with all the good qualities, leaving the rest to me. Just as well you get the title, too!” He offered an arm to Regina, who slipped her hand around it, just as ladylike as could be.
“Well, we’re off,” Ash drawled. “Detecting to do, and all that. What very exciting lives you gentlemen must lead…whatever it is you really do.” With that rather too perceptive comment, Ash left the room, the incomparable Miss Fox beside him.
Alex watched them go. “Will he look, do you think?”
Bruce nodded. “Ash talks like a hedonist, but he’s more reliable than he pretends. So is Miss Fox, for that matter. He’ll do his best to find answers…if only because he wants to confound expectations.”
“I hope he finds them soon.”
* * * *
Violet wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of formality, so on the night of the party her aunt invited her to, she had Dalby dress her in an understated gown of midnight blue wool. She wore a simple strand of pearls at her throat, avoiding any of the extravagant jewels she now owned.
When she arrived at the house, she told the driver to wait. She certainly didn’t want to be stuck if the mood of the gathering made her uncomfortable or would reflect badly on her.
But inside the home, there was little to distinguish the gathering from any other small party in London that night. If anything, it was a little on the dull side. A dozen people stood about and chatted. Wine glasses clinked in the candlelight, and the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter. Only the odd phrase jumped out at Violet, reminding her that this was not quite a normal gathering. Talk of signs and the coming of the serpent made her shiver, but it was otherwise quite innocuous.
She met almost everyone there within the first quarter hour. Most were dazzled by her title, but a few guests were gentry as well, so it was an illustrious company. The surprisingly young Mr Frobisher was the host, and he seemed anxious that everyone enjoyed themselves. He spoke to everyone, his expression earnest. Someone told Violet that John Frobisher was until recently an officer in the army. He’d sold his commission a few years ago, intent on finding a less martial path in life. Looking at his broad frame and ramrod straight posture, it was easy to picture him in a uniform.
If Frobisher was the host, Mr Hanchett was clearly the center of the group. When he spoke, others listened. He took several people aside, into a little study, for a few moments each.
“What’s happening in there?” she asked her aunt.
“Oh, Mr Hanchett is drawing up star charts of everyone for the month.”
“Is he?”
At that moment, the dark-haired man emerged with a guest and caught Judith’s eye. She took Violet by the arm. “Come. It’s your turn. How exciting!”
Violet wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know what Hanchett saw in the skies for her, but she trailed along.
“Come in, your grace,” Mr Hanchett said. He stood up, his broad shoulders and courtly manner making him appear noble. “Mrs Peake will wait outside.”
“My aunt will remain with me,” Violet said firmly. “I insist.” The idea of being alone with Mr Hanchett repelled her.
“It is customarily between the reader and the querent,” he said.
“If it is a star chart,” said Violet, “then literally anyone can see my fate. My aunt remains, or I go.”
“Very well.” He cast a look to Judith, who looked quite pleased to stay. “I have taken the liberty of drawing up your chart, based on the birthday provided by your aunt.”
“And it reveals what is to occur in the near future?” she asked.
“This star chart does, because I have plotted out the movement and the location of the planets according to my own—secret—calculations. No other astrologer will be able to match it precisely. That is the great advantage of being a member of the Society of the True Sky.”
“That’s why Daniel is always correct in his prognostications,” Judith began.
But he silenced her with a look. “I must tell you, your grace, that you were destined to come here tonight.”
Easy prediction to make once she was here, Violet thought. But she said, “And I am here. What next?”
“It is vital that you listen to my next words, your grace. The stars do not lie, and there is a great darkness hovering over you. Your marriage was predicted by the rising of Venus in the sign of Gemini, and as predicted, it came to pass. But your husband is concealing something from you, which could destroy your marriage.”
Violet frowned at Hanchett. Did the man really think he could frighten her with these vague implications? She could tell that he wanted her to gasp and beg to know more, using her presumed insecurity to convince her of his methods.
“That is a bold claim,” she said.
“It is not my claim, but that of the stars.”
“What is he hiding? A mistress?” Violet remembered the conversation she had with Alex about it. She believed him when he said he didn’t have one. But if she hadn’t dared to ask…well, that was an easy point to touch in a wife’s consciousness. She also couldn’t stop the tiniest doubt. What if Alex had lied to her? She had known him for such a short time.
“A mistress? Nothing so mundane,” Hanchett assured her. “It is stranger and graver than that.”
“What, then?”
“He is haunted, your grace. Haunted by a past that will not let him go. And that past will most certainly seize him and take him from you beginning when the Great Warrior is ascendant.” Hanchett tapped another constellation. “There will be nothing you can do to save him.”
“Then why tell me?” she asked.
“Because you can do something now. You must join our society. If you listen to the stars’ plans carefully, and follows the proper path, both you and he may avoid the darkness. You can live in peace and happiness.”
“How reassuring.” Hanchett didn’t appear to notice her sarcasm. He tapped a point on her chart where several lines crossed. “The moon is now passing into Libra, both bodies highly significant of water and sleep. Your sleepless nights and restless dreams will cease if you divest yourself of the doubts you carry.” He handed her a small bottle. “This is water charged with the power of the full moon. Drink three drops in wine every night before bed for the next seven nights. By the seventh night, your sleep will be like a child’s again.”
Violet took the little bottle, thinking Judith must have told Hanchett of Violet’s insomnia. And he gave her this ridiculous, false medicine to cure it.
Unless it was meant to kill her instead. Violet recalled the krait. Someone did want her dead, after all. Perhaps this was another attempt.
But Hanchett only rolled up Violet’s star chart and gave it to her. “You may study it as much as you wish, your grace. If you have a question, simply send for me and I will answer it.”
“Thank you,” she said. At least the star chart was something she could verify to see if the man knew where the planets should be in the night sky!
When Violet left the study, Judith followed, anxious to ask her what she thought of Hanchett’s words.
But Violet thought quickly enough to distract her aunt.
Susanna Gilroy sat on a chaise in the corner, looking even frailer than she had the last time Violet had seen her. Frobisher hovered near her, having just fetched a warm throw, which she accepted with a soft thanks. Then he reluctantly left to speak to someone at the door.
“Are they betrothed?” Violet asked Judith, hoping the question would work as distraction.
“I don’t think so,” Judith replied. “He is most assiduous when near her, though. They met last year. Mr Frobisher invited her to our gatherings. She’s come every time,” Judith added with approval.
“She’s ill, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but she keeps her spirits high, and she does not give up. Fate will smile on her. I’ve no doubt she’ll recover completely!”
Violet saw the fragile way Susanna moved, and the disturbingly pale tone in her cheeks. She didn’t have Judith’s confidence that Susanna would triumph over whatever sickness plagued her.
Drawn to the other woman, Violet approached her. “May I sit by you?” she asked.
“Oh, your grace, I would be honored,” Susanna said. “Your aunt has told me so much about you. She is so happy you’re here tonight.”
“Yes, I imagine,” Violet said dryly. But then she smiled at Susanna. “It sounds as if you don’t miss a meeting.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Why not? The stars still spin, regardless of whether we leave the house or not.”
Susanna put a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. “That’s a little blasphemous.”
“Is it? Do I apologize to the stars? Or Mr Frobisher?”
“Oh, he’s not the leader. We don’t have a leader, as such.”
“Mr Hanchett once called himself a leader.”
“Mr Hanchett is, of course, very important to our society’s success,” Susanna said, though it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. “He’s the most accomplished at the star charts, and he’s just uncanny when telling the future. But we avoid titles when among believers. We are all under the same sky, are we not?”
“Indisputably. Are you very interested in…all this?” Violet waved her hand to indicate the party.
“I want to know the future,” Susanna said. Her eyes tracked Mr Frobisher, who was on the other side of the room. “I used to lie awake at night, so scared of what would happen. Then I met these people, and learned how to reveal some of the future. It helps me.”
“I have trouble sleeping, myself,” Violet said.
Susanna reached out to touch Violet’s arm. “Then you must tell Mr Hanchett! He’ll draw up your chart, and tell you what to expect. It’s ever so comforting.”
“He just told me his conclusions,” Violet admitted. “What did he tell you, if I may ask?”
“To be patient. To have faith.” The lady’s eyes were again on Frobisher. “The future belongs to those who grasp the serpent unflinching.”
The quote echoed one that Judith used frequently, but Violet remembered something older, something her father told her once. What had he said about a serpent? She struggled to recall the words, but then saw someone approaching.
“Mr Frobisher is coming over here again,” Violet noted. “Shall I leave you alone?”
“Oh, you must get to know him,” Susanna said. “He’s very kind.”
Mr Frobisher was quite happy to speak with Violet, though he was more interested in Susanna. He never dared to touch the lady, but it was clear that he hung on her every word.
After a few moments, Susanna sagged back against her chair, coughing weakly. “Excuse me, I’ve spoken too much.”
Frobisher said quickly, “Can I get you anything?”
“I need a few moments’ rest. Why not take her grace for a turn? I’ll feel much better in a bit.”
So Frobisher rose and offered to escort Violet around the gardens. She accepted, hoping to speak to her host alone for a minute.
“Miss Gilroy is such a charming lady,” she said, once they stepped out of the house.
“She is a jewel,” he agreed, his blue eyes catching the light from the house. “And possessed of such perfect faith.”
“In the stars?”
“In the stars’ plan for us all,” he said, vehemently. “The music of the spheres is always there—”
“—for those who listen.” Violet finished the half-remembered phrase she heard her father say so many years ago. Odd how everything was coming back to her now.
Frobisher beamed at her. “Exactly. I can see why Mrs Peake wanted you to join us. She says you have studied the stars for years on your own.”
“In my way,” Violet said modestly. “As my father taught me to.”
“Mrs Peake’s brother, correct?” Frobisher seemed well informed. “Of course the whole family would be enlightened. You are very lucky, your grace.”
She thought of Alex and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I am. But I wonder, sir, if you could tell me a bit more about your Society of the True Sky. I am very curious about what you hope to accomplish.”
“Has Mr Hanchett not said?”
“Not yet. We have not had much chance to speak. But I know of the serpent handler.” She added the last phrase in almost unconsciously. That’s what her father spoke of! Perhaps the mention of it would make Frobisher think she knew far more than she did.
It worked better than she expected. Frobisher stopped and turned toward her. “You know about Ophiuchus?”
“Of course,” she said. “I remember my father’s words quite clearly.” His half-mad words, spat out on his deathbed. But she didn’t add that.
“Daniel—Mr Hanchett, that is—will be most impressed. Only the most devoted learn about the thirteenth sign.”
“You obviously know, so you proved your devotion.”
His expression changed to one of worry. “I can only try. As do we all. Just as I work to keep Susanna’s spirits up. She’s been so downcast lately. I won’t say she’s a doubter, but…” he trailed off.
“It must be very hard for her,” Violet said sympathetically. “With such an illness to contend with. It would try any person. At least she has you. You clearly care for her.”
Frobisher actually looked bashful. The expression was charming, turning the big man into an overgrown boy. “She is—”
“A jewel.” Violet echoed his word from before.
“Yes. I hope someday—”
Before he could add anything, they were interrupted by the sounds of another couple approaching them. The laughter and low, confidential tones made it sound like a pair of youngsters, so Violet’s eyes widened when she saw Judith and Mr Hanchett turn the corner. Hanchett was holding Judith scandalously close to him, and his lips were brushing her ear in a way that made both Violet and Frobisher stiffen in shared embarrassment at what they witnessed.
“Hello, Aunt,” Violet said.
“Violet!” Judith gasped and stepped away. “I didn’t know you were outside!”
“Mr Frobisher was kind enough to take me for a turn about the gardens. Just as Mr Hanchett did for you, I assume.”
“Yes, yes of course. Daniel…Mr Hanchett is most…ah.”
“Words fail me as well.” Before her marriage, Violet would not have dreamed she could speak like that to her aunt. Indeed, she had been so sheltered that she wouldn’t dream of a lady being with any man but the one she married. But now, Violet knew quite a bit more about both herself and the world. And she no longer feared Judith’s wrath.
“The hour is getting rather late,” Violet said then. “I think I should call my carriage.”
“You must stay for the ceremony, your grace,” Hanchett said.
Violet didn’t try to hide her disgust. The nerve of the man, to think she’d linger. “Oh, I’m quite sure of my immediate future, and it involves a carriage home.” She turned to Mr Frobisher. “Would you please walk me to the front hall? And then you should return to Miss Gilroy. You can convey my goodbyes to her.”
“Indeed, your grace.” Frobisher gave a look to the other couple, one that was both disturbed and rather offended. But he said nothing about it until they reached the front hall.
“I hope, your grace,” he said carefully, “I hope you will return for the next gathering, regardless of… That is…” He was plainly appalled at the scene.
“I will consider it, Mr Frobisher. I did meet some people I’d like to see again.”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s good.”
“Give Miss Gilroy my best,” Violet added when the coach pulled up. “I am sorry she wasn’t feeling well tonight.”
“I will tell her, your grace.” Frobisher helped her inside the carriage. “May you return safely to your home. The streets of London seem more dangerous every month.”
That was all too true, Violet thought as the carriage rolled away toward home. She hoped to talk to Alex about the meeting, but she knew that he was going to be out—likely all night, since he was certain the murderer would strike again.
* * * *
According to Violet’s estimations, the next murder would occur on the fifteenth of April. Thus, Alex made Violet promise that she would be home well before midnight. He didn’t plan on getting home before dawn.
Alex had enlisted some of the Disreputables to help that night. Ivy, the dark-haired girl from before, acted as a sort of supervisor, and Rook was eager to join as well. Through some mechanism Alex wasn’t privy to, Ivy sent various people to the locations Alex thought might attract the killer. He was still guessing, though, and he had a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him he would fail again.
He tried to ignore it as best he could. Ivy got regular updates from the other Disreputables scattered around the city. A young girl of about ten years appeared quite often to give Ivy little slips of paper.
“Thank you, Sally,” she said, opening the latest. She read it, then announced to Alex, “Still no word of a murder. Perhaps our luck will continue.”
“It’s early,” Alex muttered. The bells had just chimed two in the morning. He and Ivy were strolling a section of Hyde Park. Alex chose it as the most likely place.
But in reality, there wasn’t much Alex could do. He just didn’t know enough about the killer. A dark haired, well-built man who was strong enough to keep his victims quiet and drag bodies as far as he wanted to. That could be almost anybody.
Alex needed more. He would prefer not to get that information in the form of another dead body.
“Someone’s coming. Looks like Jem,” Ivy said suddenly.
He straightened up. Someone was hurrying toward them. It was a young man, running toward them from the road where a carriage waited.
“It happened,” he said. “Rook’s still there, keeping an eye on things.”
“Where?” Alex asked.
“Other side of the park, close to the river. I have a rig.”
They reached the scene of the crime minutes later. It was an out of the way spot, unlike the other murders. That helped to keep spectators away, as did the later hour. Only two people stood near the body. One looked like an officer of the law, but the other was the young lad Rook.
Alex chose the direct route, addressing the young officer as if he had every right to do so. “What happened? Report.”
“The boy found a body,” the man said nervously. “I stayed to make sure nothing happened, and sent him to get help… Though he found you?” He looked at Alex, trying to decide who he was.
Alex didn’t let him get far. “Keep everyone else at least thirty feet from the body. There’s four people here. Spread out. Make a square, and don’t let anyone pass. I’ll look at the scene.”
Everyone obeyed, and Alex was free to walk to the body, which had been covered with a coat.
He looked first at the ground around the body. The sign was there: the symbol of Aries drawn in dark blood, just above the head of the body. He expected to see it, but that didn’t make the fact any less horrible. Heavy footprints of a man’s boots were evident, as were the smaller prints of a woman’s shoes.
That was his first hint of the victim. Alex knelt and pulled back the cloak. A woman stared up at the sky above. Hair spilled out around her face, making a fuzzy halo. Alex closed the blue eyes gently. He then pulled the cloak back further. He noticed that the body looked as if it was arranged after the kill. There was no way the woman fell back into such a neat pose, tidily on her back, arms folded over her chest. The other victims were face down, or in a heap.
The killer must have taken some time to arrange the body so neatly and draw his symbol nearby. Why? Because he finally got someone in an out of the way place? Was she special? Was the killer a chivalrous sort? He certainly wasn’t scared of getting caught.
Alex saw a small bag near the body. He looked through it, finding coins and bills undisturbed. He also found a letter, which he put away for the moment. He’d examine it more carefully when he wasn’t bending over the victim.
A quick search of the body revealed only a single knife wound in the chest. At least the lady’s death came fast.
Alex heard a few voices around him, as spectators started to gather. But the officer and the Disreputables did an excellent job of keeping others well away, and the sounds faded once people realized there was nothing much to see.
As Alex was thinking, the officer appeared by his side. “Um, sir?”
“What?” Alex said irritably.
“You’re the one investigating this crime?”
“Appears that way, doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t catch your name, sir.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Alex said coldly. “Your name?”
“Maxwell, sir. Arthur Maxwell.”
“Good. I’ll make sure to mention your good work in keeping the crowd away.”
“What happened?” he asked. “Looks as if she was robbed and killed by a madman.”
“Not robbed. Her reticule is there, with money. And a letter addressed to her, so I know who she is—or I will, once I look further into it.” He cleared his throat. “Did you find the body?”
“No, that lad did.” The officer pointed to Rook. “He called for help.”
“Did anyone actually see the attack?”
“If they did, they didn’t stay.”
Alex grunted. Of course his luck would stay bad on that score. He stood up. “Well, I’ve got plenty of work. Carry on, Maxwell. You know the procedure.”
Rook approached. “I can help!” he said eagerly. “Let me stay, sir!”
“Very well. You can assist Maxwell,” Alex declared, as if he had the authority to deputize the boy. He gestured to Ivy and Jem and started to move off. “You’ll hear from me soon, Maxwell. Good luck.”
Maxwell didn’t dare leave the scene to chase after Alex, who was able to get himself and Ivy to the carriage the young man Jem had been driving.
“I’ll tell the others that there’s nothing left to watch for tonight. And I’ll pass on whatever Rook learns,” Ivy said. “Where are you going, sir?”
“To the address on the letter in her bag,” said Alex. “My work’s not done tonight.”
“I’ll drive you there, sir.” Jem pointed to the carriage. “No time like the present.”