Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(21)

I wondered at the sudden void of nerves. It seemed as if my heart either skipped a beat or had ceased to move entirely. I snuck a peek at Thomas, hoping for him to appear as uneasy as my cousin and me, but he sprang to his feet with a jaunty hop.

I stared, openmouthed, as he bounced from foot to foot.

He caught my eye. “What? Can’t a young man enjoy a good hop every now and again without judgment?”

I shook my head. “Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“About what?” he asked, a crease forming between his brows. “Seeing your aunt and father again?”

For a near genius, he could be quite obtuse. “Oh, I’m not sure. How about that small task of asking my father for my hand in marriage?”

“Why should I worry over that?” Thomas helped me to my feet, his smile returning in full force. “I’ve been waiting for this day like a child counting down the moments until Father Christmas arrives. If it were humanly possible, I would’ve swam to England and flew your father here on da Vinci’s ornithopter the second you told me your wishes.”

“You’re—”

“Impossibly handsome and utterly charming and yes, yes, you’d love to ravish me right this moment. Let’s hurry, now, shall we?”

My cousin snorted from her position by the window. “Now I understand why Audrey Rose calls you insufferably charming, with much emphasis on insufferable. ”

Thomas tossed an arm around Liza and steered us both through the doorway and into the corridor. “If you find me intolerable now, just wait until we’re cousins, too. I have a special talent for annoying family members most. Just ask my father.”

At this my cousin seemed to shed her nerves. Thomas didn’t speak often of his family and it was cause for great intrigue. “When will we be meeting your father?”

Liza didn’t seem to notice the moment of hesitation, or the quick tightening of his jaw, but I’d been carefully watching. It was there and gone within the same breath. I didn’t know much of his father’s side of the family, but I’d gathered enough from Thomas’s stories to know theirs was a relationship with much strain.

“Whenever he feels the need to show up and woo us with his charm,”

Thomas said. “If you think I’m extraordinary, wait until you have the luxury of meeting Lord Richard Abbott Cresswell. He puts me to shame. Which he will remind you of. Often.”

Liza abruptly halted, her mouth dropping open. Worries of her mother’s scorn were now the furthest thing from her mind. “The Duke of Portland is your father?” She flashed an accusatory glare at me. “You knew his father is a duke?”

I slowly shook my head. Thomas’s mother had a distant claim to the Romanian throne, and I imagined his father—who he’d said married for business, not love—would have chosen his bride carefully. Lord Cresswell was

not the type of man who’d marry below his station. Though I’d never asked outright, I’d assumed he was either an earl or possibly a duke.

There were a few Cresswells in the aristocracy; I just didn’t know Thomas’s father was the highest ranking of them. A twinge of worry crept under my skin.

Society would whisper about me even more once they found out. I’d be called all sorts of unpleasant names.

As if she were privy to my thoughts, Liza exclaimed, “If you and Thomas marry, you’ll be deemed an upstart!”

At that very moment, the front door opened. The smile that had been on my father’s face faltered. “Who will dare to call my daughter that?”





NINE

A DESPERATE REQUEST

GRANDMAMA’S GRAND FOYER

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY





22 JANUARY 1889


Aunt Amelia stood behind my father’s formidable form, likely crossing herself against the thought of societal condemnation. It hadn’t taken but thirty seconds for me to draw her singular focus. I glanced at the ceiling rose, wishing it would magic me out of this situation. Liza shot me an apologetic look but bit her tongue. Her mother’s attention would now be solely devoted to polishing any imperfections out of me. Aunt could never resist a charitable project.

“After I soak in a warm bath and remove the stain of transatlantic travel, we ought to spend time practicing your stitching,” Aunt said by way of greeting.

“Volunteering for the less fortunate will also help mend any rumors. Perhaps you may put your medical interests to use. You might aspire to be the next Clara Barton.”

Uncle, who’d been patiently silent while everyone crowded into the foyer, rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear sister, that’s a wise suggestion indeed. If Audrey Rose were at all versed in the field of nursing, it might be an even wiser idea. Since she tends to the dead, we’ll have to search for other charitable means for her.

Corpses aren’t in need of medical supplies or darned stockings.”

Aunt sniffed indignantly, turning her nose up. “Your grandmother’s home is lovely. Will Lady Everleigh be joining us this evening?”

“No, Aunt. She was in India according to her last letter, but insisted we stay here while I…” I glanced at my cane. I hadn’t mentioned my injury to my father

in any letters, and he’d been too quiet since entering the home. Seeing his attention directed at my leg with a furrow in his brow, I knew why he’d been silent. I had much to explain. “I—”