The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection. Rebecca Winters

having partaken of food and drink a small exercise was desirable. Cassie was interested to see how Nathaniel shepherded Hanley, in particular, out through the front door.

      Jamie was fractious though with all the excitement and so Cassie decided to stay back with him. A rest might see him through the afternoon pursuits and then he could have an early bedtime.

      Bedtime.

      She wished it were later already and that the hour to retire was here. Catching Nathaniel’s eyes, she saw he watched her mount the stairs and she blushed with the warmth of his observance. Would there ever be a time when she could stand on the other side of a room fully dressed and in the company of others and not feel...desperate for him? She hoped not.

      William, too, had decided to stay indoors because he found the heat oppressive. Concern marred Cassie’s happiness. She prayed he would stay well and healthy enough to be a part of their family celebrations and outings for many years to come. They had only just found him again, after all, and underneath the gruff exterior was a man with a soft heart.

      * * *

      Half an hour later, sitting next to her sleeping son and thinking about her day, a new thought surfaced. Christopher Hanley had mentioned something about Sarah Milgrew, and Cassie sought to remember his words exactly.

      He had asked about Sarah and her sister’s killer. She sat forward, trying to pinpoint her uneasiness. The sister? Horror filled her. How had he known anything about Sarah’s sister? The police themselves had not mentioned this and there had never been an identification carried out on the bodies of the earlier victims.

      Oh, granted, Sarah had spoken of her sister’s disappearance and Nathaniel had been interested in the gown of one of the drowned girls, but there had been no other information offered. Besides, the note that had arrived for Sarah the day she had disappeared alluded to information about knowing the whereabouts of her sibling, not the demise of her.

      ‘My God.’

      Standing, she indicated to a maid outside in the corridor to come in and sit with Jamie. Christopher Hanley was the tall, dark and well-dressed man. She was suddenly sure of it. He had been in Brown Street off Whitechapel Road when Nathaniel and she had found the body in the brothel, and the toff seen at the St Katharine Docks matched his description exactly.

      Peering out the window on the stairwell, she noticed the group with Nathaniel to be perusing the formal gardens, but she could not see Christopher Hanley with them.

      Fright made her heart beat faster as she hurried towards the front door. She had to get to Nathaniel to tell him what she suspected.

      She had almost come into the wide hallway when a voice stopped her.

      ‘I had a feeling I should return.’ The sound came from behind and with all the effort in the world Cassandra made herself turn. She barely recognised the urbane and civilised lord, a sneer on his face and cold outrage in his eyes. Fear congealed in her throat and she could not hide her fright. ‘I made a mistake talking to you earlier and I can see that you picked up on it.’ Hanley’s voice lacked any remorse whatsoever.

      ‘You killed Sarah Milgrew and her sister. Why?’ An explanation might buy her some moments for surely Nathaniel would be returning soon.

      ‘They knew who I was. I thought after the first one I was safe and then the second girl turned up. I had killed their cousin in Wallingford, you see, and they remembered me.’

      ‘And the man who was found dead at Brown Street?’

      ‘Had come to London at the behest of their father to ask around and find out what had happened to the older sister. I couldn’t let him ruin things.’

      ‘So you tried to ruin me instead. It was you who sent the note asking me to come to the boarding house.’

      ‘A miscalculation, I was to think later, for I did not realise that you knew Lindsay so well. Without him there, I might have succeeded. When he visited me in London the other day I knew by his questions that he suspected something.’

      ‘Yet you still came to St Auburn?’

      ‘To find out the lay of the land, Lady Lindsay.’

      At that he moved forward and simply twisted her arm hard up behind her back. ‘If you shout out, I will go straight up to your son’s room and break his neck, do you understand? Like a chicken in a hen house. You or him. Make your choice.’

      Fear ripped resistance into pieces. Cassie would wait till they were outside before trying to flee. Nodding, she went with him, past the first door and then the second, no servant in sight, the coast clear for his escape.

      The third door was different. William Lindsay, the old Earl of St Auburn, was waiting in all readiness and with a shout he raised his cane and brought it down hard upon Hanley’s head before falling.

      The ungainly upending might have saved all their lives, she was to think later, for William took a sideboard full of bottles and glasses down with him and the noise was enough to wake up the dead. Blood dripped down into his closed eyes and Cassandra was certain that he had broken every bone in his body.

      Hanley did not waver, finding an open window in the next salon and pushing her through it headfirst where she landed heavily onto an uneven brick wall and lost her breath.

      ‘With you out of the way my secret will be safe and a quick escape to France will see to my own future.’

      Shock had made him shake, and she felt his wrath course through her as he dragged her into the bushes surrounding the lake. Without hesitation, he pushed her into the water.

      Icy coldness settled quickly.

      Then his hands were about her throat, squeezing and squeezing. She tried to fight, she did, tried to stop him as the green of the water closed over her head, but already the world had begun to narrow into darkness. Sharp rocks dug into her back.

      Floating. Peacefulness. The last release of bubbles as the warmth of death became brighter.

      Then there was a noise, a hard punch and scream and a further whip of knuckles. The grip about her throat released and Cassie was lifted gently from the cold to be brought up into the arms of her husband where he cradled her against his warmth.

      ‘It is all right, my love. You are safe.’

      She was coughing, long, deep gasps of coughing, the air hard to find and the cold making it harder again. Her throat ached and her back had been bruised as Hanley had forced her down, but she was alive.

      Alive.

      Then she was crying, huge throaty sobs, her hands entwined in the fabric of his jacket.

      ‘Your...gr-gr-grandfather tr-tried to s-save me.’

      ‘I know, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk just now. I will take you back to the house and a bath will be drawn.’

      A bath. Warmth. She gritted her teeth together to try to stop the dreadful shaking and felt the heat from his skin beneath her cheek.

      * * *

      Nat lifted Cassie, making certain that he averted his gaze from the dark red bruises that were gouged into her throat and from the cut beneath her eye. If Hanley had not been unconscious, he would have hit him yet again. Her hair was tangled with weed from the lake, the mud at the bottom smeared across her face and shoulders.

      So damn close.

      Another moment and they could not have saved her. He looked over at his grandfather, worse for wear from his upending, and saw the same thoughts in the opaque eyes. With a smile, he bent his head. In homage and in gratitude. Without William’s quick-thinking actions...?

      He shook away the horror.

      Cassie was still crying, but her sobs were softer now. Her breathing had eased a little, too, and the pale white of her skin was rosier.

      Her colour was returning and her fright receding. He was glad Kenyon was there to help his grandfather walk,