Will scribbled something on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. ‘It’s my number. The library’s shut on the 25^th and 26^th, but I’m here between Christmas and the New Year. Or we could meet over a drink to talk about your research. Two heads and all that.’

Lou shoved his number into her pocket. ‘Thank you. And thanks for the hot chocolate … sorry, I …’ She ran from the room, passed Mrs Rogers and pushed out through the doors into the dark evening.

Dodging puddles, she rushed down the High Street, George Caxton polluting every thought. The truth was worse than she had imagined. He had destroyed the lives of so many people. The coroner should have installed a revolving door just for him; he had spent so much time in the court, playing the grief-stricken husband or friend.

Had the evidence of George’s actions not been so overwhelming, she wouldn’t have believed anybody capable of such evil. Surely nobody in their right mind would murder a friend for something as ridiculous as the threat of revealing his debts to his father. Especially when the Caxtons were rolling in cash. The information she had gleaned from Mary made it sound like George’s father had paid off plenty of George’s gambling debts in the past, so why not that one? What made poor Riley so different to everybody else George had owed money to? What had singled Riley out?

Arriving at Hill House, Lou stood before the rusty, twisted gates. What remained of the once intricate filigree metal work was obscured by the faded warning posters. She stepped through, the heat in her blood burning just beneath the surface of her flesh. This time when she witnessed Hill House morph into a welcoming stately home, the experience was flooded with sadness. George Caxton wanted to take a sledgehammer to this place and demolish it brick by brick and destroy everyone inside. But why did he hate the Mandevilles so much that he wanted to wipe them from the face of the Earth?

The icy breeze nipped Lou’s hands and chilled her legs through the woollen tights that replaced her jeans. Greedily, she soaked up the cold. She had to take her rage off the boil. Fate, karma, chance, divine intervention, whatever it was that had brought her here and put her on a collision course with the Mandevilles, had finally revealed its purpose for her. It had presented her with evidence of George’s intentions and the brutality he would commit in the future, if events remained unchanged.

Tom was the only person who could stand in the way of George. Tom would never allow George to tear his family apart. He would never let George discredit the Mandeville name with his false accusations. Free of scandal, Sir Charles could live a full life and when he died a natural death, it would be Tom, not Edward, who inherited the baronetcy. With Tom in his rightful position as the head of his household, Charlotte wouldn’t be forced into a marriage with George. Whatever it took, Lou would make Tom marry Emma; it was the only way to ensure he would resign his commission and return home to take up the vacant job Lady Mandeville had suggested. It wouldn’t be the half-life he feared. It would be a good life. He would be happy.