Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(29)

It’s been too long, but worry not, I’ll see you soon enough. Be ready.

I flipped the card over, searching for any clue regarding the sender, but that was it. Two lonely lines. It was written in a hand I didn’t recognize, but it had a feminine feel to it, if such things could be applied to ink on parchment. I cursed myself for sending the previous letter up in flames. Now there was no way to be sure if it had been sent by the same person.

Daciana and Ileana were shopping for their presents for Thomas, so I’d inquire about it when they returned. Since the post was delayed, they’d probably arrived first. I exhaled. That was likely it. My nerves over Thomas’s party—and our engagement announcement—were granting my imagination permission to act out.

To ease my worry, I returned to the dining room, checking it over once more.

Aunt Amelia walked in, her sharp gaze landing like a blow on each detail of the room. I went to fumble with my gloves, then stopped. The birthday party would be a success because we were celebrating Thomas. Little did my aunt know, we’d also be celebrating our shared news. I didn’t want to ruin my evening by developing an acidic stomach because the linens weren’t pressed within an inch of their lives.

Tonight, the only thing that would stand out in our memories was being surrounded by our loved ones. In ten years, I’d think back to the butterflies fluttering in my center, the quiet anticipation of unveiling the dessert table along with my ring.

Bolstered by what truly mattered, my own gaze swept across the room as

surely as it assessed the dead. I was confident in the laboratory. I would be here, too. There was no reason I couldn’t marry the two parts of my life together as well.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” I asked cheerfully. My aunt pursed her lips but nodded.

“Thomas will be pleased with the whole roasted boar. Though I suspect he’ll be mesmerized by the sweets.” I lifted my cane, pointing out the table filled with desserts from all over the world. “I imagine he might skip the main course entirely.”

Aunt Amelia drew in a long breath. The idea of eating only sweets obviously broke all sorts of polite society rules, though she was too well-bred to argue if Thomas wished to dine on pastry. He outranked everyone in the house, though he never acted as if he did.

She cleared her throat delicately. “The iced-cream swan is exceptional. I can’t imagine the artistry involved with crafting the mold. The details of the seeds for eyes is…” Aunt wet her lips, seeming to think long and hard about her next words. It was a miracle. “It’s a feat even Her Majesty would be inspired by, I’m sure.”

“Thank you.” I flushed, pleased by her hard-earned praise. I walked over to the life-size sculpture. It was grand. Liza had chided me for fussing, but the end result was magnificent. “Those are actually licorice drops. I hired a confectioner as well.”

At this my aunt appeared rather impressed. She lifted her chin in approval.

“Lovely touch. Have you seen to the wine list? You’ll need to pair it well with each course. Although”—she strummed gloved fingers across the linen—“you may wish to not serve red tonight.”

I’d given my cousin as much freedom as she wished in choosing the pairings.

I had focused on ordering champagne and rose petals for our toast. I didn’t know why my aunt was opposed to a red blend. Before I could inquire, she continued, crinkling her nose.

“No one needs to be reminded of blood. Especially after that horrid article.”

My focus snapped to my aunt. “What article?”

Seemingly irritated for having brought it up, she marched over to the sideboard and pushed a newspaper into my hands. They trembled ever so slightly as I read the headline.

ATROCIOUS MURDER.

Another Crime of the “Jack the Ripper” Type in New York City.



Without giving me a chance to finish the dreadful piece, she plucked the paper from my fingers. “I’ll mention the wine situation to the butler. You’re certain everything else is ready?”

“Yes, Aunt.” My response sounded wooden even to my own ears, but I feared the mask of calmness I’d donned was slipping. This was a nightmare. No matter how far I traveled or how hard I pushed it from my mind, Jack the Ripper stalked me, invading every aspect of my life. Before she could whip my nerves into a bigger tizzy, I dipped my head. “Excuse me. I need some air before the festivities begin.”

A small courtyard sat behind Grandmama’s home, bordered on all sides by the buildings that comprised her property. Snow-dusted ivy crawled along the walls, and I imagined in the summertime it was alive with wildflowers, swaying in the breeze off the Hudson River.

Too soon, my thoughts twisted into something sinister. I pictured those same vines wrapping about the neck of an unsuspecting victim, strangling the life from her before thorns dug greedily into her skin, spilling blood. My vision became so real, I almost smelled the unforgettable scent of copper.

“Jack the Ripper is truly here,” I whispered to myself, breath puffing in the cold. I shuddered to think what my mind might conjure up now that the Ripper was up to his dark trickery again. Last time, werewolves and vampires had haunted me.

A pale marble statue of an angel grabbed my attention, startling me with its size. I caught my breath, chiding myself for being jumpy. It blended in with the snow and stone walls, though now that I was looking closely, I couldn’t fathom how I’d glanced over something that majestic.