Page 101 of An Unwilling Earl
Until she was slumped against him, blood running like a river out of her stab wounds. Her eyes were wide open, but there was no acceptance in them.
Maybe because she’d glimpsed hell right before her death, and she knew that she was never meant for heaven.
He dropped the knife and walked upstairs to gather his real knife. The one he used for his killings.
He wouldn’t get to the head tonight.
That was fine. He would bury it later.
He took his knife and left the house.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jacob was beginning to realize why men needed valets as he dressed for the ball. He’d never thought he’d be at a point in his life where he actually wanted someone to help him dress.
There was a timid knock on his door and Mrs. Smith’s voice through the heavy wood. “A Detective O’Leary is here to see you.”
Jacob opened the door, still trying to adjust his cuffs, and Mrs. Smith took a step back. “I told him you were busy, but he insisted.”
“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Smith. Detective O’Leary is always welcome.” O’Leary had never visited Jacob at his home, so he had no idea what his friend needed, but he was curious.
O’Leary was standing in the middle of Jacob’s office, and Jacob understood what Charlotte had said about needing a more respectable room to accept callers. Luckily, they were moving soon.
“I will keep this short,” O’Leary said. “Mrs. Smith told me you were preparing for your coming-out ball.” O’Leary’s lips twitched, and his Irish eyes danced.
“You are not funny. Armbruster’s mother insisted.”
“Even I know you can’t say no to Lady Armbruster.” O’Leary cleared his throat and was suddenly serious. “Another body was found.”
Jacob cursed. “And you still haven’t followed up on the information Charlotte provided.”
“My hands were tied by my superiors. Accusing a baron looks bad. However, this new body changes everything. The killer is getting sloppy. He didn’t dump it into the river, rather he left her where he killed her, and Lord and Lady Wallerstone found her.”
Jacob winced. “Was the latest victim missing a head?”
“Yes, and it was not at the scene of the crime, so he has it. I wanted to let you know that me and a few mates from the Yard will be paying the Morrises a visit tonight.”
“So now suddenly they believe Charlotte?”
“It’s the only lead we have, and with the new involvement of the Wallerstones they realize that they needed to do something.”
“What does that mean for Charlotte and me and the ball?”
“Nothing. We don’t believe you are in danger. Edmund never threatened Charlotte while they were under the same roof, and she doesn’t fit the criteria of his victims. I just wanted to let you know.”
…
She was ready early. Charlotte discovered that she didn’t have much patience with the entire preparing-for-a-ball silliness. She knew some women—like Sarah—thought the process as important as the ball itself.
Charlotte also didn’t want to attend this ball. She’d had butterflies in her stomach all week, and she finally decided that she would much prefer to stay at home with a good book, a warm fire, and Jacob by her side.
But she had to go because it was in her and Jacob’s honor, and maybe she would enjoy herself. Maybe she would meet new friends. Maybe it would be better than she thought.
Smoothing the fabric of her dark blue gown, she looked at herself critically in the full-length mirror. The modiste had worried about finishing the gown in the week that Charlotte had given her, but she’d followed through, and the gown was much more to her liking than Cora’s remade gowns, not that she didn’t appreciate them. But this style was simpler, with no lace, sleeves to her elbows. The skirt was full and brocaded. The neckline was square and dipped far too close to the edge of her bosom. She was a little worried about her naked shoulders. She’d never been out in public showing so much skin, but Sarah and her mother told her it was all the style.
Aunt Martha would be scandalized. Charlotte would have felt the switch on her backside, and she would have had to kneel by her bed for hours asking God’s forgiveness for wearing something so indecent.
Indecent was the word Aunt Martha would have used.
