The King's Evil

flowers, he brought them himself. Where he might have upbraided her for quitting London without telling him, he simply told her how delighted he was that she had returned to the city. Inhaling the scent of the flowers, Penelope took her fiancee into the parlour. She put the basket on the table.

'How did you know that I was back?' she wondered.

'I paid the housekeeper to send word the moment you returned.'

'We did not arrive until late evening.'

'The message came first thing this morning.' A note of reproach sounded. 'Though I would have preferred it to come from you rather than from the housekeeper here.'

'I was not sure that you were still in London.'

'Would you have tried to find out?'

'Of course, George.'

'Is that why you came back? In the hope of seeing me?'

'That was part of the reason.'

'Good!'

He took her in his arms and pulled her close. Penelope allowed the embrace without really enjoying it. The rift between them could not be mended quite as easily as that. He stepped back to appraise her.

'You look wonderful, my darling!'

'Thank you.'

'London has been so dull without you.'

'How have you occupied yourself while I was away?'

'Attending to my business affairs,' he said evasively. 'Your father's death has left things in a very confused state. There has been so much to disentangle, Penelope. It will take me weeks.' 'You and Mr Creech together.' His face clouded and he looked away. 'George, what is the matter?'

'You have still not heard?'

'Heard what?'

'About poor Mr Creech.'

'What has happened to him?'

He turned back to her. 'His body was pulled out of the river.'

'Oh, no!' she cried, bringing her hands up to her face. 'Mr Creech, murdered as well? This is dreadful news!'

'It has certainly complicated things for me,' he said irritably. 'All of my commercial transactions went through his office.'

'When did you discover this?'

'Some days ago.'

'Before I left London?'

'Yes, Penelope.'

'Why ever did you not tell me?'

'Because I did not wish to distress you any further. You were still shocked by your father's death and by the discovery of those letters. I tried to spare you another blow. Besides,' he continued, trying to shift the blame to her, 'you spent all of the time arguing with me. I had no chance to tell you about Creech.'

'You should have found the chance,' she scolded. 'He was our lawyer. We had a right to know. It was wrong of you to keep this from me. I cannot understand why you did it.' He reached out to take her by the shoulders but she pushed his hands away. 'No, George. Leave me be.'

'Penelope, I am sorry.'

'An apology will not cover what you have done.'

'I merely withheld unpleasant news out of consideration to you.'

'You would have shown more consideration if you had told me the truth. I am not a child. Heavens, it was crucial that I knew. Mr Creech was responsible for my father's will. All our affairs were in his hands. And now he has been murdered. Why?' 'They are still searching for the killer.'

'Is it the same man who murdered my father?'

'Who knows? It may be.'

'What motive could anyone have to kill a harmless lawyer?'

'Do not agitate yourself about it.'

'But you lied to me.'

'No, Penelope!'

'You deliberately held the information back.'

'Only because it would have upset you too much.'

'I am much more upset now that I realise what you have done. It was cruel. I had planned to see Mr Creech while I was here. Mother asked me to call on him. It is one of the reasons that I came.'

'But not the main reason.'

'No, George.'

'You came back to London to be with me, didn't you?' he said with a grateful smile. 'And I am so pleased to see you again. You came here so that we could put all those silly disagreements behind us and start afresh.' He reached out once more but she took a decisive step back. 'Penelope!'

'I did not come here to see you,' she said levelly.

'Who else?' His anger was instantaneous. 'Not him again!'

'I need to speak to Mr Redmayne.'

'I have already had words with him myself.'

'This is a private matter, George.'

'Oh, no, it is not!' he yelled. 'I am directly involved and I made that abundantly clear to him. You are my future wife, Penelope. He needed to be forcibly reminded of that. Mr Christopher Redmayne will not try to come between the two of us again.'

'What do you mean?'

'He will be too busy licking his wounds.'

'Wounds?' she repeated in alarm. 'Is he hurt?'

'It was no more than he deserved.'

'What did you do to him?'

'Forget Redmayne. You will never hear from him again.'

'But I must,' she said, concern blending into affection. 'If he is injured, I must go to him at once. He cares about us. He has been a light in all this darkness.' She headed for the door. 'If you have hurt him, George, I will never forgive you.'

Fuming with rage, Strype moved quickly to block her exit.

'Let me pass, please,' she said firmly.

'You will go nowhere, Penelope.'

'Will you dare to stop me?'

'If need be.'

She had never seen such menace in his eyes before. It helped to confirm a decision with which she had been toying ever since their earlier argument. Penelope felt remarkably cool. There was not the slightest regret. Crossing to the table, she picked up the basket of flowers and carried them across to him. She held them out with contempt.

'Take them away, George.'

'But I brought them for you.'

'I want nothing of yours in this house. Ever again.'

Infatuation gave her no respite. Having thought about him constantly for well over a week, Margaret Littlejohn had been drawn back as if by a magnet to Fetter Lane. Even though she had been told that Christopher Redmayne was not there, his house still held a magic for her. She would never forget the one time she had been