Beset by a complicated amalgamation of regret and love, shame and anticipation, he pushed himself to his feet and set about tidying up the disorderly packing material in the nursery.
It seemed impossible that his wife’s scent lingered even here, but he tasted it in the air. Berries. Sweetest in the late summer. She’d forever remind him of breakfast. His favorite meal until he’d feasted upon her—
Slamming a crate shut, he realized he couldn’t be only a wall away from where she bathed without going mad. He retreated to his study, intent upon getting some work done.
By God. She was in here too. The walls might as well have been smeared with marmalade. She permeated every corner of his thoughts, and now there was nowhere in his house to escape her.
Slumping into his office chair he dropped his head onto his palm and rubbed at a blooming headache. God he was tired again. He’d not slept for longer than three hours for… well, he couldn’t remember how long.
And it didn’t seem that would change in the near future.
Blackwell and he had conceived of a plan to concentrate their investigative efforts on the Wapping docks. His interrogation of the crooked officer the other night had been the first link in a supply line of narcotics, and other smuggled goods, that was more twisted and dangerous than the web of the most venomous spider. Morley, or rather the Knight of Shadows, had been spinning his own webs, beating answers out of countless men. Throwing them to what police he’d known still operated aboveboard.
Or, in some of the cases where he’d been forced to defend himself… throwing their corpses into the river.
All fingers pointed to the Commissioner, Baron Clarence Goode.
His bloody father-in-law.
However, the shipments had dried up entirely. Abruptly, in fact. And because of this, crime wars brewed in the gambling dens and rookeries of the underworld, and Morley couldn’t be certain the city was ready for what was about to hit it.
Or how many casualties the impact would leave behind.
Christ. He was just one man. Who could he trust to—?
A few heavy, staggering sounds reverberated on the ceiling above him before a great, thunderous crash drove him to his feet.
The master bedroom. His wife!
Feeling as though he’d been kicked in the chest by an unruly horse, he took the stairs three at a time, sprinting down the hall until he exploded through the door, shearing the latch.
His very shaken, very nude wife was attempting to pull herself into a sitting position from where she’d sprawled on her back, using a toppled marble table to stabilize her.
He lunged forward. “Don’t move,” he barked in the same commanding voice he’d used on countless criminals.
She’d already frozen when he’d burst in, but his words had the opposite effect, sending her scrambling to find something with which to cover herself. “Oh, bother,” she groaned. “I-I don’t… I’m all right. I just need—need a towel. Please. Please go.”
“Don’t be foolish,” he admonished as he hit his knees next to her, his hands hovering over the slick, lithe lines of her prone form, searching for injuries. “What the bloody hell happened?” he demanded. “Did you hit your head? Is anything broken? Can you move all your limbs? No, never mind, don’t try to move. I’m calling for a doctor. Bart?” he bellowed. “Where the bloody hell is he? Did no one hear you fall hard enough to shake the house? Bart!”
“No!” She seized his shirt when he would have risen with one desperate claw, keeping the other arm ineffectually over her breasts. “I don’t want anyone to see me!”
“If he sees you, I’ll replace his eyes with hot coals. I’m calling him to send him for the doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I am perfectly well, I simply—”
“You don’t get to make that decision, a slip like this is serious, especially in your condition! Must you fall so bloody often? I order you to take more care with your footing!”
He put his hands on both her shoulders to keep her still as she tried again to sit up. His grip slid as her still-slippery limbs flailed in a wild attempt to fight him off.
After a few slick and ineffectual endeavors, he succeeded in pinning her arms at her sides, leaving her gleaming body completely bared to him.
He resolutely examined only her eyes, as he leaned above her. They held no indication of the clouds one noted with a head wound. In fact,