Capturing the Devil Page 29

“Come in, Audrey Rose Aadhira.”

I pushed the door open and was immediately struck by the colorful palette Grandmama had chosen for this room. Turquoise and fuchsia, sparkling greens and rich yellows. All edged in gold, all utterly decadent yet still inviting. From the finely woven rug to the shimmering wallpaper and tapestries, it was like stepping into a vivid dream.

A silver tea set released a pleasantly spicy aroma into the air. It was also beautiful—intricate swirls resembling vines and coriander leaves decorated the entire set of the teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl. Something she’d brought from India, no doubt. She watched me in that appraising way that said she’d missed nothing. Warmth entered her features.

“It’s yours, if you want it.” She motioned to the tea set. “I didn’t get a gift for your wedding. Though I also didn’t receive an invitation.”

She puckered her mouth as if she’d sucked on a lemon, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I nearly dropped my cane in my haste to throw my arms around her, breathing in her comforting scent. This time, without an audience, she embraced me affectionately. It felt good to hold her; too many years had passed. I knew it was hard for her—between her dislike of my father and the loss of my mother, she never stayed in England for long. Grandfather had passed on a few years before my mother had, and I could only imagine how deep her own pain went. I nestled beside her on her settee, which was covered in a rather gorgeous peacock fabric.

“Your invitation was sent, Grandmama. I cannot help that you’re harder than a ghost to track down.” My brief levity popped like a deflated balloon when I pictured Miss Whitehall marching in with her letter. “Plus, the wedding…” I swallowed a lump that suddenly formed. “You know it was…”

My grandmother drew back, and her gaze softened. “You love him very much.”

“Yes.” I fiddled with my gloves, unable to meet her eyes for fear I’d start bawling again. “I love him in ways that sometimes frighten me.”

She pulled me into the circle of her arms, stroking my hair as she used to do when I was a child. I didn’t recall them starting, but tears now streamed silently down my face. Grandmama pretended not to notice as she cooed to me.

“There, there, child. Much as I dislike admitting it, you were named for two fierce women. Your grandmother Rose and me.” She held me tighter as the sobs grew worse. “Your mother loved the name Audrey, you know.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and while I’d heard this story many times before, I found myself straining to listen again, as if it were the first time. “‘Noble strength.’ Malina wished for you to be strong of will and mind. I think she would be pleased, seeing you pursue your passions. She wanted you to be kind like your grandma Rose. As outspoken as your favorite grandmother, me. And unafraid to be yourself. Like her. Do you remember what she used to say, about roses?”

I swiped the last of my tears and nodded. “They have petals and thorns.”

“Do not be afraid now, child.” Grandmama’s confident voice was a balm to my broken heart. “You hail from a long line of women with bones made of steel. Your mother would tell you to be brave when you feel anything but. She would want to see you happy.”

“I miss her,” I whispered, realizing I hadn’t said it aloud in so long. “Every day. I worry if she’d be pleased with the life I’ve chosen. It’s not conventional—”

“Bah! Convention.” Grandmama batted the word away. “Do not trouble yourself with something as boring as convention. I know my daughter. She was proud of you and Nathaniel. You were the brightest stars in her universe. She loved your father without question, but you children were the twinkle in her soul.”

We were quiet for a while, each of us probably lost in our own memories of her. My last ones haunted me. My mother had stayed by my side while I’d burned with fever, several years ago. She’d refused to give the task to someone else, insisting on tending to me personally.

Thanks to her tireless nursing, I’d recovered from scarlet fever. She hadn’t. Her already weakened heart couldn’t fight the infection. She’d battled long enough to see me well before she passed away in my arms. Even surrounded by my father and brother, I’d never felt so alone as I did that day. Her death was my main motivating factor for pursuing science and medicine.

Sometimes, in my most private moments, I’d wonder who I might be if she’d lived.

Grandmama finally exhaled, and I tensed for what I knew had been the true reason for this visit.

“I’ve made certain… arrangements… to my will,” she said. My focus shot to hers. This was not at all what I thought she was about to say. She gave me a sly smile. “It was to be shared between you and your brother evenly, but now with him gone…” She inhaled. Her sharp gaze cut into me like a knife—we’d kept details of Nathaniel’s death from her, and her expression let me know she was more than aware of it, but she’d allow me to keep my secrets. For now. “You will need to guard yourself against anyone who whispers pretty words in your ears.”

“What on earth do you mean?” I couldn’t even consider carrying on a flirtation with anyone. It was unthinkable. “Who will be wooing me so soon?”

Grandmama snorted. “Hopefully not soon. I don’t have any plans on departing the world just yet. But when I do, many moons from now, you will become an heiress. All of this”—she motioned around the room, though I knew she was also speaking of the house—“will be yours. As will the properties in Paris, London, India, and Venice.”

My heart rate slowed. “Grandmama… I cannot… that is very generous of you, but—”

“But what? Will you have me stuff my pockets on my deathbed and carry my money into the next life?” She sniffed as if injured. “The correct response is ‘thank you.’”

I shook my shock away and clutched her hands in mine. “Thank you, Grandmama. Truly.”

By remaining unmarried, I’d inherit my grandmother’s property in full. I might not marry the love of my existence, but I would be happily wed to my profession and live comfortably, dependent upon no one. I got choked up again for an entirely new reason.

“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.”