Christian glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll go back for her.”
“No.” Rose coughed and sucked in a breath. “I-I can’t lose you, Christian.”
But despite all Mrs Wilmslow had done, he could not leave her there. He returned to the water and dived down. He could see the woman’s lifeless body, but couldn’t hold his breath long enough to reach her.
He returned to the bank and Stanton hauled him out. “No luck?”
Christian shook his head and collapsed on the steps next to Rose, his clothes sodden, his breath coming in painful pants.
Rose scrambled to his side, stroked his face, pushed the wet strands of hair off his forehead. “Say something. Tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, but I was too late to save the reverend’s wife.” Guilt flared until he noted the red line marring the skin at Rose’s throat. Then he pushed all grim thoughts aside.
Sitting on the top step, Lady Stanton sighed. Blood covered her hands and breeches. “It’s too late for the doctor, too.”
Lord Stanton found his coat and shrugged into the garment. “We need to inform the authorities. For the life of me, I have no idea how we’ll explain this mess.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to gather proof of the doctor’s nefarious dealings.” Rose took hold of Christian’s hand and held it tightly. “After all, we still have the blue book and the note requesting I meet him here. The mere fact he paid for private use of the garden creates suspicion.”
“We’ll leave together and go straight to Peel. As Home Secretary, I believe he’ll have a vested interest in our case.” Lord Stanton withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to locate him at this time of day. And that way the matter will be dealt with swiftly and with the utmost discretion.”
Christian hoped Stanton was right. Peel was considered a fair man though one obsessed with combating crime in the city. “On the way, I want you to tell me what the devil Mrs Wilmslow had to do with it all.”
Rose nodded, but her gaze drifted to the body sprawled across the path. “What about Dr Taylor? We can’t leave him here.”
Lord Stanton shrugged. “Then we have no choice but to take him with us.”
Rose shivered visibly. “You forget, the gate’s locked. The only way out is by boat.”
“I found this in the doctor’s pocket.” Lady Stanton opened her blood-stained hand to reveal a small iron key. “I presume it’s for the gate.”
“Let us hope so. After all that’s happened we deserve some luck.” Christian stood, took Rose’s hand and brought her to her feet. “Come. The sooner we get this business dealt with the sooner we can move on with our lives.”
Christian caught himself. Could this truly be the end of his problems? After seven years spent in a miserable marriage, and two years spent living with the threat of constant sickness, he’d lost all hope of ever being happy again.
Everything changed the day Rose came into his life.
His throat grew tight when he thought of how close he’d come to losing her. Rose was his friend, his love, his everything.
He recalled something she’d said at Everleigh. Often our greatest teachers are the ones who cause us the most pain. Now he understood Cassandra’s lesson. She had shown him all that love was not. Only now could he appreciate the value of sacrifice. Now he could appreciate the beauty of true love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was seven o’clock by the time Rose and Nicole left Peel’s office. Through the patches of fog, a warm orange sky spoke of the sun’s slow descent. Thankfully, the testimony of two peers proved more than adequate to appease Peel. Indeed, the gentleman seemed more interested in the fraud committed at Morton Manor than the fact the reverend’s wife had killed a doctor in the apothecaries’ garden.
Peel sent a constable around to every London address listed in the blue book. It soon became evident that some patients at the manor had not been mad at all. Greedy people often resorted to underhanded methods to rid themselves of their unwanted relatives. Peel agreed that the doctor could not have acted alone when he took the bribes. And the consensus was that Mr Watson, at one time, must have been his accomplice.
As Oliver’s carriage rattled through the London streets, Nicole sat at Rose’s side, gripping her hand as she’d done many times during the six months spent together at the manor.
“I’ll be glad to be out of these ridiculous clothes and in a warm bath.” Nicole’s weary tone conveyed the stresses of the day.
Rose glanced down at the faint blood splatters on her breeches. She grimaced when she inhaled, and the vile stench of the river invaded her nose. “I don’t want to go home.”
Nicole turned to her and frowned. “You don’t?”
So much had happened in the last week it was hard to think clearly, but one thought remained constant. She loved Christian. The only place she wanted to be was in his arms. “Take me to Berkeley Square.”
“But Oliver insisted we return home and wait for him there. They could be with Peel for hours.”