Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(122)

My attention shifted to the headline again, and I hardened my resolve.

H.H. HOLMES

AN ARCH-FIEND’S RECORD

“I don’t want to have another case like this one go ‘unsolved,’” I said. “With your deductions and my forensic skills, we will be quite a force to be reckoned with. Consulting on investigations—I can’t imagine a more fulfilling vocation.

Our partnership and combined expertise will be beneficial to many. If they won’t listen to us about who Jack the Ripper is, we’ll keep searching for definitive proof, but we’ll also do our best to never allow another career murderer to go unpunished.”

Thomas held the ring in his hand, squinting at it as if it might speak to him.

After a moment, he bit his lip. One of the signs he was stalling.

“Well?” I asked. “What sort of smart, witty remark are you debating?”

“I beg your pardon, dear Wadsworth.” He drew back, holding a hand to his heart. “I was imagining our very own sign hanging above the door to our agency.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And?”

“I was trying to picture what we’d call it.”

The tone he used was innocent enough, which indicated trouble on the horizon. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was slowly turning into my uncle.

“Please. Please do not suggest that combination of our names again. No one will take us seriously if we call ourselves the Cressworth Agency.”

His eyes flashed with mischief. It struck me that that was exactly what he’d hoped I’d say, granting him the perfect opening for his real intentions. I waited, breath held for the truth.

“What do you think of Cresswell and Cresswell, then?” His voice was casual; however, his expression was anything but. He held the crimson diamond up, never taking his attention from mine. Always and forever watching for the slightest hesitation. As if he would ever not belong to me wholly. “Will you marry me, Audrey Rose?”

I glanced around the room, searching for any upturned bottles or signs of elixirs.

“I thought I already agreed ages ago,” I said. “You’re the one who slipped the ring off my finger. I fancy it right where it’s been.”

He shook his head. “I realized I’d never asked you properly. And then the debacle at the church…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the ring. “If you’ve changed your mind about taking my name, it won’t bother me. I only want you.

Forever.”

“You have me.” I touched the curve of his lips, my pulse racing as he playfully nipped at my fingertips. “Is it not enough that we’ve made the happiest of memories this past year? Traveling and living as husband and wife in every sense of the term?”

“I do rather enjoy that part. Now if you’ll just drink too much wine and dance inappropriately, I will die a very happy man.”

His wicked mouth pulled into a grin. He slipped out of bed, ring in hand, and went down on one knee. A sweet vulnerability entered his features as he presented me with the crimson diamond once again. Sir Isaac Mewton, who’d been tolerating our movements in bed thus far, flicked his tail and hopped to the floor. He offered us one annoyed look before dashing out the door. Apparently he was through with declarations of affection for now.

“Audrey Rose Wadsworth, love of my heart and soul, I long to spend forever with you by my side. If you’ll have me. Will you do me the tremendous honor of

—”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, our lips brushing as I whispered, “Yes.

A million times over, Thomas Cresswell. I want to spend forever adventuring with you.”

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.

—ROMEO AND JULIET, ACT 2, SCENE 2

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE





BEYOND LIFE, BEYOND DEATH; MY LOVE FOR

THEE IS ETERNAL

CRESSWELL’S COUNTRY ESTATE

ISLE OF WIGHT, ENGLAND

ONE YEAR LATER

Thomas and I waited, side by side, on the grounds of Blackstone Manor for the exact moment the sun turned the color of sleep. It was a drowsy pink—the kind of lazy shade that took its time fading into darkness. Thomas had charted the colors of the sky each night over the last two months, capturing each shade of tangerine or rose, calculating down to the minute how long we’d have before it collapsed into the purply black of night.

Waves lapped at the shore, the mist rising around the craggy bluffs. It reminded me of spirits, and I wondered if our mothers had managed to bridge the gap between life and death after all. They were certainly represented in both my ring and the heart-shaped locket I wore.

I heard a rather loud sniffle and fought a grin. I’d expected Mrs. Harvey to be sobbing into her handkerchief; I did not expect to see my aunt bawling with Liza’s arm slung about her.

I met my father’s eyes and saw joy shining in them. Uncle sat beside him, trying to ignore Sir Isaac as he settled onto his lap. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe a few tears had also slipped from his eyes. Daciana and Ileana sat together, their gowns sparkling like magic dust in the setting sun. Next came Mrs. Harvey and Noah, both dabbing at their eyes.

The most surprising addition was Thomas’s father. The duke sat with my grandmother and gave us both a small nod, the action enough to inspire hope for