Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(64)

He clenched his jaw but shook his head.

“And what about Jack the Ripper?” I asked, gently pulling my hands free.

“Would we run away from solving that, too?”

He shrugged. Thomas would set fire to the case—and the world—if it meant we could be together. Not out of malice or uncaring, but out of his love and devotion to me. It wouldn’t be easy for him, but he’d do it. No matter how much I wished otherwise, I couldn’t turn my back on it or my family—I’d be turning my back on understanding my brother and on speaking for all of the women who

lost their lives. And all the others who were sure to die in the future if we didn’t stop him. Thomas might believe he could walk away from it now, but I knew he’d come to regret it. Just as I would.

“Do you remember what we talked about, once we’d reached New York?

About our work?” I asked.

“Of course.”

I swore I was about to stick a scalpel into my own chest and twist it. “Then you must know our work has to come first. We cannot run from this case. Not when we’ve got so much left to do. We started it together; we must find a way to end it.” I glanced toward the window, watching snow fall in heavier flakes. “If your father won’t be reasoned with, perhaps Miss Whitehall will change her mind once she sees how important your work is to you. Maybe she doesn’t care if you hate her, but she might mind a husband who would rather dissect cadavers than touch her. Surely she will hate the whispers around London about your disinterest.”

He was quiet for a moment, absorbing my words. I hoped he didn’t see it as a refusal of him. I’d give anything to have a simple life together. He exhaled.

“I loathe when you’re reasonable.” He crossed his arms, though his lips quirked. “One day it’d be nice if you agreed with one of my grand romantic gestures.”

“One day when I’ve got nothing better to do, I might.”

He narrowed his eyes and sat forward, his new look intent. “Relationships are about compromise, are they not?”

I was immediately wary of where he was heading with this. “Yes, but… our short-lived courtship is technically over.”

He swatted away the technicality as if it were a fly. “Our marriage is compromised because of my father and his disinheritance threats. Let’s think this through. If I cannot find proof of his deception, I have only one option, according to my father. I am legally bound to Miss Whitehall and will be on the next boat. Which leaves”—he glanced at the clock—“in a few hours.”

Still suspicious, I nodded. “True.”

“Your theory that the Ripper has moved on to another city… if we had a good reason for leaving New York—one your uncle would agree to—we might slip away before my father realizes I won’t be at the docks and comes to collect me.

Correct?”

“Thomas…” Involving Uncle in this mess was the last thing I wished to do.

“Audrey Rose,” he said urgently, “if we can deduce where he’s gone and

continue our investigation there, it’ll give us a legitimate reason to delay my departure. We’d have more time to solve the Miss Whitehall issue without ruining your family’s name. Otherwise I have two options. I’ll either be disowned and hunted if I don’t get on that ship tonight, or I will be legally bound to another. Is that something you can honestly live with?”

I closed my eyes, envisioning Thomas stepping onto a boat, greeting his father and soon-to-be wife. The image was so crisp, so lifelike, I gasped. “Your father will not simply give up and travel back to London. He’ll come looking for you. And who knows what he’ll do then?”

Thomas took my hands in his again, his face earnest. “I will deal with his wrath. I need to know this is something you want.”

“Of course I want you.” How he could think I wanted anything else was beyond common sense or logic. A fresh wave of panic flooded my system.

“What happens if we can’t find a good lead for the Ripper? What if we don’t have any other city to investigate by the time you have to leave?”

Thomas hugged me close. “We’ll figure something out.”

I shook my head. “Uncle will not leave here on a whim. I know him. He’ll need convincing evidence to prove there’s a good reason to go.”

“We have a few hours.” Thomas sounded a bit uncertain about this desperate plan for the first time. “We’ll find something. We have to.”

“And if we don’t?”

He was quiet a moment. “Then I’ll run. I’ll disappear so thoroughly my father will never have a chance to find me.”

We gazed at each other, absorbing that fate. If Thomas ran away from his father and responsibility, he’d also be leaving me behind. My head swam with worry, but I also needed to do something. Time was slipping away from our grasps.

“Let’s hurry. We’ll tear the journals apart if we need to. Or we’ll scour the notes from Miss Tabram’s case. There’s got to be a clue somewhere.” I accepted Thomas’s hand as he helped me up. We made our way into the corridor arm in arm, and I wondered if his heart was beating as furiously as mine was. “What if

—”

“None of those, Wadsworth.” Thomas patted my hand. “When. When we find the information, we’ll tell your uncle. When we’re far away from here, we’ll worry about consequences. For now, let’s focus on our immediate concern. I’ll go speak with your uncle and tell him our theory about the Ripper leaving New York. You start in on our notes or journals.”