The Sting of a Storme, page 5
“Of course.”
By the time he’d recovered his outerwear and Andrew’s closed carriage was brought around—one door bearing the golden emblem of the Storme crest of a spinning storm with two swords and a spear slicing through it—William’s concentration was fully on his case.
“Address, Inspector?” the driver asked as William wrenched open the door.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say the Brook Gate, but he paused. He’d promised Francesca he’d give her access to this case and let her follow him during the investigation. “Viscount Nattingly’s townhouse, please. We’ll collect someone and then go on to our destination.”
God help him, but this would be a strange courtship indeed. He hoped she had the stomach for what she was about to see.
Chapter Four
Fanny fairly vibrated from excitement. When Inspector Storme showed up at her father’s townhouse around midday, she’d nearly fallen off her chair. It had been days since she’d last seen him and had despaired of him keeping his promise to call.
Not only had he done that, but he’d also asked her to accompany him to a new crime scene, and that had won her admiration more than anything else. Her mother had been in a flutter of delight to talk with the new caller, but William wasn’t in a mood to tarry, so they said their goodbyes quickly, with Fanny declining to take a maid with her.
“Mother, I’m quite certain where we’re going there shouldn’t be a collection of superfluous people standing about,” Fanny had said with a glance at her companion. His slight nod confirmed her theory.
“But, where are you going? I thought the inspector was paying you a social call,” her mother had protested.
“Not today, my lady,” William had responded and said nothing else.
Fanny had laughed. “We’re going to a crime scene, Mother. I’m attending in a journalistic capacity.”
“That’s hardly something a lady of breeding should do,” her mother had said in protest.
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so, but that’s what makes it exciting. Good day!”
She’d left the house in haste.
Now, in a shiny, black carriage that was closed and bore the Earl of Hadleigh’s golden coat-of-arms, the anticipation that buzzed at the base of her spine had her gut churning with restless energy. Nothing this thrilling had ever happened to her before.
“Thank you for this opportunity, Inspector.” She withdrew a small, leatherbound notebook from her reticule as well as the stub of a pencil. “I can’t wait to start your interview as well as see what goes on at a real-life crime scene.” Would there be blood or gore? What did a dead body look like when found? How many other people would gather there?
“It’s William,” he growled from the bench opposite hers. “Since we’re alone, you may refer to me as William. I’ve asked this of you before.”
“I see you’ve decided to turn into a bear today,” Fanny responded with aplomb, for she wouldn’t let him bully her with a bad mood. “I’ll forgive you the ugly manners, for I can understand that investigating a murder must not be the most pleasant of tasks.” She caught his gaze from across the narrow aisle. “That is what we’re going to poke about in today, right? A murder… William?”
A grudging grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Yes, unfortunately, that is the purpose of today’s visit.”
“Is it related to the case you’re currently working?” She held her pencil at the ready.
“Until I can examine the body and the scene, I would have no idea, but I can suspect.” He delved a hand into the interior pocket of his jacket and then held up an envelope. “I was summoned by my superior. It might be gruesome.”
When he offered the missive to her, Fanny took it and opened the paper with bated breath. After reading the brief note, she gave it back to him. “That doesn’t bode well.”
“No, it does not.” William crammed the note into a pocket of his greatcoat.
“Will you tell me about the first victim?” His life must be so fascinating… and worrisome.
A muscle worked in his jaw, but finally, he nodded. “The evening of the rout where you and I were reacquainted, I was called out to Hyde Park. The body of a woman was discovered there, off to the side of the road, whether dumped there or murdered there is anyone’s guess, for it was freezing that night. She’d been brutally stabbed yet neither sexually assaulted nor robbed.”
“Interesting.” The shadows in his eyes spoke as loudly as the words he didn’t say. “Do you fear this latest victim will present the same way?”
“During the length of my career, I’ve learned not to form theories or ideas until I know all the facts. To do so is folly and sloppy work.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She scribbled a few notes onto the page and then paused to look at him. “Knowing the small amount that I do about you, I have a feeling you’d rather walk nude along Rotten Row than be accused of conducting a shoddy investigation.” It wasn’t uttering the scandalous word “nude” that had heat jumping into her cheeks, it was the image that suggestion conjured in her mind’s eye. Oh, he would no doubt be a fine specimen indeed sans clothing. Would there ever come a time when she’d have cause to see him thus?
One of William’s eyebrows rose, nearly touching his hairline. Then, he flashed her a genuine grin that had butterflies chasing about her lower belly. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” When he chuckled, the rich sound flowed over her and left gooseflesh in its wake. “However, yes, I work diligently on each case to ensure there is nothing left to chance, and nothing is overlooked.”
“I’m sure everyone involved appreciates your dedication. I certainly do. That sort of work ethic makes me feel safer.” Fanny scribbled another few notes on her page, and for long moments, the scratch of her pencil mingled with the clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the street. “Do you enjoy your livelihood?”
Amusement danced in his stormy eyes. “Are we beginning your interview then?”
“Yes, I suppose we are. It might help me prepare for what’s coming.”
“Very well.” He settled back against the squabbed bench and rested an ankle upon a knee in the perfect picture of a man who was confident in who he was and what he brought to the world. She envied him for that. “Yes, if I were to ask myself that at various times over the course of my career, I would say I do enjoy my work, even the grisly parts.” An expression of surprise crossed his face, gone at his next blink.
“Why is that, do you think?” It was a fascinating way to discover more about him.
He shrugged. “A man must do something with his life, especially if he isn’t possessed of a title or a fortune.”
“True.” Fanny wrote down a couple more notes.
“My work is interesting as well as fulfilling,” William continued, as if now that he’d started talking, he wasn’t keen to stop. “Solving crime keeps the mind sharp. I enjoy many aspects that come with being a Bow Street Runner, with the exception of being hired by a family due to someone going missing.” He blew out a breath and turned his head to the window. “Or when I must tell a family their loved one was found dead. When the verdict is murder, it’s doubly difficult.”
“I imagine that’s a dismal affair no matter the circumstances,” she said in a soft voice. “How do you grasp normality in your life after seeing so much violence and grimness?” She pressed her lips together as she thought about her next words. “How to do you pull yourself out of the dark cloud that must come from your line of work?” When he turned his head and met her gaze, she rushed onward. “Obviously, there must be days you’re beaten down and have very little hope for humanity.”
“Yes, this is all true.” Respect lined his expression, for her or the questions she couldn’t say. “Men in my occupation run the risk of wanting to end it all because of the destruction, the absolute evil we see each day. And I’ve had a few good friends leave Bow Street because of it.” He rubbed a gloved hand along his jaw. “However, I manage to compartmentalize my cases, locking them away into various sections of my mind and try not to let that bleed over into my personal life.”
“Do you succeed?”
“At times.” The shadows were back in his eyes, constantly shifting, hiding things he would probably never tell her. “At others, when everything presses in on me and I can no longer lock the horrors away, I indulge in the violin.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You play an instrument?” What an interesting development.
“Oh yes. I had years of tutoring until it became a habit instilled, and I’ve always had a deep appreciation for music. Where my sister Caroline is a gifted artist, my talents went to music. Isobel, however, I’m afraid her talents went awry and gathered themselves into flirting.” When he grinned, her pencil nub skated mindlessly across her paper as she gawked, for it quite transformed his face and took away some of the grief his position brought. “Over the years I’ve found that indulging in something beautiful helps to calm me and washes my mind clean. Plus, if I can put a bit of loveliness into the world, that has to be a good thing.” He blew out a breath. “It’s rather difficult to explain.”
“How lovely, though, to imagine all the same.” Fanny cleared her throat before she became too enamored of the idea of him. She wrote out a note. “Might you play for me sometime?”
William shrugged, and his greatcoat pulled snug along the breadth of his shoulders. What would it feel like to explore them, to feel his arms around her, press her lips to the underside of his jaw where the beginnings of rough stubble might form? “I don’t see why not, especially if we’re to come to an understanding during this courtship period.”
The heat in his gaze sent warmth flooding back into her cheeks. How had he managed to change the subject so effortlessly? “I’d enjoy that.” Did she refer to his continued calling, or an opportunity to hear him play the violin?
“By the by, how does the viscount fare? I assume you’ve seen him during my absence?” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been present during their interview.
“Whose fault is that? I didn’t ask you to stay away.” Though his silence had been noted.
And where had this sudden streak of bravery come from that she’d say something so tart-mouthed to him?
“Bow Street took all my attention.” It wasn’t an apology nor an excuse. It was merely his reality, and she’d need to accept it if their connection moved deeper.
She made another note, this time for her own personal use. “What do the women in your life think of having the bulk of your time mired in your work?”
“My mother and sisters?” Genuine confusion rang in his voice.
“No, women you are interested in romantically.” Her heartbeat accelerated slightly. Would he admit to having a mistress?
He snorted. “I’ve found that investigating murder isn’t conducive to romance, nor do the facts therein impress most ladies. I’m very much a hardened bachelor.”
“That’s too bad, for given half a chance, you’d be quite the catch if you believed you are.” Fanny closed the notebook and then shoved it and the pencil nub into her reticule.
Emotion clouded his eyes she couldn’t read, but he didn’t remove his gaze from her face. “So, regarding the viscount then?”
“Hmmph.” She felt a trifle defensive since the direction of the conversation had turned. “I suppose he’s well.” It was her turn to glance out the window and avoid scrutiny. “He’s eager to be in my company, and he’s fun at times with an evident sense of humor, even if he wishes to hasten the direction of our relationship.” Once or twice, he’d attempted to pull her into a shadowy corner or unused room, but she’d denied him, hiding behind fear and uncertainty. Plus, she couldn’t be certain he was a good fit, but was that just missish nerves?
“I see.” William remained silent for a few moments before speaking again. “Has he kissed you yet?”
“What?” Shock lanced through her chest. She snapped her attention to his face. “That is private and privileged information.”
“Yet, you’re a reporter, so I rather think a bit of tit for tat is valid here.” When he lifted an eyebrow and she remained silent, he continued. “Then that answer is no.” The grin he wore positively brimmed with wickedness. “You wouldn’t be so shocked or annoyed at the question if he had.”
How did he manage to hit so close to the truth? Did something in her attitude, her appearance, her expression give away her thoughts so clearly? She’d need to ask him… later. Right now, aggravation brewed within her. “Lord Wainwright is a gentleman.” To a point.
William snorted. “Even a gentleman worth his salt should kiss ladies he’s courting. Or at least try to. After all, isn’t that the point of courtship?”
“I rather think he wants more from me than kisses.” Drat. Stop talking, Fanny!
“Oh?”
She gave a curt nod. “It’s fast for me, and…” Oh, dear. Here she was revealing another secret to him. “I’d rather like to feel romanced before I find myself in a scandalous embrace with a man. Does that make me too old-fashioned?”
“It does not, and you deserve all of that, so hold your ground. Don’t settle for less than exactly what you want.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I don’t know.”
There was no time to reply to the outrageous revelations, for the carriage rocked to a halt. Seconds later, the driver swung open the door and put down the steps. William jumped from the vehicle.
He offered her a hand. “Quickly, now. Remember to remain quiet unless I ask for your opinion or assessment. I don’t want my superior tossing you out before you even have a chance to gather facts… or prove yourself.”
“Thank you.” She slipped her gloved hand into his, marveling at the strength in his fingers as he assisted her down. Knowing he wished her to succeed in a journalistic endeavor sent a flutter into her heart.
Then he lowered his voice. “I would caution you to gird your loins, Miss Bancroft. The scene will probably not be pleasant for genteel eyes.”
“I appreciate your concern, but if I’m to be a real reporter, I must acclimate myself to the horrors people inflict upon each other.” Yet the fact that he’d tried to spare her sensibilities made her respect for him rise. “This is the way of the world, the world women like me are sheltered from.”
“Unfortunately, that is an undeniable fact.”
Fanny’s nerves grew taut the closer she and William drew to the crime scene. A few men stood about a woman’s body lying half-on, half-off the road, as if she’d fallen or had been pushed from a moving carriage. “Oh, dear God,” she whispered when she caught a glimpse of the copious amounts of dark blood that stained the light blue skirts of the woman’s dress.
“Steady,” William urged in a barely audible voice as they came abreast of the scene. He approached a man with a barrel chest and a stumpy neck. “Chief Inspector Pryce, this is Miss Bancroft from the General Evening Post.”
The man who was William’s superior frowned as he flicked a glance at her. “You invited in the press, and a woman to boot?” A growl had set up in his tones.
“I thought to contain the situation and give her an exclusive so we can control the flow of information and what she turns in.” He also glanced her way, but nothing in his expression indicated that he and she knew each other previously. “I can vouch for her integrity. Female or not, Miss Bancroft will do what needs to be done, and we can trust her.”
What a sweet man! Heat rose into her cheeks for a reason other than annoyance.
“Very well.” The chief inspector nodded, but he didn’t look at her or acknowledge her in any way again. He gestured to the body lying pitiful and forlorn on the road. “Constable Andrews was the one who found her.” His dark gaze flicked to a tall, lean man in a uniform she recognized from rides through Hyde Park. “He can tell you more.”
The constable nodded. He didn’t look her way, either. Obviously, women didn’t rank as important to these men, but that would give her the opportunity to observe unfettered. “I was on my morning rounds through the park when I heard the insistent barking of a dog. When I came to investigate, I found a mongrel pulling at the foot of the body.”
Oh, merciful heavens! Fanny glanced at the foot in question. It was missing a slipper. The other one was intact.
“What time was this?” William asked while she pulled out her notebook and began scribbling notes regarding the scene and his questions.
“Quarter past eight.”
William approached the body and kneeled at the dead woman’s side. “When you found her and ran off the dog I assume?” He looked at the constable, who nodded. “Was there frost on her body?”
“Not that I can remember, Inspector.”
“Ah.” He looked at her. “That means she wasn’t killed here overnight, nor was she dumped under cover of darkness.”
She nodded in appreciation.
“Thank you, Constable. That will be all.”
Chief Inspector Pryce cursed softly under his breath. “We’re garnering a crowd. If you could speed your investigation, Storme?”
“Of course. Have the constable hold the public back at least twenty feet. I don’t want the scene trampled.”
“I’ll do want I can, and I’ll even weed out potential witnesses before I go.”
“Excellent. Send on the coroner when he arrives.” William continued his investigation. Gently, he tipped the woman’s body onto her side. “No blood pooling, which means this definitely wasn’t where she was killed.”
Now that he was alone and clearly in charge of the situation, Fanny edged closer. The whole thing fascinated her. “Then where?”
“I don’t know at this point.” When he put the woman on her back, he plucked at the front of her bloody gown. A panel came easily away for it had been slashed. “Damn. Stabbed and then gutted, exactly like the other victim.”
Fanny stared at the destruction. Bloody entrails spilled from a deep slash in the woman’s abdomen. The metallic smell of the blood clogged her nose, and the sight of such gruesome violence—to say nothing of a human’s innards—sent her stomach into mad spasms. “Excuse me.” She bolted from her position, her sight blinded by quick tears, and at the first bit of shrubbery she found, she cast up her accounts, heaving again and again until her stomach had emptied.
