Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(61)

We waited, my grandmother, Thomas, the butler, and I, standing like soldiers preparing for war. Daciana and Ileana had taken over reading the journals, assisting us and also keeping themselves out of what was sure to be an unpleasant greeting.

No one moved from the carriage. Another moment ticked by. Then another.

The seconds on the clock ticked, ticked, ticked, in time with my heart.

“What are they waiting for?” I asked, growing almost as annoyed as my grandmother.

Thomas tapped his hands against his sides. “Father knows stretching a moment out causes anticipation. It unsettles. Any bravado fades when what we expect to happen goes slightly awry.”

“Well”—Grandmama’s eyes narrowed—“he does not know with whom he’s playing these games. Trying to unsettle a poor old woman.” She shook her head.

“What has the world come to?”

At this I grinned. Grandmama might be older, and her arthritis brutal, but she wore those years like burnished armor. Only a fool would think her an old helpless lady. She was the woman who taught my mother to sharpen her mind as if it were a blade.

Mercifully, the coachman hopped down from his seat, consulted with someone inside, then made his way to the front door. The butler waited until he knocked before opening it.



“Yes?”

The young man removed his cap, twisting it in his hands. “I’ve come to fetch Mr. Cresswell for his father.”

Grandmama elbowed in front of the butler, scowling. “Do you believe he’s a hound, boy?”

“Ma’am, I—O-of course not. It’s just—”

“I will not have any guest who’s staying under my roof be treated thusly. You may come back at a more decent hour.” She nodded to her butler and he gladly slammed the door in the poor coachman’s face. “Now let’s see how your father enjoys such hospitality. The rudeness of some men is eclipsed only by their arrogance. Come”—she hit the ground with her walking stick—“let’s go back to bed. We’ll receive the duke in the morning. First thing, I’m sure.”

Liza crawled under my covers, eyes wide as I told her each detail of Thomas’s father’s arrival. “The nerve!” she whispered. “He ought to fear your grandmother and her stick. The way she swings that thing about.” She shook her head. “How do you think it’ll go?”

I yawned, rolling onto my side. The sun was nearly up, which meant I needed to join it. The Duke of Portland would arrive soon, no doubt.

“He’s a Cresswell,” I said. “There’s no telling how it’ll play out.”

Much too soon, Liza helped me into a rather complex gown for the early hour.

Considering the laboratory work that needed to be done with Uncle, it was hopelessly impractical. It was meant to be worn after my wedding—Daciana had insisted I change for the evening dinner celebration, so it was a dreamy, whimsical thing. Much too pretty for breakfast. Though I agreed it was best to appear as regal as possible while meeting Thomas’s father for the first time. No matter the pain he caused, I wished to make a good impression.

If only to make him regret his meddling.

“Two interlocking braids pinned at your crown will show off your mother’s locket.” Liza lifted my hair to demonstrate the effect. “See?”

“Beautiful,” I agreed, clutching the necklace. It comforted me, knowing Mother would be there in some fashion, offering me strength.

Liza had just finished pinning the last piece of hair up when Thomas entered my room. He stopped short, attention immediately going to my hips. The gold



lace fit snugly against my body, allowing the tulle skirts to fluff out around it.

The effect was like a sunrise peeking through a wispy cloud. Judging from his expression, Thomas approved.

I spun the engagement ring around my finger, frowning. “Oh. I-I keep forgetting to give this back.”

I awkwardly tugged it off, but Thomas shook his head. “That belongs to you.

Plus, my father ought to see it on your finger. Where it will remain, regardless of his demands.” He glanced at my cousin, who busied herself by fluffing her own skirts.

She met his look, brows raised. “Would you care for a moment alone?”

I went to say it was unnecessary, but Thomas responded quickly. “Please.

Thank you.”

As she closed the door behind her, I found it hard not to run into his arms.

He, too, had dressed meticulously well this morning—his suit smart and fashionable.

“Before you meet my father, there’s something I’d like you to know.” He didn’t hesitate as he crossed my room this time; confidence was back in each step. He paused before me. “If you’ll still have me, there is nothing in this world, no threat mighty enough, to keep me from you. I want my father to see us, a united front, and know we will not be broken.”

“Thomas—”

“I’m rejecting Miss Whitehall directly after this meeting with my father.

Yesterday, I visited a barrister originally from London and discussed the possibility of forgery. I did not write that letter. I heard from him earlier and I cannot be held accountable, nor does the engagement stand in court.” Thomas took my hand in his. “When we go downstairs, I will be introducing you as my wife-to-be.”