“There were no children with their current wives. That was the only other link I found among the four noblemen. Their wives were significantly younger than they, and had been married a relatively short period of time—three years or less. My guess is that’s what led Bow Street to suspect the women were involved. They had huge fortunes to gain and long years in which to enjoy them.”
“Have any of the beneficiaries pressed to collect their money?”
“No.” Hibbert shook his head. “They’re all wealthy in their own right, other than Hart’s legitimate son, who ran off years ago and took to the sea. The other three are waiting patiently. They’re more interested in finding out who killed the victims and kidnapped their wives than in claiming an inheritance.”
His frown deepening, Royce stared off into space. “So the men all had young wives—wives who disappeared, taken by a kidnapper who’s made no attempt to get at their husbands’ money.” He took another swallow of brandy. “Which brings us to the question, if the killer isn’t holding these women for ransom, what did he do with them? Murder them? If so, why haven’t the bodies turned up? If not, what would he want with them?”
Abruptly, Royce broke off, his own words finding their mark.
Realization struck hard, and the missing piece fell into place.
“Dammit,” Royce bit out, slamming his goblet to the sideboard. “It’s been right in front of me all this time and I never saw it.” He turned, his hard stare finding Hibbert. “We’ve been assuming the men were his intended victims. They weren’t. They were merely sport—as I said, a sick game of target practice to ready him for Breanna. It’s their wives who were his true marks.Theywere the ones he wanted. And, as you discovered, they’re the ones with somethingin common—their youth, their childless state.”
Hibbert gave him a puzzled look. “You’ve lost me.”
“Something Breanna said last night just sankin .”Royce began prowling about, his forehead creasedin thought as he polished his theory. “Or rather, two things she said in the same breath. She referred to overhearing her father arrange for the assassin tokill Anastasia, and she referred to having to bear the knowledge that he intended to sell her cousin asa prostitute.”
“We knew both those facts.”
“Yes, but we didn’t look for the common link between them. We never directly tied the assassin to Medford’s selling of women. But there is a tie,astrong one—Cunnings.”
Hibbert’s head came up, his eyes narrowed as he caught his employer’s implication. “It was Cunnings who Medford paid to hire the assassin. So we know Cunnings and the killer were well-acquainted. We also know that Cunnings was aware of Medford’s business of selling women. Which means he could very well have mentioned that fact to his colleague.”
“Cunnings was more thanawareof what Medford was doing,” Royce corrected. “From what I remember of the Bow Street report, he was right in the thick of things. While he went about hiring the assassin, he was also trying to provide a substitute for Anastasia— another nobly-bred young woman to send to Paris.
That way, Anastasia would be eliminated, and George Colby would still get paid by his French buyer Cunnings knew he’d be handsomely rewarded for managing both.”
“A fact he could have boasted to the killer,” Hibbert murmured.
“Right. After all, he was taking on a daunting task. Highborn ladies don’t vanish as easily as workhouse women do. They’re missed— ifthere’s someone alive to miss them.”
“You think the assassin picked up where my father left off?”
Both men started, jerking about to see Breanna standing in the doorway, her face drawn, her eyes filled with pain. “You think he sold those four women?”
“I mink ifs a strong possibility.” Royce walked over, took her hands in his.
“But why? We’ve determined he doesn’t need the money… Don’t answer that,” she amended, with a shiver of disgust. “The challenge. Winning. God, this is sickening.”
“But it makes sense,” Hibbert said quietly, glancing at his notes. “As you pointed out, none of the wives had yet borne children—which probably means they were fresher, more youthful-looking, and therefore more desirable to whomever purchased them. None of them had relatives, other than parents who lived far away and represented no threat to the assailant”
“All but Emma Martin.” Royce raked ahandthrough his hair, another glimmer of insight taking shape. “That miserable bastard not only bested me by killing Glynnisandstealing her daughter, hefur t he red his own sick scheme in the process.”
“Emma must have been among his latestship ment.” Hibbert nodded. “I agree. Which bringsto mind another fact. All the women lived in L ondon ,which made them easily transportable to theConti nent. All except Emma. My guess is she was dragged there by the killer, who then sent her off alongwith Lady Hart.”
“Sent off to whom?” Breanna asked. “Has t hat Rouge person my father dealt with resurfaced? Oristhere someone else buying these women?”
“I don’t know. But since Emma and Lady Hartwere kidnapped two days ago, the shipment that included them had to have left between then and now. We’d better act fast.” Royce was already in motion, crossing the threshold into the hallway. “Wells,”he called, summoning the butler. “Where’s Damen?”
“He’s upstairs with Miss Stacie,” Wells reported.”I didn’t alert them to the fact that Hibbe r t hadr eturned. It’s after eleven o’clock and Miss Stacie isex hausted. I assumed we could disturb them if it became necessary.”
“It just became necessary,” Royce informed him. “Get Damen. Tell him to come down here, andto bring every bit of information he accumulated onthat M. Rouge who was buying Medford’s cargo.”
Wells blinked. “Js Rouge the killer?”
“No. But he might know him.” Royce turnedback to Hibbert. “One of us has to ride to London.I want to check the manifest of every ship that has sailedin the past few days. Perhaps something will strikeus as suspicious. Or maybe someone at the docks will even remember Emma Martin or Lady Hart, if we desc r ibe them.”
“Pardon me, Lord Royce, but I have a suggestion.”
Wells had paused on his way to the stairs. “Neither you nor Hibbert has slept in days. What’s more, the docks will be practically deserted until daybreak, with no one either knowledgeable enough or sober enough to talk to. My advice is to go to bed directly after your meeting with Lord Sheldrake. That applies to Hibbert, as well. I’ll stand guard outside Lady Breanna’s room tonight. After a decent night’s rest, you can ride to London.”
“Thank you, Wells, but I…” Royce broke off, realizing how absurd it would sound for him to say he trusted no one other than himself when it came to Breanna’s safety.
A look of gentle understanding touched Wells’s features. “I’ve protected her for twenty-one years, sir. I’m certain I can continue to do so—during those rare times when I’m needed.”
“You’ll always be needed, Wells,” Breanna said softly. She gazed reassuringly at Royce. “I’m in excellent hands. Do as Wells suggested and get some rest.”
Royce nodded. “All right— afterI’ve spoken with Damen.”
“I’ll get him at once.” Wells hurried up the stairs.
“Breanna,” Royce said, turning his attention back to her. “I know Bow Street questioned your father thoroughly when they brought him in. Did he tell them anything specific about this French contact of his, this Rouge?”
“No.” Breanna shook her head adamantly. “Just as Father never met the assassin, he never met Rouge. Their only contact was by post. Rouge was very careful to keep it that way. Evidently, he’s the one who originally sought my father out, not the other way around. The way Father described it. Rouge sent him a letter, said he had a proposition he thought could benefit them both. He was aware of my father’s financial woes. He was also aware of the fact that my father would go to any lengths to resolve those woes. Father responded at once, and their alliance began”
“You’re sure your father was telling the truth, that he wasn’t concealing anything?”
Breanna sighed. “My father is a coward, Royce. If there were any chance of lessening his own punishment by blaming someone else, he would jump at the opportunity. So, yes, I’m sure he was telling the truth.”
“Then there’s no point in my wasting time at Newgate. As for Rouge’s knowledge of your father’s desperation and lack of ethics, he could have picked that up anywhere—at a dub, a tavern, right here in England, or in Paris from a chatty English visitor. There were certainly enough people who knew Medford’s ways.” Royce pursed his lips, thinking. “Let me hear what Damen knows. Then, I’ll get some of my less reputable contacts involved.”
“Less reputable contacts—you mean, criminals?”
Breanna sounded more intrigued than shocked, re-minding Royce yet again that she was far stronger than her delicacy suggested.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, but not hardened killers. Just seedy types who have more wits and brains than scruples. They get me information, I pay them well.”
“Snitches, you mean”
“Yes.”
“That makes sense. After all, finding unscrupulous people is what you do.” “Indeed it is. And one thing I’ve learned is that there’s no one better equipped at ferreting out a criminal than another criminal.”
“Which is certainly what we’re dealing with here,” Breanna replied bitterly. “Whether it’s Rouge or someone else, we’re dealing with an animal, someone who buys women.”
At that moment, Damen strode down the stairs, his mouth drawn in a grim line. In his hand was a letter.
“Wells stayed upstairs,” he announced. “I want him guarding our bedroom door. Normally, Stacie would have beaten me down the stairs to take part in this conversation. But she’s asleep—the first real rest she’s gotten in days. She never heard Wells knock, and she didn’t budge when I left the room. I’ve never seen her sleep so deeply. Frankly, I’m worried sick about her.”
“She’s under a lot of strain, Damen,” Breanna said, trying to soothe him—and herself. “This pregnancy was difficult to begin with. And now, fearing for her babe, her strength is depleted. As soon as we stop this assassin … as soon as we…” Her voice quavered, and she broke off, averting her gaze.
“Breanna, I’m sorry,” Damen responded at once. “This has been hell for you. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“You weren’t.” Swiftly, Breanna composed herself. “I’m as worried about Stacie as you are. But I truly believe Royce will catch this monster.”
“I intend to. Is that all the material you have on Rouge?” Royce interrupted, pointing to the letter Damen held.
“Yes.” Damen handed the correspondence to Royce. “It’s an explanation from Dornier, the manager of my Paris branch. As you know, Rouge and Medford used the House of Lockewood—both the London and Paris branches—as hubs through which to send messages. Cunnings was their intermediary. When I attempted to cheek out Rouge, I contacted Dormer for my initial answers. That’s his reply you’re holding. Go ahead and read it.”
He waited while Royce complied.
“According to Dornier, Rouge himself never made an appearance at the bank,” Royce muttered as he skimmed the letter. “Everything was forwarded to an address in Paris… 4 Rue La Fayette. Rouge was never seen by anyone—not even the messenger, who was instructed to slide the letters under the door and leave.”
“Exactly. That’s as far as my investigation got. I advised Dornier to hire someone to follow the messenger the next time he arrived for Rouge’s mail. But next time never occurred. Medford was caught, and Rouge simply dropped out of sight.”
“Seemingly”
Damen’s brows drew together “Seemingly? Does that mean you suspect he’s still involved in all this?”
“Someone is.” Swiftly, Royce recounted his latest suspicions to Damen, explaining what he’d pieced together about the assassin and his overseas dealings.
“But we have no idea if the person receiving these women is Rouge,” Damen noted when he’d finished “Or even if he’s receiving them in France.”
“No, we don’t.” Royce rubbed his chin thoughtfully, altering the subject slightly. “Let’s talk about the night Cunnings was killed. Do you recall what Bow Street found on his desk when they discovered his body?”
“Of course. Stacks of files detailing our bank’s clients—including their personal histories. That came as no surprise. He was looking for a substitute to send Rouge in place of my wife.”
“Now let’s talk about what Bow Streetdidn’tfind. Isn’t it likely that Cunnings was making notes on what he read in those files? That he was jotting down enough pertinent details to allow him to make the proper selection?”
Damen exhaled sharply. “You think the assassin took those notes when he killed him?”
“If Cunnings had boasted about how difficult his challenge was, how certain he was that he could master it by finding the ideal candidate for Rouge? Absolutely.”
“Let’s assume you’re right. In that case, the assassin either has a different buyer or he and Rouge are contacting each other directly. Because John Cunnings is dead, and no one else in my bank is a criminal.”
“I agree.” Royce turned to Hibbert. “Get the right men out there to dig up what we need. I want detailson anyone even remotely suspected of buying or selling women.”
Hibbert nodded. “Should they focus primarily on England and France?”
“My instincts say yes. In any case, no farther than the Continent. The assassin would want immediate results. His nature wouldn’t permit him to wait months while his cargo sailed to the Far East or to India. But give me until morning. Once I visit the docks, I’ll know exactly where we should focus our efforts. Someone’s going to tell me what ships sailed and where they went these past two days. Then, I’m going to pore over those manifests. And with any luck, I’ll find something that will help narrow down our search.”
Royce left at daybreak.
Breanna heard him go, and she wanted more than anything to rush into the hall and see him off. But Wells was at his post outside her door, and he wouldn’t think too kindly of a public display. Especially since he didn’t even know of her wedding plans.
So she settled for listening to Royce’s deep baritone, quietly conferring with Wells, thanking him for watching over Breanna and assuring him he’d return as soon as he could.