Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(26)

I sighed. So much for stealing a few restorative moments alone. Was it the chambermaid coming to stoke the fire? I silently prayed my aunt hadn’t come to read any passages of scripture. I dipped further into the water and pretended I hadn’t heard her enter, focusing instead on unkinking each muscle. Soon enough, footsteps approached and I wished a thousand unpleasantries upon the intruder.

“Wadsworth?” Thomas called quietly, then pushed the door open, halting as I nearly splashed him in my haste to cover up. Of all the—

I crossed my arms in a feeble attempt at modesty. “Have you lost your senses?”

“If I hadn’t before, I certainly have now.” He blinked slowly, trying and failing not to stare at me in the tub. He didn’t have the courtesy to even blush—

he looked positively dumbstruck. As if he’d never encountered a body without clothing before. Perhaps just not one with a still-beating heart. I’d be flattered by his obvious response if I wasn’t so flustered.

“Get out!” I whispered harshly. “If my aunt or father sees you in here—”

“It’s all right. We’re engaged.” He shook himself from his stupor and knelt beside me, a small devilish smile playing on his lips. “That is, if you’ll still have me?”

“Father agreed?” Forsaking propriety, I almost leapt from the water into his arms, stopping myself at the last moment. “I can’t believe you kept that from me all afternoon!” I sat back and his focus shifted to where my bare shoulders met the water. His gaze darkened in a dangerously seductive manner, awakening a growing need in me. “At least be a gentleman and turn around.”

His expression hinted that he was far from a gentleman at the moment, and a quick inspection of my face confirmed I liked it. Excitement thrummed through me. I couldn’t deny enjoying the power of his deductions when he directed them at me, and I wondered what that extreme attention to detail focused entirely on my body would feel like.

“As a properly engaged couple, we’re permitted a few more liberties. For instance, we might spend time alone, behind closed doors.” He purposely scanned the bathing chamber, nodding toward the door. “Seems a shame to let those liberties go to waste.”

The scoundrel had the unmitigated gall to indicate joining me in the bath. As I turned that thought over, my entire body heated up, having nothing to do with the steaming water. I found the idea of bathing together to be—I splashed water onto my face. When I looked at him again, I noticed a slight furrow in his brow.

“Was there something else?”

“Other than informing you that we’re finally, truly engaged, dear fiancée?” I nodded, the word sending a little thrill through me. As if recalling he had a purpose more important than flirting, he pulled a small royal-blue pouch from his jacket pocket, his attention now fixed on it. “My sister arrived bearing gifts.”

I almost jumped from the bath again, but settled for craning my head around Thomas to see if his sister was making an appearance in my chambers, too.

“Daciana’s here?”

“She and Ileana arrived shortly after supper. I meant to surprise you.” He ran his thumb over the velvet pouch, seemingly lost in another place and time.

“Cresswell?” I gently prodded, my concern growing. “What is it?”

“A letter.”

He sounded so sad, my heart nearly broke. I motioned to the little pouch, wanting to drag him from his despair. “That’s the strangest letter I’ve ever seen.”

He glanced up through thick lashes, humor flickering in his eyes before he looked away. “Instead of being terrified of her imminent death and thinking only of darkness, my mother wrote us letters. She wouldn’t survive to see either of us married, but…” He shook his head, swallowed hard. His emotions were on full display, unlike earlier, during the autopsy, when he’d seemed so cold and remote.

“She wrote one for me to read upon my engagement.”

Forgetting about any cursed rules of the world, I reached over, water dripping onto the hexagon tiles, and laced my fingers through his. “Oh, Thomas. Are you all right?”

A single tear slipped down his cheek as he nodded. “I’d forgotten, almost,

what it was like. Listening to my mother’s advice. Her voice. The soft accent that was never quite British or Romanian, but somewhere in between. I miss her.

There isn’t a day that passes where I don’t wish for another moment with her. I’d hoard it away forever, knowing how precious it was.”

I gently squeezed his hand. In this most unfortunate circumstance, we understood each other too well. I missed my own mother terribly. While I was thrilled Father had finally agreed to our engagement, the wedding planning and celebration would be difficult to go through without her. Her absence—along with Thomas’s mother’s—played a large role in our second request to my father.

I hoped he’d consented to that as well.

“It is a gift, having her letters to look forward to,” I said. “They’re invaluable little mementos—proof that some things are truly immortal. Like love.”

Thomas swiped at his nose, smiling, though his expression was still too despondent for my liking. “Beyond life, beyond death. My love for thee is eternal.”

“That’s beautiful. Was it in the letter?”