Page 148 of A Story of Love

“No, darling. I was most certainly not.” A familiar wave of nausea assaulted him, just as it did every time he thought about how close he had come to losing her. “The brute who grabbed you in the alley that night was a bloke named Carey, and he worked for the killer and—”

“Was named?” she broke in. “Is he…dead?”

“Yes, he was murdered later that same night.”

Lorelei reached for Fast’s hand and he clutched it tightly. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Fast.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I went back and forth about telling you the truth, Lorelei. I just—”

“I understand why you didn’t,” she said, her words surprising him. She gave a wry laugh. “I would have kept digging, Fast. I know that about myself.” She paused, and said, “You mentioned somebody had stolen the confession. Does that mean you never found out who killed your brother?”

“No. I found out who it was through his henchman, Carey. It was Bevil Norman, the Earl of Moreland.”

Her eyes threatened to bulge out of her head. “What? That—that cannot be true!”

“It is.”

“But…why?”

“Because Percy had found out what Bevil did to Louisa.”

She gasped. “You mean—”

“I mean that he did the same thing to her that he did to Martha and the other women,” Fast said.

It took a moment before she could seem to force any words out. “I read that Moreland died in a fire. He didn’t, did he? You never brought any of this before the authorities, did you?”

“How could I?” he asked, ignoring her first question. “I didn’t have the confession, and I didn’t have Joe Jensen. I had nothing. And then there was the fact that Bevil was holding Jensen’s younger sister hostage and threatened to kill her if I refused to meet him—alone. Jensen never got the chance to hand over the confession, but he did set me on the path to finding the killer. I owed it to him to save his sister if I could.”

“So you met a murderer…alone?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling at her thunderstruck expression. “And that meeting was why I wasn’t back in time to wake up with you that morning. Or have dinner with you.”

Her face screwed into an expression of confusion. “But…I don’t understand. This all happened almost a month ago?”

“Yes.”

She huffed. “Tell me about this meeting. All of it.”

Ten minutes later, Lorelei shook her head at him. “That was quite a risk you took meeting him at that remote place. He might have just shot you before you even entered the barn.”

“I knew he wouldn’t. Moreland was too smug—too arrogant. He’d gotten away with murder for too long and wanted to crow about it to somebody. To me. Besides,” he added wryly, “he believed that I’d stolen Demelza from right under his nose at that wretched house party. He wanted the chance to tell me how much pleasure he’d take in snatching her back once he’d killed me.” Fast’s hands flexed, his anger rising. “He took great pleasure in telling me how he’d made Louisa’s life hell.”

He looked up from his unappetizing thoughts to find Lorelei in front of him. She nudged aside his knees and perched on his lap before sliding her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, Fast. So terribly sorry.”

He drew her soft, comforting body closer. “I should have never left her to him, Lorelei. I only wish she had told me! If I’d known then what he had done to her—” he broke off and shook his head. “I should have guessed.”

“Why? You couldn’t have known about Moreland and how evil he was and the things he’d done.”

“Is that really true?” Fast asked, the question as much for himself as her. “Or did I willfully ignore the signs of his sickness? It is something I will revisit for the rest of my life. Bevil Norman was the closest to pure evil I’ve ever encountered,” Fast admitted. “And it disturbs me more than I can say that he was ever my friend.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Fast. A man like that was adept at hiding behind his mask. Why would any right-thinking person ever suspect what he was?”

He kissed her and then tightened his arm around her, wincing when her elbow nudged his side.

“What is it, Fast?” Her eyes narrowed. Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing serious, love, just a little graze from the first bullet.”