Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(44)

Women were harlots and upstarts while men were experienced and savvy. Oh, how I loathed the world.

When I pictured our secret tryst accidentally being exposed… my thoughts immediately shifted to Liza; this could affect her own future. People would whisper of her lowly, wanton harlot of a cousin. She’d be made a jester in her social circles.

Not that she’d be invited anywhere, because of the scandal. I covered my face, as if that might block the growing sickness of just how much had gone wrong. It seemed a cruel twist of fate, that something born of love could evoke such hatred.

Father and Uncle stayed behind, arguing facts and sorting out the situation, according to my aunt’s endless chatter when she’d come in to check on me at some point. There was another debate brewing on whether or not Miss Whitehall had shared the news with her extended family. If there was no public proof of her supposed betrothal to Thomas, then it could go away without involving the courts. If she’d sent letters, then there was nothing we could do until it was solved through proper legal measures. If it could be solved through legal channels. Thomas might be unable to break the agreement.

I couldn’t retain anything anyone said after that declaration. Betrothals were so rarely created out of love; they were business maneuvers, and as such there were many rules and regulations once one had entered into them. To imagine Thomas legally bound to another—I leaned over my skirts, praying I didn’t vomit on my gown.

First the shock of my brother and a second Jack the Ripper… and now this. I rubbed my temples.

Aunt Amelia and Liza had left me in my room with promises of tea and spiced wine and other things that would not mend my shattered heart. Nothing they could bring would calm the growing storm raging inside me. If only we’d waited a few more hours, this would be wretched, but at least I’d have one less thing to feel ill over. One less life I’d ruined.

Shoving aside worries over my forsaken virtue and how it could affect my family if anyone found out, I had no idea what to make of the situation. I hadn’t thought Thomas courted anyone else. Yet he knew who Miss Whitehall was immediately upon seeing her. They had to have had some interaction or encounter. She certainly seemed both familiar with and fond of him. And the way she’d smirked at me as if I was an opponent…

I rubbed my temples a bit harder, trying to recall exactly what he’d said when I’d inquired about his romantic history. I was fairly certain he’d claimed to have loved only me. But what did that mean in truth? If I dissected it, there was no mention of interest in another. He very well could have indulged in a romance with her. Perhaps it was meaningless to him, but clearly feelings were involved for her. Or, at the very least, finances.

I swiped at my tears. I wanted to take the vase of orchids someone had placed on my nightstand and smash it against the wall. It was startling, how quickly my emptiness filled with anger. My hurt needed an outlet, and fury at least made me feel something other than hollow. I didn’t care if there had been anyone else—

the lies or falsehood was another matter. Especially after I’d directly asked Thomas about it a few weeks prior. He might not have agreed with my spending time with Mephistopheles, but I’d warned him first. Thomas knew my plan to infiltrate the carnival and get close to the ringmaster; he simply didn’t like that decision.

Which had been the entire source of my sliver of doubt. It was the first time I worried he might not be the person he claimed to be. That his insistence I proceed in another manner was a preview of what life would become, the more comfortable he was around me. I feared it was only going to get worse, that he’d

start exerting his command in small ways until I eventually looked to him to see how I ought to feel. Men in our society were bred to falsely believe they knew best. Of course a sliver of doubt had crept in. He’d unintentionally gouged a hole in my deepest fear. But this? This was unthinkable.

I may have stumbled a bit, had fears of trusting in us, but I never pretended away my indecision. Even when admitting my hint of doubt, I’d told Thomas the truth. It had nearly broken us both, but I’d told him each fear in my heart, sparing no detail. I’d given him the choice, whether or not he could still love me, despite my confusion. My choice had never centered on another person. Though Mephistopheles certainly tried his hand at manipulating my feelings. My struggle was always on the direction of my life and how well I knew myself.

Miss Whitehall was not a direction. She was a living, breathing reminder that Thomas and I had known each other for only a few months. There was much about him that I still didn’t know. I almost cringed at the thought of what other secrets he’d yet to reveal.

“What have you gotten us into now, Cresswell?” I whispered.

It was medically impossible, but I swore my heart rattled instead of beat, the jagged pieces cutting me with each cursed movement. Inside I was a torn, bloody mess. Outside I feared I wasn’t faring much better. I couldn’t settle on which emotion was winning out: anger or pure emptiness. How silly of me to believe in happy endings when I lived and breathed in darkness.

I ought to have known better. Fairy tales don’t end well for the imposter princess. No amount of artistry or cunningly placed pieces of moss and flowers could make my enchanted forest a reality. I was a damned thing. I might as well be the devil’s heir. At least then I wouldn’t have to hide who or what I was.

“How are you?” Liza entered my bedchamber without knocking, her expression the most solemn I’d ever seen it. In a way her mood was a relief—it certainly felt as if a part of me had died and we were mourning it together. I laughed, the sound hysterical to my own ears. Of course. I’d be the one who’d planned a wedding but ended up with a funeral. I was the queen of death. A princess of corpses. Everything I touched decayed.