And Then She Fell(74)

Stokes nodded grimly. “He’s covering his tracks, regardless of whether he actually needs to or not. Which brings us to the attacks on Miss Cynster.”

James glanced at Henrietta, tightened his grip on her hand. “He thinks you know something—”

“Or that you might know something even if you haven’t realized it yet,” Barnaby put in.

“Or,” Simon said, his tone hard, “that you might have seen enough of his face that if you see him—come upon him at some event—you’ll recognize him then.”

“Any or all of those.” Stokes shut his notebook. “It won’t matter to him. He wants you dead, and the fact that you haven’t any information that might identify him won’t stop him.”

“He views you as a potential threat.” Barnaby met Henrietta’s gaze. “And he’ll keep on until he succeeds in silencing you.”

James felt the moment grow heavier as they absorbed that apparently incontestable fact. After a moment, he said, his tone cold, “To return to my earlier question—why no hue and cry? How on earth are we to find this villain without going after him?”

Stokes looked at Barnaby.

Barnaby leaned forward, speaking to Henrietta, James, and Simon. “There’s been discussions aplenty at the highest levels about how to handle this case. The excuse of not wanting to cause panic in Mayfair, at the height of the Season no less, is true enough, but that’s a more minor consideration. The truth is that laying hands on this villain is not going to be easy—we knew that after investigating Lady Winston’s death and finding nothing to identify him—but when he murdered her ladyship’s dresser, he told us one thing we hadn’t known before.”

Barnaby met James’s and Henrietta’s gazes. “To wit, he intends to stick around. He intends to remain a part of the ton—the haut ton, almost certainly—and has no intention of quitting the scene. That’s why he’s now turned his sights on you—and, more, is trying to make your death look like an accident, or at least the result of an attack not specifically aimed at you. He doesn’t want to create more noise within the ton, or to focus attention on you—on why someone might want you dead. But if, at this point, we raise a hue and cry and openly try to pursue him . . . we have nothing. He simply has to sit tight and wait us out, and if he’s wary of you, simply avoid you for a time—which, all in all, would be easy enough.”

“But ultimately he wants to be able to move freely among the upper echelons of the ton,” Stokes said, “so at some point, when he feels safe again, he’ll come after you again. He isn’t going to let you live, even if he has to be careful for a time.”

James held Stokes’s gaze. A moment passed, then he said, “What you’re saying is that the only way to keep Henrietta safe—permanently safe—is to conceal the fact that we’re aware of this gentleman-villain, aware of his intention to kill her, and to . . . what? Let him have a chance at her?”

“Not exactly,” Barnaby said. “We need to keep Henrietta safe and thoroughly protected—that goes without saying—but we need to play our hand quietly, stalk this man silently, and let him think it’s safe enough to have another try at her. But when he does, we’ll be there, and then we’ll have him.”

“As it stands,” Stokes said, “regardless of what any of us might wish, the only way we can permanently ensure Miss Cynster’s continued health is to identify and catch this man. And the only way we can do that is to let him think it’s safe enough to step out of the crowd and show us his face.”





Chapter Eleven



They spent the rest of the morning discussing the most pertinent question, namely how to keep Henrietta safe. To James’s relief, his lady love, once she’d recovered her composure and her customary poise, deigned to agree with him and the others; they were given to understand that, in light of the seriousness of the situation, she was willing to suspend her usual independence and endure being guarded, essentially twenty-four hours a day.

After defining ways to achieve that, and agreeing over who needed to be apprised of the situation, Stokes and Barnaby departed.

Along with James, Simon stayed for luncheon. As luck would have it, both Lady Louise and Lord Arthur were also lunching in; over the dining room table, James, Henrietta, and Simon shared all they knew, and, after the inevitable shock and exclamations, outlined how they all needed to proceed.