Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(55)
“There, there. Don’t cry on the silk, dear.” She handed me a handkerchief that was a yellow so bold it almost dared anyone who used it to remain sad. “Tell me about your Thomas.”
I sagged against the settee, letting my head drop back. I stared at the ceiling
—it had been painted to match the night sky. I picked out constellations before I recognized some from the orchid painting Thomas made for me while we were in Romania.
“As you know, he’s betrothed to another,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
She pinched my knee and I yelped in surprise. Glaring, I rubbed out the throbbing spot and gave in. “It isn’t the most pleasant subject for me at the moment,” I said. “What does it matter if you know more regarding him or not?
We cannot proceed with our marriage. He belongs to her by law. Thinking about it is only making me feel worse than I already do. And I’m exceptionally miserable.”
“Good.” She jerked her chin in approval. “You need to let those rancid emotions out. They’ll only fester the more you lock them up. You don’t want infection spewing into other areas of your life, do you?”
My lip curled in disgust. What an attractive thought. Comparing heartache to an abscess in need of lancing. “What’s done is done. I have no more control over the situation than Thomas does. He cannot go against his father; the duke has made it nearly impossible. So then what, pray tell, do you suggest reliving those putrid emotions will do? It only makes it worse—dwelling on things I can never have.”
Grandmama grabbed my cane from me and stamped it against the floor imperiously. “You fight. You fight for what you want. You do not wallow or
surrender. The lesson is not in lying down and allowing yourself to be stabbed, child. It’s in pushing yourself up and battling back.” Her eyes flashed. “You fell down. So? Will you stay there, weeping over skinned knees? Or will you brush off your skirts, adjust your hair, and carry on? Do not relinquish your grasp on hope. It’s one of the best weapons anyone possesses.”
I shut my mouth. There was no need to argue. Grandmama clearly didn’t understand how impossible our situation was. I sipped my tea and forced a smile. I wouldn’t destroy her optimism the way mine had been destroyed. She shook her head, not fooled by my performance, but we didn’t speak of impossible things again.
TWENTY-FOUR
A STUDY OF CONTRASTS
GRANDMAMA’S GRAND FOYER
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
7 FEBRUARY 1889
The sun had long since relinquished its reign to the moon when Thomas returned to my grandmother’s house. Silver shafts of light played across his face, giving him an otherworldly look as they cut jagged lines in his already angular features.
Light and dark. A study of stark contrasts, much like our work.
If he hadn’t walked in of his own accord, but required an invitation, I might soon believe vampires roamed the earth. He seemed to have aged a thousand years since the last time I saw him. I wondered if I appeared the same.
Tension swarmed in as if it had followed him in from the cold. His overcoat dripped melted snow onto the hexagon tiles in the foyer, nudging a slight frown onto the butler’s face as he took the offending garment and derby hat.
I’d been caught halfway between the corridor leading from the parlor and the grand staircase when he’d barged in, his attention falling on me instantly. For a moment, we both stood frozen, unsure of what to say. He didn’t look like he’d hoped to see me so quickly. A piece of my heart withered. Thomas and I were never at a loss for words.
Silence stretched uncomfortably as I took in his wary expression and the slight tightening around his mouth. I swallowed down my sudden rush of emotion.
“My grandmother is home and wished to say good night to me.” I held up a cup of tea by way of explanation, making the situation even more
uncomfortable. “Rose and hibiscus with a spoonful of honey. It’s quite nice for a winter’s night.”
Thomas didn’t so much as blink. His face was devoid of all emotion, leaving me nothing to read. I should have left him alone, clearly that’s what he wanted, but I couldn’t help but draw out our time together for one more moment.
“Where are Daciana and Ileana?” I asked, trying to sound pleasant. He lifted a shoulder, toeing at the floor his eyes were now fixed upon. I gave up. It was difficult enough being in his presence without his cool behavior. “Well, then. I-I’m glad you’re home. Well.” I silently cringed. I needed to flee immediately.
“Good night.”
“Audrey Rose, wait.” He held his hand out, nodding at my refreshment.
“May I?” I longed to be alone in my misery but passed the cup over, watching as he winced a bit from the temperature. “Where would you like me to bring this?”
I waited half a beat before responding. Surely my Thomas would have some inappropriate quip, some untoward suggestion. He’d hint about my bedchambers or other more salacious nooks and crannies to steal kisses in. His expression remained perfectly blank.
Unshed tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t stop imagining him calling on Miss Whitehall. Spending an afternoon getting to know her, giving her the smile he’d used on me.
“There’s a study on the second floor,” I said, slowly making my way up the stairs. It was particularly drafty tonight, and the cold seeped into my bones, causing my ever-present stiffness to worsen. “You can leave it there; I’ll be in shortly.”