Capturing the Devil Page 11

“I adore it, Thomas.” I ran a finger over the dragon’s scaled head, words stuck in my throat. “I am honored you wished to share your family’s legacy with me.”

“I didn’t want you to think it was claiming territory.”

I laughed outright. “Oh, Thomas. I truly love you.”

Whatever shyness or uncertainty he’d felt earlier was gone. His attention was sure and steady, and he boldly inspected me. He moved his gaze from my eyes to my lips, where it lingered a moment. I swore the boy possessed the ability to set a person ablaze using one smoldering look. “I want you to always have choices.”

Choices. Those would be grand. I glanced at the mound of journals waiting for us on the table. There was much work to be done. So many mysteries left to unravel. My head knew we needed to focus on solving these crimes, but my heart wished to curl up in front of the fire, pull Thomas into my arms, and kiss him until we were both blissfully happy. I permitted myself one more moment of this fantasy life—pretended we were the sort of couple who needn’t trouble ourselves with anything other than reading the paper and tending to the house.

A mental image of a woman lying split open snapped me back to reality.

Ever in tune with me, Thomas helped me to my feet and sighed. “You start in on the journals; I’ll fetch us more tea.”

I snagged his arm and kissed him deeply. I ran my hands through his hair, then stepped back, pleased by his tousled, surprised look. “Bring some scones and clotted cream, too. And maybe a few more petit fours. I adore those little candied flowers on top.”

Around four o’clock, I gave up on the journals. Nathaniel had scientific notes mixed with quotes from Dante, Milton, and Shelley. His train of thought was hard to follow and it appeared as if madness had overtaken him, though I had a nagging feeling that I was missing a crucial clue hidden within his ramblings. No matter how hard I tried, I kept reading the same sentence, my gaze returning to the second hand of the clock as it anxiously ticked along.

Uncle had left nearly an hour ago to meet my father and aunt at the docks.

Each time a carriage rattled by, my heart pounded through my body in a wild, thrashing beat. I moved my new cane from one hand to the other, focusing on the smooth rosewood and fierce dragon to soothe my nerves. Liza and I had changed into finer dresses, and my lavender skirts were quite the contrast to my menacing, red-eyed dragon cane.

“Remember, your father worships me, Wadsworth.” Thomas dragged me from my spiraling worry, expertly reading each shift in my mood. “Leave charming him to me.”

My lips twitched upward. “Yes, well, if that’s true it’s a clear indication Father’s abusing his tonic again.”

“Or he’s got horrible judgment,” Liza added, grinning at Thomas’s scowl. “Don’t be cross, Mr. Cresswell. I’m only stating facts. You know, those bits of logic and hard truth you adore subjecting the rest of us to incessantly?”

“Wonderful,” he said, “you’re both hilarious now.”

“You started it,” I said, now focused entirely on him and not my nerves.

Thomas offered an amused grin from behind the journal he’d been engrossed in all day. I very maturely stuck my tongue out, and his eyes darkened in a way that had my pulse speeding for other reasons. Despite my best efforts, my cheeks flushed warm and the rogue winked, turning his attention back to his reading material. I all but rolled my eyes.

Liza stood several times, drawing back the heavy velvet drapery, staring down into the street. She sat beside me, picked up her needlework, then tossed it down and practically ran to the window the next time wheels clattered by. Her skirts seemed to increase in volume depending on her mood, and today they were ruffled and fluffed to within an inch of their lives. She was as nervous as I was. Perhaps a little bit more. Aunt Amelia was a force to be reckoned with on a good day. I feared today would not be one of her more gracious days.

“This is ridiculous,” Liza muttered. “It’s not as if our parents are going to murder us.” She glanced sharply at me over her shoulder. “They wouldn’t get away with murdering their own children, would they?”

“Depends on how well they dispose of your bodies.” Thomas just managed to dodge a pillow that flew by his head. I smiled as Liza huffed a few unladylike curses under her breath.

In a continued effort to give me freedom, my father had granted me permission to sail to New York with Uncle Jonathan and Thomas to assist with a forensic case, but Aunt Amelia had been worried into a fit when Liza vanished without so much as a note. Learning that her well-bred daughter had in fact run away to join a floating carnival likely turned all that fear into a raging fury. I suspected my aunt might become hysterical upon seeing Liza. She might very well lock her away in a tower.

I pasted on my brightest smile. “Your mother is going to be very relieved to see you.”

Likely after she let loose a litany of admonishments and chained Liza to her rooms for the remainder of her natural life. My cousin gave me the sort of look that called me on my lie, but she turned her attention back to the street, her face turning deathly pale.

“They’re here.”

“Very funny.”

“Truly.” Liza held a hand to her center. “Your father is stepping out from the hansom now.”

I wondered at the sudden void of nerves. It seemed as if my heart either skipped a beat or had ceased to move entirely. I snuck a peek at Thomas, hoping for him to appear as uneasy as my cousin and me, but he sprang to his feet with a jaunty hop.

I stared, openmouthed, as he bounced from foot to foot.

He caught my eye. “What? Can’t a young man enjoy a good hop every now and again without judgment?”

I shook my head. “Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“About what?” he asked, a crease forming between his brows. “Seeing your aunt and father again?”

For a near genius, he could be quite obtuse. “Oh, I’m not sure. How about that small task of asking my father for my hand in marriage?”

“Why should I worry over that?” Thomas helped me to my feet, his smile returning in full force. “I’ve been waiting for this day like a child counting down the moments until Father Christmas arrives. If it were humanly possible, I would’ve swam to England and flew your father here on da Vinci’s ornithopter the second you told me your wishes.”

“You’re—”

“Impossibly handsome and utterly charming and yes, yes, you’d love to ravish me right this moment. Let’s hurry, now, shall we?”

My cousin snorted from her position by the window. “Now I understand why Audrey Rose calls you insufferably charming, with much emphasis on insufferable.”

Thomas tossed an arm around Liza and steered us both through the doorway and into the corridor. “If you find me intolerable now, just wait until we’re cousins, too. I have a special talent for annoying family members most. Just ask my father.”

At this my cousin seemed to shed her nerves. Thomas didn’t speak often of his family and it was cause for great intrigue. “When will we be meeting your father?”

Liza didn’t seem to notice the moment of hesitation, or the quick tightening of his jaw, but I’d been carefully watching. It was there and gone within the same breath. I didn’t know much of his father’s side of the family, but I’d gathered enough from Thomas’s stories to know theirs was a relationship with much strain.

“Whenever he feels the need to show up and woo us with his charm,” Thomas said. “If you think I’m extraordinary, wait until you have the luxury of meeting Lord Richard Abbott Cresswell. He puts me to shame. Which he will remind you of. Often.”

Liza abruptly halted, her mouth dropping open. Worries of her mother’s scorn were now the furthest thing from her mind. “The Duke of Portland is your father?” She flashed an accusatory glare at me. “You knew his father is a duke?”

I slowly shook my head. Thomas’s mother had a distant claim to the Romanian throne, and I imagined his father—who he’d said married for business, not love—would have chosen his bride carefully. Lord Cresswell was not the type of man who’d marry below his station. Though I’d never asked outright, I’d assumed he was either an earl or possibly a duke.

There were a few Cresswells in the aristocracy; I just didn’t know Thomas’s father was the highest ranking of them. A twinge of worry crept under my skin. Society would whisper about me even more once they found out. I’d be called all sorts of unpleasant names.

As if she were privy to my thoughts, Liza exclaimed, “If you and Thomas marry, you’ll be deemed an upstart!”

At that very moment, the front door opened. The smile that had been on my father’s face faltered. “Who will dare to call my daughter that?”

NINE

A DESPERATE REQUEST

GRANDMAMA’S GRAND FOYER

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

22 JANUARY 1889

Aunt Amelia stood behind my father’s formidable form, likely crossing herself against the thought of societal condemnation. It hadn’t taken but thirty seconds for me to draw her singular focus. I glanced at the ceiling rose, wishing it would magic me out of this situation. Liza shot me an apologetic look but bit her tongue. Her mother’s attention would now be solely devoted to polishing any imperfections out of me. Aunt could never resist a charitable project.

“After I soak in a warm bath and remove the stain of transatlantic travel, we ought to spend time practicing your stitching,” Aunt said by way of greeting. “Volunteering for the less fortunate will also help mend any rumors. Perhaps you may put your medical interests to use. You might aspire to be the next Clara Barton.”

Uncle, who’d been patiently silent while everyone crowded into the foyer, rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear sister, that’s a wise suggestion indeed. If Audrey Rose were at all versed in the field of nursing, it might be an even wiser idea. Since she tends to the dead, we’ll have to search for other charitable means for her. Corpses aren’t in need of medical supplies or darned stockings.”