Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(12)
Liza looked at me sadly. “Sweet cousin, I know you didn’t harbor feelings for Mephistopheles. I was actually talking about Thomas.”
I opened my mouth and shut it as I turned the notion over. “Thomas has not…” I shook my head. “He’s not courted anyone before.”
There was an uncomfortably long beat of silence that stretched between us.
Liza plucked at the frills of her skirts. “Are you certain? Has he actually said those words to you, or are you guessing?”
“I—” I went to argue, but—as was the case where matters of the heart were concerned—my cousin was blastedly correct once again. “I imagine he would’ve mentioned by now if he’d courted anyone in the past. He’s always been so serious about his work with Uncle.” Liza seemed ready to say something else but pressed her lips together instead. I sighed. “This is ridiculous. Thomas doesn’t have a former lover who’s seeking to ruin our wedding. Say that were even possible, how might she know of our betrothal plans?”
“Rumors. Gossip. You know there’s nothing quite as scandalous or delicious as a good romance. Especially since you and Thomas have become well-known in London. A butler or servant might’ve seen correspondence and started a chain of ill-kept secrets.”
“If we’d sent out invitations or even letters to our families, that might be.” I picked my tea up and let the fragrant steam soothe me. “Maybe it’s Jian or Houdini or someone else from the Moonlight Carnival who’s playing a rather cruel joke. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent an anonymous letter to someone.
You know their sense of humor is a bit warped.”
The more I rambled, the more unlikely my guesses became and the more uneasy I felt. My cousin’s expression hardly helped mend my worries. Liza plastered on a smile. “You’re probably right. I’m sure after ten days of annoying you, kissing you once for all of two seconds, then running off to the next city to find another conquest, the ringmaster has set spies on you and wishes to ruin your hypothetical wedding by sending notes to newspapers across the pond.”
Bloody hell. I regretted telling her about the unfortunate kiss. Thomas,
however, took it all much better than I deserved. He only wished I’d kneed Mephistopheles in a sensitive body part for taking advantage of me.
“Brat.” I finished off my tea, grabbed my cane, and headed for the door with as much confidence as I could muster. “I’ll simply ask Thomas about any romantic entanglements right now.”
“Excellent idea.” Liza eyed the bookshelves near my fireplace. “Would you like me to stay until you return?”
I knew she’d like nothing more than to curl up with a good romance novel, and I didn’t want my worries to stop her from enjoying her evening. I shook my head. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
It was much harder to creep around a house I was unfamiliar with at night, and my cane clicking against the thin carpet didn’t aid my stealthy pursuit. I cringed each time it made contact with the floor, praying Uncle was preoccupied with sleep. Though after our morning of investigating, he was likely awake studying his journal entries, hoping Inspector Byrnes would still send word at this hour.
Mrs. Harvey was staying on the same floor as Liza and me and wouldn’t mind if she did catch me sneaking around. In fact, she might push me off toward Thomas’s chambers all while humming pleasantly to herself. During our time on the RMS Etruria, she’d gone as far as practically encouraging me to sneak off to visit Thomas after she’d given me a note from him requesting a midnight meeting.
I was extra grateful that my father and aunt hadn’t arrived yet. There would be no predicting where either of them would be at this hour. Ever since Mother’s death several years ago, Father rarely slept and wandered the halls of our home late into the night like a restless ghost.
When I came upon Thomas’s door, I found it partially open. I peered in through the crack, curious as to what he might be doing. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d deduced my unannounced arrival. The lamp on his bedside table was on and the fire was softly crackling in the corner. The room itself was a deep blue, like the darkest part of the ocean.
With its carved mahogany furniture and strong color scheme, it fit Thomas perfectly. I tried to keep my attention from lingering on his bed, but its rumpled state was hard to ignore. Papers lay scattered about it and journals were stacked in chaotic towers. I half expected to find him propped up against the headboard,
dozing like a tired prince resting on a throne of books.
My stomach turned a few times when I recalled he was reading Jack the Ripper’s entries. He’d mentioned it once in Romania and had tried again while we were crossing the Atlantic. I still wasn’t ready to know what my brother had to say about his crimes. I felt relief knowing the journals were with us, though, safe from anyone who might harm them or share their secrets.
Feeling like an intruder, I knocked. “Thomas?” I called softly. The aromas of cinnamon and sugar wafted nearby. I pushed his door open wider, mindful of any creaking hinges. “Cresswell?” I craned my head into the room. “Where in the—”
“Please tell me all of my salacious dreams are finally coming true.”
I jumped backward and cursed as my cane clattered to the floor. I spun around as gracefully as I could and glared. “What are you doing sneaking about corridors at this hour?”