Gilbert struggled to hide his amusement. Gentlemen seemed surprised by the news of his betrothal to Anna, and there was consternation among even her acquaintances that Gilbert had proposed so quickly. Was everyone in London half-witted when it came to Anna’s appeal?

She was delightful, soft and warm and very, very kissable. She was remarkably eager and that pleased him immensely. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Our dance is about to be called.”

Her smile slipped a little. “We don’t have to dance tonight.”

“Of course we do. I intend to dance with you twice, too.”

He wanted the killer to hear, see, that Anna Beasley was a woman off the market, even if she was not married yet.

A frown grew over her face at hearing his intentions, though. That Anna did not appear enthusiastic for a second dance with him meant he still had some ways to go in reassuring her, despite her acceptance of his proposal. He would repair the damage he’d unwittingly inflicted on her confidence if it was the last thing he ever did in his life.

Gilbert held his hand out to Anna, and with her father’s permission, led her across the dance floor.

Anna fit perfectly in his arms and as the musicians began, he smiled upon her upturned face. “You look lovely tonight,” he promised. “I think I might be the luckiest man alive to have won you.”

“If you’ll forgive me, I must confess there wasn’t much competition,” she told him in a whisper with apparent discomfort.

“And are they not idiots to have not seen your appeal?” he whispered. “They’ll never know the thrill of holding you in their arms like I do.”

“Now you are determined to make me blush,” she chided.

“Just reminding you of how pleasant the occasion of your acceptance of my offer was for me.”

She looked up then, shy, eyes sparkling with desire. “And for me.”

He spun her about the room, fascinated by the light flaring in her eyes. She’d felt desire when they’d kissed. He’d noticed her little moans and how she had drawn her thighs together tightly.

Other men might have taken advantage but Gilbert was playing the long game, a game he needed to win for her sake. He wanted Anna to want to make love to him after they wed. Preferably on their wedding night but if not, sometime soon after, he hoped. Once she felt secure of her place in his affections, he saw no reason why they couldn’t have a very satisfying marriage.

He was so swept up in Anna’s expression, he nearly missed Carmichael slipping from the ballroom alone and out onto the terrace. He frowned when he didn’t immediately return. There were Bow Street men outside, keeping watch over the house in case a stranger tried to slip in or out.

He glanced down at Anna, noticed her attention fixed over his shoulder, too. “May I escort you into supper tonight?”

“Isn’t Carmichael expecting you to help him find this person he seeks?”

“He can wait. I’d rather be with you.”

She glanced up, her lips lifted into a smile once more. “He hates waiting for anyone.”

“He’ll have to become used to coming second to you in my affections from now on,” he promised.

She bit her lip and Gilbert laughed softly. “He can pout all he wants. I won’t change my mind.”

When the dance concluded, he was disappointed to have to let go of Anna. But he consoled himself that as an engaged couple, he could linger in her presence most of the night and, in due time, he could dance every dance with her after they married. People might be scandalized but what could they do about the behavior of a married couple?

When they were married, he’d be very happy to create any sort of scandal to prove to Anna she was dearest to him.

He curled her arm about his possessively and slowly strolled with her back to her father. The older man hadn’t quite accepted their future marriage as fact and may never do so, Gilbert had already concluded. Mr. Beasley was much too fond of the idea of Anna and Carmichael marrying one day to consider anyone else might suit her better.

“How did I do?”

“You danced very well.”

“But did you feel you had all of my attention?”

“I did.” She looked up at him shyly. “I loved dancing with you.”

He beamed at her, glad to know she was satisfied. “May I claim the honor of escorting you and your father home tonight?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He didn’t have to but he wanted to. “I think your father and I need to become better acquainted, too, and I wanted to show him the new carriage I’ve purchased for your use.”

A look of wonder crossed her face. “You purchased me my own carriage?”

“I would buy you anything you might require for your comfort.”

“I need very little.”

“I’m sure that is not entirely true.” He smiled again. “A second carriage will ensure you may visit anyone, should I be out in the other.”

After a moment, Anna leaned into him. “I’m sorry about father. He just thinks he knows what is best for me.”

“He wants Carmichael to be in my current place. That is not possible now.”

“His dream was never possible.” She shivered. “I’m so sorry if you feel slighted.”

“Over Carmichael, never. Carmichael would not have agreed to marry you anyway.”

“Do you say that because of the problem you are solving together?”

“Because Carmichael fell in love with someone else,” he confessed.

She looked at him sharply. “Carmichael? In love?”

“I cannot say more,” he confessed.

Anna frowned. “Is that part of the secret you share?”

“It is.”

She bit her lip and then smiled up at him suddenly. “My father will come around eventually but…I don’t suppose you fish, my lord?”

“I do. Why?”

Her smile widened. “Are you any good at it?”

“Fair.”

“Then you should tell my father about the river that runs through the Kent estate and ask him if he fishes. My father loves nothing more than speaking to other anglers. I’m sure that will help him see the benefits of our marriage very soon afterward.”

He beamed at her. “Very clever. I will do as you suggest and see if that does not improve my appeal.”

Gilbert and Anna joined her father, and Gilbert remained at Anna’s side. He resisted the urge to watch young women slipping away from the gathering, even though it was again Friday evening. Bow Street had hired more men than ever for tonight and Carmichael was somewhere outside, too. He was sure his absence from the patrol for one Friday would not hinder the investigation one little bit. After all, he had a betrothal to celebrate with Anna.

He posed Anna’s question to her father and soon they were discussing the best fishing grounds they’d each tried, the size of their catches, and the delights of the Kent estate’s nearly private river to fish on. Mr. Beasley was an avid angler, far better than him, too. At least they had a love of fishing in common, so he made sure to invite the man to come visit them in Kent as often as he liked so he could fish to his heart’s content.

Just as he was beginning to really enjoy the discussion, a terrified scream rent the air.

The sound seemed to come from all directions at once. He looked around, just as everyone else was doing, too.

The orchestra fell silent, as did the entire room.

Anna clutched his arm as a second anguished scream broke the silence of the room and was abruptly cut off.

He looked up to where the sound seemed to originate. A dome ceiling loomed over them.

Carmichael barreled into the room, a look of panic in his eyes. “What has happened?”

Gilbert peered into the shadowed upper reaches—and saw a white gloved hand stretching lifelessly through the balustrade above them. “There,” he said as he pointed up.

“Come on,” Carmichael urged as he sprinted away toward the main staircase.

Gilbert hesitated, glancing at Anna. “Will you promise to remain with your father and never leave his side?”

Her grip tightened. “What about you?”

“I need to see what might be done.”

“All right.”

Gilbert ran after Carmichael, dodging slower guests intent on climbing the stairs. At the top, he found his host, Lord Thwaite, standing over the body of a fallen woman. Lord Thwaite was pale and shaking. His grip on an unknown lady at his side, protective.

“She’s dead!” Thwaite said in a horrified voice.

“Who is it?”

The woman in Lord Thwaite’s arms answered after a pause, “Miss Myra Lacy. We just left her father in the card room not ten minutes ago. He was winning.”

“Have him sent for.” Gilbert pushed forward as Carmichael gently closed Miss Lacy’s eyes. “Who found her?”

“We did,” Lord Thwaite admitted.

“And the screams?”

“Mine,” the lady admitted with a little sob.

“We did not see her at first,” he confessed, looking uncomfortable.

Gilbert assessed the pair, weighing the odds of them being truthful. Their clothing was disordered, as if they had dressed in a rush or had been undressing. A tryst interrupted most likely, but Thwaite and the lady—not his wife—would bear further scrutiny.

“Carmichael?”

“She’s been slashed across the throat.” He moved a little, and Gilbert saw a long blade remained in her chest. “Sliced across the throat first, and then stabbed in the heart?”

He peered at the blade more closely, noting the fine, almost delicate design of the thing. It was not a weapon he was familiar with. Bespoke most likely, but not in any way ornate. It would be difficult to locate the craftsman but he would let Bow Street narrow down a likely manufacturer.

He looked around the high balcony. The location of this murder was exposed to discovery by anyone who happened to stumble up here. However, the imperfect illumination must have hid the assailant, at least at first. Given the amount of blood around the fallen woman, the killer must have some upon them, too.

“We need to hurry,” he told Lord Thwaite. “Detain everyone.”

The earl rushed off, shouting orders to his servants to secure the house.

Gilbert gestured Carmichael close. “Follow him and make sure no one leaves. Also, send Davis up after he sends for the magistrate.”

As he spoke, he caught Anna gaping from the crowd near the top of the staircase. She was with her father, but her eyes were locked on the corpse.

“I just spoke to her tonight,” she whispered to herself. Tears slipped down her cheeks in unending streams. “She congratulated me on my betrothal. She was happy for me.”

Anna lifted her gaze to his and she sobbed.

Since her father could do nothing but stare in shock at poor Miss Lacy, Gilbert hurried to her and drew Anna into his arms to let her sob against his coat. She’d witnessed violence twice now, and he felt bad about that. He set his hand to the back of her head while he fumbled for a handkerchief in his pocket. “Here,” he whispered.

She clutched the handkerchief to her face and continued to sob quietly against him.

“Someone had to see something tonight. Someone will have Miss Lacy’s blood on their hands or clothing.”

“I’m going to be sick,” Anna whispered urgently, pushing out of Gilbert’s arms and fleeing down the hall. He considered following but as she neared a room where two maids lingered, he hesitated.

“Is there a retiring room up here, too?” he asked of no one in particular. “I thought it was downstairs nearer the ballroom.”

“Lady Thwaite always has an extra room set aside upstairs for the ladies with more delicate constitutions and sensitivity to crowds,” Mrs. Hayes advised, growing pale with concern.

“I’ll make sure Miss Beasley is all right.” With one last darting glance at the victim, Mrs. Hayes turned away, saying, “How terrible to die like that.”

Mr. Beasley finally came out of his stupor and glanced around. “Anna?”

“Anna felt ill, sir,” he advised Mr. Beasley.

Gilbert glanced down the hall, anxious for Anna to reappear. Anything could happen in that room, and she’d be defenseless.

Carmichael returned. “Davis was already at the door when I went down. The Runners have secured the house and begun inspecting every guest and servant they see for blood. Perhaps this time we will have the upper hand.”

Mr. Beasley sucked in a sharp breath. “This time? Don’t tell me this has happened before?”

“Shh,” Carmichael urged quickly, pulling Mr. Beasley aside. “Best not to increase the panic of the guests any further.”

Worry gnawed at Gilbert. There might still be other deaths if they didn’t catch this killer soon. In the meantime, he was determined to ensure Anna remained safe. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her now. “Sir, might we both talk to you later in greater detail?”

The older man nodded as he spotted Anna returning. “I’m taking my daughter home now.”

He’d been with Mr. Beasley and Anna all night, so he could vouch for them personally. “Neither of you are suspects.”

Gilbert smiled at Anna as she returned. She was pale and trembling still. “I will see you to your carriage but Carmichael and I must stay. We will call on you both as soon as possible.”

She nodded but leaned heavily upon her father as they made their way down the stairs. Gilbert followed them to the carriage door and waved them off. Then he returned upstairs to view the body of poor Miss Lacy.

“Another young life ended all too soon.” He turned away from the body after making notes on how she’d fallen. “Damnation! Who is this attacker?”

“Miss Lacy’s dowry had been five thousand pounds,” Carmichael informed him. “She’d had many suitors, but none so far had won her hand that I’ve heard of. She was popular, and outrage will grow over her death.”

Gilbert appreciated the information but he had a delicate question for Carmichael to answer. “Ah, I have to ask…did you kiss her too?”

“Not this lady. I had decided on Angela by the time we met.” Carmichael’s voice broke on his last words.

Gilbert set his hand to his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. “We will have to reveal the loss of the rest of them now. Especially Angela.”

Carmichael paled. “What will the killer do next, once everyone knows there’s been a string of deaths—retreat or become even more unpredictable?”

“I don’t know, Carmichael. I just don’t know.”