For once Oliver looked doubtful. "I'm not so sure. That last girl you found for us, there was something wrong with her for certain. She was, well, crazed."
"But it was fun, wasn't it?"
"Fun? I was exhausted. You must have better staying power than me. I heard you get her up and out this morning. I'm surprised you can still walk."
"Ah, my boy, I'll give you riding lessons some other time," Adam said with a tight smile. "Come, old fellow, Islington awaits."
Dr. Herriot gasped as he had the nurse remove the dying woman's clothes so he could examine her. "And you found her where?"
"An alley near the brewery."
The breath rattled in the woman's throat, and she tried to speak. But she had been half strangled, the purple thumb prints on her neck standing out starkly against her pale flesh.
"Who did this to you? Can you tell me what he looked like?"
She opened her mouth, but the only thing which emanated from it was blood. He stared into the empty cavern where her teeth had once been, and her-
His eyes rounded like saucers, and he began to tremble in horror. "Nurse, send for the police, now. Tell them we have another one."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Blake arrived back at the stroke of eleven. Making his apologies to Arabella for the delay, he went up the stairs to check his room one last time before they set off.
His valet Timothy seemed to have taken everything of importance, his favourite cufflinks and cravats, his best pins, and his gold fob watch which had been a present from his father.
He wanted Mr. Jerome to think well of him, see that though he had not been raised in the countryl he was a gentleman who could fit in and knew the value of the past, of heritage, heirlooms.
Blake sighed. He wondered how much Mr. Jerome knew of his family history. Everything, no doubt.
But it was nothing he needed to worry about. None of his obligations would interfere with the future of Jerome Manor. He would most certainly not be harsh with the poor surviving daughters, who through a lack of sense on the part of one of their ancestors had been disinherited simply by dint of being female. An unfortunate accident, foolish people would conclude, but as Blake knew, a fifty-percent likelihood.
He shook his head. All of these fixations on gender and virginity and legitimacy were like bizarre rituals from some ancient religion, not things a sensible modern man needed to worry about.
He sighed. But a woman flouted convention at her own peril, as would he if he ever dared to admit his true feelings for Arabella.
However, Blake could not do that until he was more certain of his own affairs, and more certain of her. She was very young-she had scarcely spread her wings yet. Her triumph had been considerable, but her head had not been turned by it. She needed to be given a fair chance to make a match of her own, without him as her guardian trying to manoeuvre her for his own selfish purposes.
For selfish he most certainly was. He wanted Arabella all to himself. If he could not manage that entirely because of the pressures and suspicions of the rest of the world, he would put a brave face on it by taking her visiting.
Philip's word of warning had not been lost upon him. He had to play it safely, be seen to be open and forthcoming and never dog in the manger, no matter how jealous he might become.
If she fell in love with another, well, he would have only himself to blame for having treated her so shabbily at the inn.
He would give it three months. If at the end of that time nothing had occurred which gave him any reason to suspect Arabella had given her heart to another, he would ask for permission to pay court to her, and the Devil take the consequences.
In the meantime, he would settle his circumstances more fully for his intended future wife and the children they would eventually be blessed with. And he prayed to the Lord that they would all look like Arabella.
"Ready to go?" he asked when he came downstairs into her small sitting room.
"I think so," she said quietly, still filled with misgivings over where he had been.
He noticed her hesitation and patted her shoulder in what he hoped would seem a reassuring rather than suggestive manner. "Anything you've forgot, we can buy, my dear. Bath is full of lovely shops."
She gave a wan smile. "You've already been more than indulgent."
"I know you gave all your pin money to the clinic, so I don't think I can be accused of being too doting if I buy you one or two things to make up for it. But let's just see your account book as long as we're on the subject." He winked at her, and she handed it over.
"Very good. You're doing well," he praised.