Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(42)

“His eyes are golden brown when he’s intrigued by something. He’s regal-looking and handsome, but he’s more interested in formulas and solving crimes than he is in me or poetry. He acts devilishly warm one moment, then frigid the next,” I said. “So there will be no children or any beautiful paradise in our future. Most of the time I cannot even tolerate his presence. His arrogance is… I don’t know. Annoying.”

“Silly. Arrogance usually hides something below the surface. It’s your duty to unearth it.” Liza dabbed my lips with her fingers, then shook her head. “It’s truly tragic.” She handed me a napkin. “Now blot.”

I mimicked her motion of blotting my lips with the napkin, taking careful pains to not smudge the color she’d stained my lips with. When I was done to her satisfaction, she nodded, then pointed to the looking glass on the vanity. “What’s tragic?”

She raised her brows. “You’re in love with him. And he’s most certainly in love with you. You’re just both being obtuse.”

“Trust me,” I said, facing the looking glass. “He’s the foolish one.”

“Well, we must show your foolish boy this girl, then. I’m sure you’d become an equation he’d desperately enjoy solving.” She tapped my nose. “Wield your assets like a blade, Cousin. No man has invented a corset for our brains. Let them think they rule the world. It’s a queen who sits on that throne. Never forget that. There’s no reason you can’t wear a simple frock to work, then don the finest gown and dance the night away. But only if it pleases you.”

I stared at Liza for a few beats, seeing her in an entirely new light. She nodded toward the looking glass again, somehow knowing I hadn’t truly seen myself before.

My reflection shone back, lit almost as if the heavens themselves were shining down on me. Dark strands of hair were piled atop my head, my eyes more mysterious somehow with the dark liner, and my lips were the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood. I was beautiful and dangerous at once. A rose with thorns.

I was precisely who I wanted to be.

“Oh.” I turned from side to side, admiring the full look. “It’s lovely, Liza. You must teach me how to do this.”

I thought of my mother and the saris she’d brought me to wear from Grandmama’s homeland. I felt just as stunning now as I did then, and the memory warmed me.

Mother used to dress us up and hire a cook to make savory delicacies for us every month, hoping to keep the traditions of India alive in us. Father happily participated in our worldly dinners, eating raita and fried breads with his hands.

We’d drag Nathaniel in for our feasts, but he was always unimpressed by eating without silverware. He’d say, “I cannot tolerate being so messy,” then storm out in his little suit. How I missed those simpler days.

Liza ran her gaze over my ensemble, then immediately rummaged through her trunk, tossing dresses and corsets and fabrics over her head until she settled on one.

“What’s wrong with my dress?” I asked, touching the rose embroidery on the skirts. “I just had this one made.” And it was quite beautiful.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, silly,” Liza said. “But I’d love to see you in my tea gown. Ah. Here it is.”

A cream lace gown with pale pink underskirts was promptly thrown over my head and tied in the back before I even knew what was happening. Liza wiped her hands off in a gesture of finality. Pleased with her efforts. “There. You’re darling. I always wished my hair was as dark as yours. Makes the green of your eyes nearly emerald.”

I stood there, staring at my image. It seemed a horrid contradiction to the reality of the world and what was going on in it. Here I was, playing dress-up while Uncle was in the asylum and a murderer was butchering innocent women.

Liza was at my side steadying me before I collapsed onto the divan.

“I know,” she nodded sagely, misinterpreting my thoughts, “it’s a gorgeous gown. You must keep it. Come. It’s time to greet our guests. I’ve heard Victoria and her sister Regina are coming. Their father does something with Parliament and I’ve heard the most interesting rumors…”

It felt as if I were watching through someone else’s eyes the events unfolding before me.

Aunt Amelia sat at the head of the table, a queen holding court during her royale tea. Liza sat on my right while the esteemed Victoria Edwards sat on my left, her button nose turned permanently upward.

A royale tea was different from high tea in that it began with a glass of champagne and did not include supper. That much I remembered. Sandwiches, savories, scones, and sweets were laid out across the table, more riches and delicacies than all of Nathaniel’s favorite imported cheeses and fine foods combined.

Uncle’s arrest was responsible for my nerves, making me forgetful. It had been only a few months since I’d last attended such a formal tea. And though I didn’t care for them, I wasn’t normally so distracted.

I stirred my tea then set my spoon behind my cup, as was proper.

Victoria turned to me, a slight smile fixed to her face. “I’m so sorry to learn of your uncle, Audrey Rose. Must be quite difficult having such a ruthless criminal in the family.”

I’d just taken a bite of a cucumber sandwich and barely swallowed my surprise down. Liza jumped in, rescuing me with her quick tongue.