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for which I’m thankful. He has entry to circles where you cannot venture.”
    Bott opened his mouth as if to disagree again. Then he slid a cryptic look at Thane and lowered his eyes in acquiescence. “As you say, sir. I will, of course, bow to your superior judgment.”
    Thane understood the ambition behind the man’s objections. The Bow Street Runner had a vested interest in solving the case himself. He didn’t want anyone else poaching on his turf, let alone someone who outranked him.
    Thane decided to throw him a bone. “Smithers has given me quite a bit of information about the murders. I’ve done some poking around on my own, but it would help if you told me everything you know. I’m sure your perspective will be most invaluable.”
    Bott hesitated, then launched into a detailed account. “As you know, the first victim was Maria Wilkes. A night watchman stumbled upon her corpse at dawn while taking a shortcut through Hyde Park. She had been strangled to death some hours earlier. Since her garb clearly identified her as a maidservant, I made extensive inquiries around Mayfair and found that she’d been employed as a housemaid by a Lady Entwhistle.”
    Smithers looked at Thane. “What do you know of Her Ladyship, m’lord?”
    “I’ve been checking into her associations,” Thane hedged. “Until I find out more, it would be remiss of me to sully her name without due cause.”
    Little did they know, the merry widow’s reputation was already tarnished in the best circles. Lady Entwhistle was renowned for her many affairs, including frequent romps with a select group of gentlemen. For the purpose of the investigation, Thane had cultivated an acquaintance with them. He wondered what Miss Lindsey Crompton would say if she knew that her suitor, Lord Wrayford, was one of those scoundrels.
    That fact would make a far more damaging scandal than the IOU she’d stumbled upon while rummaging through Wrayford’s desk. The same paper Thane had plucked from her bodice the previous evening.
    His fingers still burned from brushing against the silken warmth of her breasts. The memory was so vivid, so consuming, he had been in a perpetual state of physical discomfort ever since. She was lovely, to be sure. Yet it was her saucy character and sparkling blue eyes that lifted her above this season’s crop of insipid debutantes.
    That and her blatant scorn for men of his ilk.
    Shifting position on the chair, Thane realized to his chagrin that Bott was still talking. The Runner had moved on to discuss the second victim.
    “. . . Dorothy Huddleston’s body was discovered in another area of the park, farther down the Serpentine. The circumstances were much the same, only this time a gentleman’s cravat was found lying on the ground beside her, as if the culprit had dropped it in haste. Through my inquiries, I was able to discover she was employed by an elderly couple, a Lord and Lady Farthingale.”
    Who, interestingly enough, lived on Bruton Street, two doors down from Wrayford. It might be a meaningless coincidence, but Thane intended to keep a close watch on Wrayford as a possible suspect. He had already questioned a maidservant in Wrayford’s house—the same girlThane had been with when he had first encountered the cheeky beauty Lindsey Crompton.
    “May I add,” Bott said in a conspiratorial tone, “news of the second murder has spread like wildfire throughout the servant class. They’ve dubbed the culprit the Serpentine Strangler.”
    “Good God,” Smithers muttered darkly. “If the news sheets hear of that moniker, it will be emblazoned in headlines everywhere. And it is bound to spark an outcry from the upper classes as well. They’ll be demanding my head on a pike if I don’t capture this villain.”
    “You’ll be pleased to know,” Bott went on, “I was able to track down the family of the second victim in Brighton. It seems Dorothy Huddleston was literate enough to send letters to them. She wrote about