Dark, Deadly Love by Denise A. Agnew

Author:Denise A. Agnew
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2010-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“A London fog is not like any other fog you may have encountered. It is an entity in itself.”

—Dicken’s Dictionary of London, 1883

September 1

Another murder of the foulest kind was committed in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel in the early hours of yesterday morning, but by whom and with what motive is at present a complete mystery.

—London Times

“Good God!” Ross slammed the London Times down on the table, almost upsetting his teacup.

“What is it, sir?” Hazel righted his cup before it went flying. She sat the plate of scones down on the table with obvious trepidation. “Has something awful happened?”

“You could say that,” he growled as he thought about what he’d read. “Another woman has been murdered in the East End.”

Hazel’s hand went to her mouth. “Lordy!”

His anger gave him new strength, and he stood. As he paced, Hazel watched him with wide eyes. He turned to her and stopped pacing. “It’s all right, Hazel. You can go now. In fact, isn’t today the day you’re supposed to go see your sister?”

“Yes, sir. But now that you’ve told me about this killin’ I don’t think I’m eager to go to the East End. I don’t think any woman in her right mind would go there now.”

“Isn’t Osmond going with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I think you could be reasonably assured of your safety. But if you feel uneasy, Bernard can go as well. Make a day out of it. You all deserve some time off.”

Hazel smiled, and he saw the pleasure his suggestion gave her. He felt good about it right down to his soul. “Thank you, Mr. Havenwood. But that’ll leave only Bessie and Abigail in the house this afternoon.”

He smiled wryly. “I think I’ll survive, Hazel.”

She hurried to the door, happiness etching her features. “I’ll tell them.”

Hazel curtsied and before he knew it she left.

Ross sank into the nearest chair, aware of the tension and apprehension rising within him. As he tasted his cooling tea, he glanced out the windows at the leaden sky. He inhaled and caught the scent of the scones on the platter next to him.

He could pretend that nothing happened between him and his ward last night.

Ha! Your ward. She is so much more than that.

Emotional starvation mixed with shame. He cherished her kind, gentle personality more than anything. As a child she might have been precocious, but keen intelligence shone out of her beautiful eyes then, as it did now.

He didn’t know if he could analyze his feelings for her. Indeed, she meant so much to him—more than she could know—and his deep interest in keeping her happy stayed uppermost in his mind. Gritting his teeth, Ross closed his eyes and remembered what he’d felt like when he’d seen Camilla clutched in Sir Wharton’s arms. Knowing torment in mind and spirit, he’d vowed to never love another woman. Yet it seemed his feelings for Alexandra veered closer and closer each day toward—

No. He wouldn’t think of it.

Despite his preoccupation with Alexandra, his thoughts turned to the murders in the East End.

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