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a Bow Street runner could bring anything but bad news. And after her sleepless nights, she felt far from confident that she could deal with any potential problem.
    Unfortunately, she feared that by sending him away she was only prolonging the inevitable. If the man desired to speak with her, then he would simply return. Perhaps it was best to meet with him and be done with it.
    â€œNo, thank you, Mrs. Benson. I will see him.”
    â€œAnd William?”
    Amelia stilled in fear. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe man be asking for William as well.”
    She pressed her hands to her suddenly quivering stomach. Had someone seen William in the alley the night before last? Was it possible that they thought him a suspect? Did they . . .
    Do not panic, she chastised herself sternly. She did not even yet know what the man wanted. It might very well be nothing to do with her.
    Still, it seemed wise to keep William out of the reach of the runner. Her brother could not be trusted not to reveal more than was wise.
    â€œHas William risen yet?” she asked in strained tones.
    â€œYes, Miss Hadwell. He is down enjoying a nice breakfast of fresh ham and toast.”
    â€œWould you ensure that he remains in the kitchen? I do not want him troubled by this Mr. Ryan.”
    An expression of determination hardened the thin features. However rattled the housekeeper might be, she would prove a formidable enemy to anyone foolish enough to threaten her beloved William.
    â€œDepend upon me, miss. I’ll not let that man trouble the sweet boy.”
    â€œThank you.” Drawing in a deep breath, Amelia forced her reluctant feet to carry her through the door and down the narrow hall. The house was too small to give her much opportunity to compose her thoughts, but she did manage a calm expression when she at last pushed open the door to the sun-filled parlor and regarded the large, boyishly handsome man that swiftly rose to his feet at her entrance. “Mr. Ryan?”
    â€œYes.” He performed a respectable bow. “Forgive me for intruding at such an awkward hour, Miss Hadwell.”
    â€œIt is no bother,” she lied smoothly, moving to perch upon the edge of a brocade sofa. “Will you not be seated?”
    â€œThank you.” He resettled his bulk on a nearby chair, his expression pleasant but unreadable.
    â€œWhat is it that I can do for you?”
    The runner seemed to study her composed features before clearing his throat.
    â€œI fear I have some rather distressing news.”
    Amelia swallowed heavily. “Indeed?”
    â€œYes, two nights ago a young woman was discovered murdered not far from here.”
    â€œHow . . . dreadful.”
    â€œMore dreadful than you know.” An unmistakable flare of frustration rippled over his broad face. “She is not the first to be so brutally slain. There has been a rash of murders for the past month. Most of the victims have been unfortunate prostitutes, but not all. There has been at least one nobleman discovered floating in the river and several less notable men who have simply disappeared.”
    Amelia’s queasiness returned as she recalled the lifeless body that she had seen. It was a horrid image she was certain would haunt her for nights to come.
    â€œYes, the papers have been filled with the distressing news,” she managed to murmur in low tones.
    His lips twisted. “And, of course, the utter failure of the authorities to capture the madman. It has not been a pleasant summer for Bow Street.”
    â€œI suppose it has not.”
    With an effort, the runner forced aside his simmering irritation and managed a tight smile.
    â€œStill, I did not come here to bemoan our lack of success. As I said, last evening there was a murder not far from here.”
    Amelia clenched her hands in her lap. “Do you know who she was?”
    â€œA poor woman of the streets, I fear. She came from the stews.”
    â€œI see. It is