She cried out. Screamed again and again.
He went to cut her other side, to give her a matching incision on the other cheek.
“You, there! Let her go!” a man yelled as he came toward them. It certainly looked as if he carried a pistol, though he wouldn’t shoot else risk hitting the girl. The Ripper had to make a quick decision; kill her now, then run and risk getting shot, or drop the girl and run and live to kill another day.
The latter won. He released the girl, and shoved her in the direction of the man who had interrupted them. Then he ran. A shot rang out behind him and he wasn’t certain if it hit him or not.
He rounded the corner of the alleyway to the backside of the opera house and found his carriage waiting. He slipped in and the wheels rolled down the street. He’d almost been caught before and there was something thrilling about it. But tonight had been too close and now he had a new problem.
Now he had two witnesses to kill.
***
The following morning, Alex made his way down for breakfast, though it was far later than his usual time. He wondered if they’d already put the food away for the morning. After he’d left Mia in her bed, he’d been in such a state he’d spend the better part of two hours drinking himself into a stupor in his office. Evidently his brother wasn’t the only one capable of making that foolish mistake.
And this morning Alex was paying for it. His head hurt like the devil, and the light streaming in through the open windows pierced daggers through his eyes. He scowled as he stepped into the breakfast room and was surprised to find it full of people. Perhaps he wasn’t as late as he’d first thought.
Edward sat at the table, plate full of food.
“Do they not serve breakfast at your townhome?” Alex asked.
Rachel sat beside Edward and Mia directly across from them. At the sight of her he wanted to say something that would make the turn of events between them less painful, but there was nothing left to say. He couldn’t change anything and last night he’d said what needed to be said. And hurting her now was better than a lifetime of pain, which she would most certainly have if she were his mistress.
“Oh, we have wonderful breakfast at my home. I merely wanted to see your smiling face this morning,” Edward said.
Alex grunted at him as he went directly to the sideboard to fix himself a plate. His stomach rolled in protest and he settled for some warm bread and candied figs. He rang the servant bell and asked for coffee before taking his seat.
“And a good morning to you, too,” Edward said, his tone entirely too cheerful and far too loud.
“Go to the devil,” Alex growled.
“I will not. I’m in far too good of a mood for that. Even you cannot sour this day for me.” Edward leaned onto the table and attempted to meet Alex’s gaze. “What’s the matter, old man, can’t hold your liquor anymore?” he teased.
Alex ignored him and took a bite of bread. It was tasteless and hard, crumbling in his mouth like tiny rocks.
“Tell him your good news,” Mia said. She tapped on the table in front of Rachel. She had yet to turn in Alex’s direction.
“Rachel has agreed to marry me,” Edward said.
Despite his ruthless headache, Alex found he was still capable of a smile. “You finally convinced her.” Alex leveled a gaze at Rachel. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
“Yes, I do,” Rachel said quickly. “It’s going to take a lot of work to civilize him, but I believe I’m up for the task.”
“Congratulations, then,” Alex said.
Hodges came in carrying a tray. He set it down next to Alex on the table. “Your Grace, this message just arrived for you. The courier said it was most urgent.”
Alex set his coffee down and picked up the note. It was from Juliet.
Your Grace,
I wish to promptly end our betrothal. Thank you for your kindness, please know that I will take full responsibility for breaking the engagement.
Yours,
Juliet
Relief washed over him as if someone had removed a far-too-heavy coat from his shoulders. But then confusion came close on its heels. Alex released a string of curses.
“What is it?” Edward asked. “Something with Drew?”
“No, nothing to do with Drew.” He came to his feet. “It would seem that I am no longer engaged.” With that, he left the room. As he stepped into the hall, he found Simon entering the front door. Perhaps he’d spoken too soon about Drew. “What now?” he asked.
“I need a moment, Alex,” Simon said.
Alex nodded and walked into his study. Simon followed him. “I’m in a hurry so make this quick.”
“I wasn’t certain if you’d heard yet or not, but I wanted to come straightaway and tell you,” Simon said.
It was common knowledge that the wealthy did not tend to do well once incarcerated, but he had suspected his brother to be made of sterner stuff. “Is it Drew?”
“No, in fact, in light of last night’s activities, I do believe he’ll be released soon.”
“What activities?” Alex asked.
“There was another attack,” Simon said.
“So Drew is innocent, as he proclaimed himself to be,” Alex said. Relief washed over him just as guilt gnawed at his gut for even the slightest doubt in his brother. “Where was the attack?”
“In the alleyway outside of the opera house.” Simon took a step toward him. “Alex, it was on Juliet Beckinsale.”
The news made his head reel, which brought another wave of nausea. He glanced at the letter still clutched in his hand. “She’s dead?” Then who had sent the message?
“No, not dead. One of the inspectors came across her being attacked and called out and went after the man. He cut her, though, pretty badly, on the face. But she is alive and doing quite well. Though obviously in a bit of shock.”
“Oh, no,” Alex said. He fell into one of his chairs. “How did this happen?” He shook his head. “I received a message from her that she wasn’t feeling well and had left the opera before I’d had a chance to walk her to her carriage.” Then he remembered what Mia had experienced. “The son of bitch was there last night. At the opera. Mia sensed him directly behind her, but he disappeared into the crowd. Clearly he was watching her. Damn it, how did this happen?”
Simon just shook his head. “We have no idea. It does appear Juliet was specifically targeted. Her maid was locked in a closet in the opera house and was unable to escape until someone heard her screaming. And Juliet herself was seen walking away from the carriages around the corner of the opera house,” Simon said. “With a gentleman.”
“Did she tell you who he was? Did she see him?” Alex asked.
“She says she didn’t see his face, that it was too dark in the alleyway,” Simon shook his head, “but I don’t believe her. I think she knows more than she’s letting on. I’ll give her some time to get over the shock of the attack and then question her again.”
Alex finished the conversation with Simon and then was left alone in his study. He had to go to Juliet. Find out why she’d called off their engagement. Maybe she thought that since she’d been attacked he would somehow think her impure, compromised. But he was a man of his word, and though he knew that the circumstances would allow him a clean escape from the betrothal, he wanted to make certain she knew no matter what he would still marry her, make good on his promise.
But first he had to see to Mia’s safety. He went back into the dining room and found his guests seated just as they’d been when he’d left.
“What happened?” Mia asked, coming to her feet.
“Juliet has been attacked. I’ll know more later,” he said. “Edward, if I could have a word.”
Edward followed him out into the corridor. “Juliet was attacked?”
“Yes, by the Ripper. But she got away so she’s alive.” He shook his head. “I need for you to stay here while I go out. Keep Mia safe. Don’t allow her out of your sight.”<
br />
Edward nodded.
“Promise me,” Alex said. He tried not to notice the frantic tone of his voice.
Edward grabbed his arm and squeezed. “I will not allow anything to happen to her. She’ll be safe.”
Alex nodded and turned on his heel and left.
Chapter Thirty
Drew sat in what he fondly called “the hole” and waited. It was all he could do. Sit, wait, listen to the other inmates fight or wail or sling curses at one another. It was a wretched existence.
The metal gates down from his cell opened and closed and he heard voices. It was dark in his pit, torches spat and sparked on the walls outside his bars. Footsteps sounded and then his own gate rattled.
“Drew.”
It was Simon. Drew was thankful for the visit. So far the man came once a day, to check in with him and give him reports from the goings-on in London. Drew knew it was to keep things light and he appreciated it, but in the whole scheme of things it wouldn’t matter. Eventually he’d stop visiting. Everyone would and then he would rot in here alone with the rest of London’s criminals.
“Simon,” Drew said. “Smells as if it might rain.”
“Indeed, dark clouds have been rolling in and collecting all day.” There was a pause and Simon got close to the bars. “I need to speak with you. It is of great importance.”
Drew stepped forward. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug.
Simon looked over his shoulder, then gripped two of the bars. “I know you didn’t do this. I know you’re not the killer we seek. And we’ve had a situation that will probably prove that to everyone else very soon.”
“What happened?” Drew asked.
“Another attack, this time she survived. That is what will keep you in here a little longer. There are those that believe this wasn’t the same man. But I know it was.”
Drew nodded. “So I might get out. Someday.”
“You will get out. And when you do, I need your help.” Simon paused and again looked behind him. “I know you don’t owe me anything, I’m the one who brought you here. But I think you’re in a unique position to assist in this investigation.”
“What are you asking, Simon?”
“How would you like to do some work for me? Secret work,” Simon said. “For whatever reason, the Ripper used you to take the fall for his crimes.”
“You believe he framed me?” Drew asked.
Simon nodded. “He likes to toy with people. He likes to toy with the police. What better way to send us off after the wrong man. But I believe because he picked you, you were obviously in the same places he was. Perhaps you even know him. You could be quite useful in this investigation.”
“So you essentially want me to become a spy for you. For the Yard,” Drew said.
“I do. I know this is a lot to consider so I shall give you time. I merely wanted to speak with you first, before you’re released.”
“I don’t need any time,” Drew said.
“I should hope you would reconsider—”
“I’ll do it,” Drew said, interrupting Simon.
“Oh . . . excellent.” Simon tapped a finger on the bars. “In the meantime I shall work on getting you released.
“You do that. The food here is terrible.”
***
Alex stood in the entryway to the Beckinsales’ London townhome. The butler had reluctantly taken his calling card when Alex had refused to leave despite being told repeatedly that they were not receiving visitors today.
The butler reappeared with the lady of the house bustling behind him. “Your Grace, I believe you were told that we are not receiving visitors.” She wrung her hands as she spoke, but tried her best to give him a tight smile. “I know you shall understand under the circumstances.”
“What I understand is that my fiancée was attacked last night and then I received a letter from her this morning. I would like to speak with her. Now, if you don’t mind,” Alex said. His patience was wearing quite thin.
“What did that letter say, Your Grace?” Juliet’s mother nearly bristled and it appeared she’d grown taller. She tilted her head to meet his gaze, unwaveringly. “I don’t believe she wishes to see you. I’m fairly certain she made that perfectly clear. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but my daughter has made her wishes known.”
It was on his tongue to brush past the woman and search for Juliet himself, but he tempered his inclination. He took a steadying breath. “I can understand your need to protect your daughter, but I am not here to mock or ridicule her, I merely would like to have a conversation with her. I am not so easily turned away from a commitment; I will not accept her letter without first speaking to her. I do believe this was a union you and my mother agreed upon. Certainly you are not so eager to rid yourself of a Carrington man when you would have married Juliet to any one of us.”
Her mother opened her mouth to argue, but instead it was Juliet’s soft voice that came out. “That will be all, Mother, thank you. I shall speak with His Grace in the front parlor.” She walked past him and into the double doors to his left.
He followed behind her. He would not walk away from this engagement without knowing precisely why. This had been an agreement between their two families, something his father had wanted long before he died. Plus he was concerned for Juliet’s welfare. He might not love the girl, but he was not completely heartless.
She entered the room quietly and walked straight to a chair and lowered herself into it. He waited until she was seated before he took a chair opposite hers. A large bandage covered nearly the entire right side of her face; still she met his gaze with courage.
“I thought my note would have explained everything quite sufficiently,” she said quietly. “I should like to bow out of our agreement.”
“Your words were, in fact, quite clear. But why, might I ask?” Alex inquired.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She motioned to her face. “I am no longer the girl you proposed to,” she said bitterly. “I am no longer that girl,” she repeated softly.
“Certainly you don’t believe me to be such a cruel man that I would wish to be released from our engagement simply because you were attacked. I know your virtue remains intact. I spoke to the lead investigator. And I offered the constable who rescued you a reward, though he declined to take it,” Alex said.
“You’re very kind, Alex. But this . . .” She reached up and removed her bandage, revealing an angry slash pulled together with too many stitches to count. “This is not going away,” she flinched with her words. She was obviously in a great deal of pain. It would be an ugly scar; there was no denying that. It would permanently alter her face.
“It must have been a terrifying ordeal.” He thought about that first night when Mia had entered his house to tell him about the attack she’d witnessed, how full of fear she’d been. And now Juliet. “I’m glad you’re safe. And I care not a whit about that scar,” he said, pointing. “I proposed to you because I believe we are a good match. I still believe that.” Though part of him wondered why he was fighting for her when more than anything he wished to be with Mia. Still he’d made a promise to this woman and what kind of man would he be if he begged off simply because her appearance had changed?
“You proposed to me because our families had an agreement. Even before I was born, I believe, they’d decided a Carrington/Beckinsale match would be just the thing,” she said.
He inclined his head. “Yes, that is true, as well, but I certainly think our parents were wise in their decision.”
“I suppose we are a good match. I was raised specifically to become some man’s wife. A man like you, or your brother, titled and wealthy.”
“But my brother never bothered to court you,” Alex said.
“No, he did not. His interests lay with another woman,” she said.
“A married woman, and we both know how that turned out for him.”
“So you are the obedient brother. The new Duke who followed thro
ugh on his father’s plans.” She put the bandage back in place. “I know precisely how to run a household such as yours. I know how to sit quietly next to a man while he discusses important matters such as finances or politics. I know how to appear to have an opinion and when that’s appropriate. I was raised to be the perfect wife.”
“Yes,” Alex agreed. “And you were to be my perfect duchess.”
She released a bitter laugh. “You know I used to think the worst thing that could happen to me was to be a twenty-one-year-old spinster. Now I know differently, I see the world differently.”
She was angry, probably still in shock from her attack, and it would take time for her to heal, both her face and her sense of security.
“You could be that girl again, Juliet, the injuries will heal,” he said.
“I will never be that girl again,” she said quietly.
There was something about her today that seemed true, as if in this moment he was finally seeing the authentic Juliet. “What is it that you want, Juliet?” Alex asked.
“I don’t want to marry you.” She met his gaze and her own was steady, unwavering. “The truth is I never wanted to marry you.” She paused a moment as if gauging his reaction, then continued. “You’re a fine man, Alex. Kind and handsome and any woman would be proud to be your wife.” She gave a weak smile. “But despite my upbringing, I don’t want to be the perfect wife. I don’t want to simply sit somewhere and wait until I’m supposed to talk or smile or eat. And I want love. I want a man that I love and one who loves me in return.” The words came out in a flood as if she’d waited a lifetime to say them. “I doubt that will happen now, but I at least want the opportunity. Or to not have to enter into a marriage that will no doubt make both of us miserable.”
“I should think we could be very happy,” Alex said, then added, “as happy as any other marriage in London, which perhaps isn’t saying much.”
“But don’t you want more?” Her eyes searched his face, her expression earnest. “What of that woman from the opera, the one staying with you? I saw the way you looked at her, the concern in your features. You care for her.”
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