“Em,” Brewster whispered.

I laid my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll bring her. You and she are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

The surgeon gave me a final nod, the last of the sunlight touching his balding head. “I will return in three days.”

Without further word, he walked out. I followed, but the surgeon moved quickly, and I did not catch him until he’d reached the bottom of the stairwell.

“What do I owe you?” I asked him. “Beyond what Denis pays you, I mean. You saved his life.”

The surgeon looked me up and down, his eyes so cold, with no pride in what he’d just done. “As I told you before, Captain, my price is silence. I have no other.”

With that, he opened the door and walked out into the darkening lane.

Grenville came clattering down after him. “Strange fellow, but remarkable.” He put on his hat. “I am off to fetch the good Mrs. Brewster. Poor lady—I’ll break it as gently as I can.”

“Thank you. Can you also get word to Donata? Tell her what has happened and to keep Gabriella home. Tell her I will come as soon as I can.”

“I’ve sent Jackson back to Mayfair already,” Grenville said. “The surgeon’s house was close enough and the streets so crowded it was easy for me to go on foot.”

A knot eased inside me. Grenville was a good friend and a wise man.

Grenville continued. “Mr. Denis requests that I send you up to him. I believe he wishes to confer.”

“Mr. Denis is eager to give orders in my own rooms,” I said, but I was too tired and worried for anger.

“No doubt he wants to know what happened. He saw me as I went sprinting down Drury Lane and into the heart of molly territory. I shudder to think of the newspapers tomorrow. Denis insisted that his carriage bring us back, but I have never seen him so angry. Even that business in Norfolk didn’t enrage him as much I think.”

Grenville nodded at me, slipped out the door, and was gone.

I climbed the stairs and entered my front room. Denis had moved there, and was lighting candles. He was not one for sitting in the dark. He’d also drawn my curtains, so that the light would not show us to those outside.

Denis pointed to the chair by the fireplace, indicating I should sit. “Tell me about this man who shot Mr. Brewster.”

To remind him of my independence, I took the straight chair at the writing desk. I soon regretted my decision, because my leg was starting to ache, with a deep hurt that I knew would stay with me for days.

“I know nothing about him,” I said. “He has been sending me threatening letters, he rode at Peter and me in the park, and tonight he shot at me. He looks like me and has my voice, though he sounds as though he’s been living elsewhere in the world. I’d never seen him before.”

Denis took the wing chair and cross his trousered legs. “A relation?”

I shrugged, pain seeping through my entire body now. “If so, I’ve never known of him.”

Denis touched his fingertips together. “I will find him, have no fear of it. I will explain to him that I do not like gentlemen shooting one of my own.”

“To be fair, he was aiming at me, not Brewster. Brewster jumped in the way.”

Denis’s eyes went hard. “I was talking about you.”

I met his gaze as silence fell between us.

I did not want to belong to him; I hadn’t from the day I’d met him. And yet, there now existed between us a complicated mesh of obligation, favors, secrets, and gratitude that I would never untangle. I did not know whether Denis had won the game, or entangled himself in it as well.

“I would be obliged,” I began, “if you would keep this person away from my family.”

“That shall be done,” Denis said. “I sent two of my men to South Audley Street as soon as Mr. Grenville babbled out what had happened.”

More knots loosened. “Thank you.”

Denis merely rested his hands on the arms of the wing chair. He hated being demonstrative.

We waited in silence for a little while. One of the candles, wax, Donata had insisted, gently crackled as its wick drew up fuel.

My curiosity would never let me sit quietly for long. “The surgeon,” I said, “who remains nameless. What on earth did he do?”

Denis’s brows lifted a fraction. “He is a killer.”

So Brewster had intimated when I’d first asked. Knows exactly where to stick the knife if he has to … Brewster had said.

“More specifically?” I asked. “Did he do away with his wife? A patient? He seems so very cool that I cannot imagine him losing his temper and stabbing a man with his scalpel.”

“There is nothing amusing about him, Lacey. I will tell you so that you do not go blundering about asking him. He murdered, not one man, but a dozen.”

I went still. “A dozen?”

I’d killed men myself, in Mysore, on the Peninsula, in other places during the long wars. I’d fought for my life, to win battles, to take my men to safety.

One man killing another in anger, in a fight or struggle in London’s streets was understandable. A dozen bordered on horror.

“Why? Is he a madman?” I’d never met a calmer, more collected madman if so. “Please do not tell me he killed his patients for the scientific knowledge of it.”

“Nothing so macabre.” Denis’s voice was quiet. “He is an extremely competent surgeon and is quite angry if one under his care dies. But he knows how to kill quickly and efficiently, exactly where to cut, what to sever. Other men began hiring him to do so. I believe he asked a reasonable fee and did the job so competently it left no trace. He was caught not because of anything he did, but because the last man who hired him panicked and told the magistrates. The surgeon did not discover this in time to leave the country, and he was convicted of two of the murders. His sentence was commuted to transportation, possibly because I asked it to be done, but more likely because of his professional skills. Someone like him would be needed in the colonies.”

“You employed him?” I asked. “Is that how you knew him?”

Denis’s eyes held no emotion I could see. “No, indeed. Someone else employed him to kill me. Needless to say, he was not successful.”

“Your guards stopped him?” I asked.

“My guards were useless against him. He got past them all and into my bedchamber.”

I stilled in amazement. Denis never, ever let anyone get close enough to him to so much as touch him.

Denis went on, “I am alive because he let me talk to him, and then I paid him a large sum, far larger than the other man had given him. It was that employer who went to the magistrates. He was terrified I’d send the surgeon after him.” He shrugged. “I was tempted, but that would have been too obvious.”

I pictured the situation, two men of equal sangfroid and ruthlessness squaring off.

“If you paid him, why did Brewster tell me you considered yourself in his debt?”

“Because the surgeon’s professional pride did not want him to turn on his employer. I persuaded him, and he liked the idea of having me under his obligation. So … I worked to get his sentence commuted, and I provided the means for him to escape that confinement when he wished. And so when you kept asking to send for him …” Denis shook his head. “You do try my patience, Captain.”

“An explanation might have saved you much trouble,” I said.

His fingers moved on the chair arms. “I forget that you will not leave well enough alone simply because you are told to.” Denis gave me a severe look. “For this man who is trying to kill you—leave that alone as well. I will hunt him and find him.”

My irritation stirred. “You wish me to ignore a man threatening me and mine?”

“No, I wish you to take care of your family while I and my men find this person. Go to Norfolk as planned; do not alter your journeys without telling me.”

Were I the only one in danger, his guarding me might grate, but I would do anything to keep Gabriella, Peter, and Donata safe.