Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(23)

Here it was. I gripped the dragon a bit more tightly. “To be honest, sir, I hadn’t planned on feeling so strongly for another. I-I tried fighting it, but I truly believe I’ve found my equal. I cannot imagine a more perfect partner to walk hand in hand with through life.”

“Please. Sit.” Father indicated the tufted chair across from him. Once I perched on its edge, he continued his inspection. “You’re almost of age, but I fear there’s much you’d be giving up. Why not come back and ask me this in a year’s time? If your love is true, it won’t be hindered by another few months. If anything, it will blossom further.”

It felt as if someone had struck a blow to my chest. Each time I imagined this scenario, I didn’t see my father pushing off our betrothal. A few months ago, he’d been secretly trying to match me with a detective inspector who hailed from an impressive family. Now he wanted me to wait. Neither of those spoke of what I desired.

“With all due respect, Father, Thomas and I have withstood events most couples will never face. We’ve been tested, and each bump, twist, and crack hasn’t broken us. It’s only made our bond stronger. I could wait another year or two or ten, but it wouldn’t matter. The truth remains that I am in love with Thomas Cresswell and I choose to share my life with him.”

“What of your studies? Will you give up what you’ve fought so hard for simply to become a mistress of a house?” Father took a sip of wine from a goblet I hadn’t noticed. “Granted, Thomas hails from quite a lineage, so your home will be grand. Is that what you want from life? If you choose not to marry, you’ll be heir to our property.” He looked at me closely. Here was yet one more choice.

One more bar being removed from my cage. “Once you marry, all of that will revert to your husband. And he will be fit to do with it as he pleases without your counsel. Are you certain that’s what you wish? Do you know Thomas enough to trust him with such matters?”

I waited for it, the tremor of fear. The familiar thrum of hysteria building in my body, urging me to flee. It didn’t come. If anything, my resolve turned molten hot before hardening into something unbreakable.

“I trust him entirely. He hasn’t simply told me things to win my affections and trust with words; he’s shown who he is through his actions. Never more so than when we traveled here last month. Thomas and I will write our own rules. I won’t stop my studies and he won’t stop his. Ours is a love built on mutual respect and admiration. I love Thomas for who he is. He doesn’t wish to change me, or cage me, or turn me into a perfect doll to tout about.” I took another deep breath. “In the event our marriage dissolved, he would never take my home or property from me. But,” I quickly added, seeing my father about to seize on that thread, “I do not believe ours will be an unhappy union. On the contrary, I believe this is the beginning of our story. We have countless adventures ahead of us.”

Father sat back, the leather of his chair creaking, and took another sip of wine. We stayed in comfortable silence, regarding each other for a few moments.

It wasn’t unpleasant. A fire crackled in the corner; the scent of leather and sandalwood wafted about. It was cozy and it felt good to simply be around my father again. Finally, he took a deep breath, seeming to come to his decision. His expression was utterly unreadable.

“Please have Thomas come in.”

“Sir?” I asked, hating the edge of worry in my voice. “You will agree, won’t you?”

“I may.”

Relief sluiced through me. I practically stumbled out of my seat and threw my arms around my father’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Father!”

He held me close, chuckling. “Now, now, child. Save your thanks for a little while more. Let’s first hear what your Mr. Cresswell has to say.”



Postmortem set, London, England, 1860-1870.





TEN

CORPSE DELIVERY

GRANDMAMA’S CORRIDOR

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY





22 JANUARY 1889


I snuck into the parlor and cracked the door open, watching Thomas stand outside the sitting room, squaring his shoulders as if readying for war. I supposed it was a battle of sorts—he’d be fighting for my hand against a father who didn’t wish to relinquish it just yet. It took all of my self-control to not go to him. He appeared determined, yet the way he stared at the closed door hinted at his own nerves. Not much ever subdued Thomas’s swagger, though it appeared that my father’s presence was doing a wonderful job of it. I’d made one more request to my father, and now it was up to Thomas to win this scrimmage for us both.

Uncle came around the corner, apron in hand. “They’re bringing a body

’round the back. I’ve set up the carriage house for the autopsy. Gather your tools and meet me there at once.”

My cheeks flushed as Thomas canted his head in our direction. So much for stealth.

“Are you—can it not wait?” I motioned to the room Thomas finally disappeared into. Uncle knew precisely what was happening and how important it was. “Thomas is—”

“Wasting time with matters of the heart when we’ve got a more important duty to uphold.” His eyes flashed in warning. “Do not remind me of his wayward priorities. Unless you’d like to both be taken from this case or any