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Chapter Twenty-One
Before the Murderer killed a gentleman of the ton, they send them a warning. They had stolen thick, lush paper, as well as a pot of red ink. The Murderer wrote out the warning, keeping the wording the same, for all of them.
You will pay for your sins. I’m always watching, from the shadows where you sent me.
Once it was dry, the Murderer put a daub of the black wax, and pressed the skull and bones signet ring that they took from the very first kill. It was as good as their own now.
Once the wax had cooled, it was time to send the letter to the Duke. The Murderer had been sending him notice for years. When the Murderer arrived, the Duke would be very surprised. But he wouldn’t be surprised that they had come to kill him.
Making their way through the streets, they found the new boy that they’d hired to deliver their missives. Urchins roamed the London streets aplenty.
“Urgent delivery to the Duke of Tiverwell,”the Murderer told him, placing both letter and coin into the palm of his tiny dirty hand. He nodded, and then ran off. He would never betray Nemesis, because he was mute. Unlike the brother and sister, this boy would not be a loose end, and Nemesis would not have any more innocent blood on the score.
The Murderer followed the boy, to the house. It was all lit up in the night, warmth gleaming from every window.
The Murderer could see well-dressed people, gathered in an upstairs room. The Murderer moved around to the back of the house. Nemesis heard voices, whispering, somewhere nearby.
A man, and the Duke’s only daughter! Alone, in the garden—kissing!
They spoke, and then kissed again. The Murderer got down, into the bushes. Nemesis could not believe the sheer luck. Secrets were worth a lot. That was a secret which the Duke would pay dearly to be kept hidden.
The Murderer waited, until Lady Arabella had gone inside, then followed the man.
The Murderer threw one last glance back at the house. By then, the Duke had gotten the warning. With the recent deaths of two of his closest friends, he would know that there was a target on his back. He knew that he was going to die soon.
The Murderer followed the man through the streets. He walked confidently, much like a gentleman. However, he passed by all of the fine townhomes, making his way into the middle-class neighborhood. The Murderer waited patiently, following at just the right distance.
When he took out a key, and entered a neat, tidy townhouse, the Murderer stood on the street, watching him enter in surprise. He wasn’t a gentleman at all, then. The scandal that should arise from his romance with the Lady Arabella would be of epic proportions.
The Murderer turned away from the modest home. There were more things to be done. The Earl of Danbury was next on the list. The Murderer walked, hands buried in both pockets, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the knife.
Beneath their thin veneer, all gentlemen are the same.
What good would it do to reveal the romance? Perhaps it would be all the more damaging to keep it a secret.
