“I thought the gift of my presence was your one true wish,” I said blandly.
He made a face. “Imagine, coming home from a long day’s work, tossing your blood-splattered apron off, grabbing a warm mug of tea. Then Sir Isaac hops into your lap, circles, once, twice, possibly thrice, before curling into a ball of warmth and fluff.” He scratched the cat’s head, drawing a purr so loud it might alarm the neighbors. “Tell me having a cat’s affection and a good book doesn’t sound like an ideal evening.”
“Is that really all you’d like me to picture? If that’s an ideal evening, then how, exactly, do you fit in?”
“You’d be scantily clad in my lap; Sir Isaac would be in yours.” Thomas held fast to the cat as he ducked the snowball I tossed at him. “What? It’s my fantasy of our future!”
I wiped the snow from my gloves, giving in. “Fine. Sir Isaac stays. I suppose he’s a Cresswell-Wadsworth now.”
Levity vanished from Thomas’s expression. “Are you thinking of taking my name—in part? I didn’t think—is that what you want?”
I picked at imaginary fuzz on my gloves, stalling. “No, I don’t believe I will.” I flicked my attention to his, noting the slight flash of disappointment before he wiped it away. I smiled. “At least not in part.”
He looked up quickly; hope slipped in between the cracks of his emotional armor. His reaction made me all the more certain of my decision. “Does that mean…?”
I bit my lower lip, nodding. “I’ve thought about it a great deal. If the choice was never offered, I might feel differently. But, I—I’m not sure how to describe it. I want to share a name with you. Thomas doesn’t quite suit me, although you’d make a lovely Audrey Rose.”
His laugh was full and rich. The cat twitched its tail and hopped to the ground, annoyed it was no longer the center of Thomas’s world. Once my love collected himself, he stepped near, holding my hands in his. “I would take your name, if you wanted to keep it.”
He meant it, too. I pulled him to me and kissed him lightly. “Which is precisely the reason I’m happy to become a Cresswell. Now, let’s go. We’ve got a birthday party to attend and a rather fun announcement to make.” I looked at the cat. “You, too, Sir Isaac. Let’s be on our way. I have to put my gown on and I’m sure I can rustle up a rather dapper ribbon for you.”
Lord help me, but the cat seemed to perk up at the thought. It was a Cresswell through and through.
THIRTEEN
CHAOS UNLEASHED
GRANDMAMA’S DINING ROOM
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
23 JANUARY 1889
I threaded my arm through Thomas’s, leading him into the dining room, where our families waited, milling about. My betrothed abruptly halted, nearly making me lose my balance as he took in each of the dessert tables. Sir Isaac Mewton hissed from his shoulder, displeased with either his frosty-blue silk bow or Thomas’s sudden halt. He hopped to the ground and skirted around us, heading straight for the bowl of cream I’d asked the footman to leave for him.
“You beautiful, brilliant, wonderful woman,” Thomas whispered, eyes going wide as he stuck his finger in the closest cake and tasted the frosting. I shook my head. He had the manners of an alley cat and the disposition of a child. “My God. Is that espresso frosting? I’ve never—” He inspected me in that Cresswell way of his. “Your creation?”
“It was just an idea—I know how much you favor coffee, and it goes so well with chocolate…”
Thomas kissed me, hard and deep, only stopping when someone cleared their throat across the room. We broke apart, both of us flushed, and waved shyly at our family members. Aunt Amelia, the likely culprit for the admonishment, tsked.
“Thank you for joining us for Thomas’s birthday celebration,” I said, once we’d all taken our seats around the large mahogany table. “Please raise your glasses in a toast. Mr. Cresswell is now eighteen. If only he were a bit wiser to match his old age.”
“You may be waiting on that day for all eternity, Audrey Rose.” Daciana elbowed her brother, smiling tenderly. Chuckles went around the table.
We feasted on the roasted boar and herbed potatoes, forgetting about proper dining protocol on who needed to speak to whom, and simply enjoyed being together. After the desserts began arriving in earnest, Thomas caught my attention and raised his brow. It was time.
Suddenly, glancing into the faces of our loved ones, my nerves came back with a vengeance. I wasn’t sure why my mouth was now bone-dry, or why my heart beat three times too fast. These people loved us; they wouldn’t pass judgment. And yet I couldn’t stop the flutter of my pulse. The last of the sweets were making their way to us, and I had no choice but to stand up and announce our betrothal. It was all so real, I—
Thomas grabbed my hand under the table, weaving our fingers together in the same way our lives would soon become entwined.
He squeezed reassuringly, then let go and stood, raising his glass of wine. “To Audrey Rose, for her time and careful planning of this evening. I’m quite possibly the luckiest person who ever lived. And not simply because she had every dessert known to humanity baked for my pleasure.” Everyone raised their own glasses, clinking them merrily. Thomas cleared his throat, his nerves finally showing. “It brings me the greatest honor to announce our engagement. Through some means of magic and mystery, she has accepted my proposal.”
The silence I feared never happened. At once, our families clapped and congratulated us.
“Oh, joyous day!” Mrs. Harvey practically fell backward in her excitement. She rushed around the table, tottering a bit, and hugged me close. “Congratulations, my dear! I knew you and my Thomas were a smart pair! The way he looks at you—like he’s seeing under all those layers and—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harvey!” I clutched Thomas’s chaperone back fiercely, meeting my father’s glistening eyes across the table. He smiled, warm and proud. He clearly missed where Mrs. Harvey’s train of thought was heading. Thank goodness for small favors. Once Thomas managed to wrangle Mrs. Harvey back into her seat, I stood at his side. I motioned for the champagne to be brought out, waiting as everyone took their rose petal–infused flutes.
“We have one more tiny announcement,” I said, drawing in a deep breath. Thomas clasped his free hand in mine again, giving another encouraging squeeze. There was no time like the present to unleash some chaos. “We wish to marry within the next fortnight.”
There was a new scientific theory that claimed sound ceases right before an explosion occurs. I hadn’t put much thought into it before, but I imagined it was similar to how silent the dining room became after I’d made that last statement. Weddings normally took a length of time to prepare for—mostly due to all the legal matters that needed sorting. Two weeks was unheard of. Once the shock of our upcoming nuptials passed, everyone began clamoring at the same time.
“A fortnight?” Aunt Amelia cried. “Impossible!”
“The flowers!” Liza added, appalled. “The menu…”
“The dress,” Daciana said, sipping from her champagne flute with gusto. “It’s madness, hosting a wedding that quickly. Unless…” Her sharp gaze landed on my belly.
I scowled, earning a sheepish look of apology. I was not with child. Thomas and I hadn’t—my heart raced when I recalled our scandalous bath last night. Though he’d explored much more of my body than he’d ever done before, we had not crossed that line.
Thomas stood beside me, shaking his head. “Given the nature of our work, we may need to travel alone. Quite soon. It would be easiest for us to do so if we were married.”
“Of course!” Aunt Amelia tossed her hands in the air. “Your careers. How unreasonable of us to have forgotten that Audrey Rose has chosen dark pursuits in place of tending to a proper home.” She rubbed her brow. “This party was planned so well. I thought you’d grown out of that morbid, unbecoming fascination.”
Thomas bristled, but I put a hand on his arm. I recognized my aunt’s scolding for what it was—n
erves and worry. “I know it’s asking a lot of everyone, Aunt,” I said calmly. “However, if anyone can accomplish an impossible task, it’s the people present in this room.” I looked from my aunt to Liza, Mrs. Harvey, Daciana, and Ileana. Warmth filled the void of sadness I’d felt, missing my mother. “My mother would be extremely grateful for the love and support you’ve all shown to me.” I turned to Thomas, smiling shyly. “To us.”
“Since it’s such a short timeframe to accomplish a wedding,” Thomas added, “we’d like for it to remain very simple. Our only wish is to be surrounded by those we love. And cake. Most specifically, that chocolate coffee concoction that has stolen my heart and my senses entirely.” I nudged him. “Almost entirely. A bit of macerated cherries or raspberries would also be welcome. Do feel free to bring us samples. Often.”
Liza appeared as if we’d requested to dance across a crescent moon during Samhain splattered in sheep’s blood. “Simple?” she sputtered, glancing around for assistance. “What, shall we sew the table linens together for your dress?” Her pitch was rising to a worrisome level. Father and Uncle both lifted their heads, staring up at the ceiling in a manner I was all too familiar with. “I cannot work under such conditions and limitations! It is unreasonable to ask that of us.”
I opened my mouth, stunned. “Liza… we don’t want to be any trouble. It’s—”
“—our God-given duty as your family to make this as spectacular as possible. How dare you believe, for one instant, we would ever feel troubled over making your day beautiful!”
With that, she turned to her sisters in arms, plotting our wedding. Thomas leaned in, a smile in his voice. “Remind me to never cross your cousin. She’s more fearsome than my father.”
Everyone spoke in rushed spurts, nodding one moment, shaking their heads the next. It was fascinating to watch. They truly were like an army, assembling a plan of attack as swiftly as if they’d practiced this formation for years, unbeknownst to me or Thomas.
“She can alter the dress she’s wearing,” Ileana offered, nodding at the blush ensemble I wore. “It’s close to a wedding gown already. The beadwork is exceptional.”
I glanced down at the princess gown I’d had made at the highly acclaimed Dogwood Lane Boutique. It would be quite lovely. Liza and Daciana both drew back, holding their hands against their hearts. “No! Absolutely not!” they said in unison. Then Daciana elaborated, “Her gown ought to be new—made specially for this most treasured day. It’ll be white, like the queen’s was, with layers of flowing gauze and crystals sewn into the bodice.”
Arguments went back and forth so quickly, I felt dizzy. I found an empty seat next to my father and uncle. “Thank you, Father. I know you’re not entirely comfortable—”
“I’ve found I am most content when my daughter is happy.” He hugged me. “Plus, your Thomas is quite the brave young man. Look how he’s challenging your cousin on the colors of the flowers.” My father shook his head, smiling. “He’s unique. Unique enough to keep you looking this happy for the rest of your lives, I’m sure.”
Uncle grunted. “I knew pairing the two of you together would be trouble.”
“Well, I’m pleased you played such an important role.” I kissed him on the cheek, surprising us both. Uncle flushed bright red. “Meeting that annoying student in your laboratory last autumn turned out to be one of the best chance encounters of my life.”
Uncle muttered something and quickly exited the room.
After he’d gone, my father laughed, shaking his head. “My dear girl. If you believe it was a chance encounter, you have much to learn. Especially about your uncle.”
Sounds of friendly chatter and clinking forks against porcelain plates faded into the background while I mentally turned his words over. “You must be mistaken. The night I met Thomas, he’d come uninvited.”
Father’s eyes danced with mirth. “Sweet daughter of mine. Jonathan’s more apt at reading people than Thomas is. He knew long before that boy ever walked into that laboratory that the two of you had the potential to change the world together. Know this—he took Thomas on as an apprentice because he is and always has been the Wadsworth who believed love could bridge the barrier between life and death. If you think me a romantic old fool, my brother is twice as much on both counts.”
Twelve days came and went; time slipped through our grasp like a wily career murderer. The women in our families—along with my father, who, surprisingly enough, rather enjoyed all the preparations and shopping—worked from sunrise until sunset, planning and ordering and amending their lists. Thomas and I tried assisting but were shooed away. Murders didn’t slow in the city, though no more seemed to be committed by the Ripper’s hand. It ought to have proven joyful, but the churning unease in my center knew otherwise.
If Jack the Ripper was no longer in New York, he was stalking another city. I did not delude myself into believing he’d simply given up killing. If anything, he’d been experimenting with new variations on his methods. Unusual, and troubling for a killer. He’d already been an efficient murdering machine; with more practice and altered methods, we might never stop him.
Uncle tossed his scalpel into a bucket of carbolic acid, careless of what else got splashed with the liquid. “Nothing! It’s as if he’s disappeared.”
I set my cane down and picked up the bucket, fishing the medical tool out. Uncle’s anger had been simmering for days and was coming to a full, maddening boil. I’d never seen him take his frustration out on his blades before.
“I—” I paused to gather my courage. “I may know of a place we might learn more.”
Uncle’s attention shifted to me. “How?”
I glanced at Thomas, suddenly unsure I wanted to share this fact with Uncle. My betrothed nodded, giving me his support, but wouldn’t offer an opinion on the matter. This was my secret to reveal and mine alone. It was strange, feeling as if I was about to betray my brother. I couldn’t reconcile my innate urge to protect the person who hadn’t protected others.
“Well?” Uncle asked, losing his already fraying patience.
I steeled myself against any more fits of his rage. “Nathaniel’s journals. They—they contain quite a lot of information. Regarding the murders.”
I didn’t need to elaborate on which murders.
Uncle’s eyes grew distant, his posture straightening. “Your brother knew nothing worthwhile regarding those murders.”
“I’m quite certain he—”
“He was yet another unfortunate victim, though I know many would find that hard to believe.”
I pressed my lips together, refusing to argue when he was clearly in denial. I knew the feeling all too well and wouldn’t steal his stubborn peace from him, misplaced though it might be.
Whether Uncle wanted to confront his own truth or not, the fact remained: Nathaniel knew more about Jack the Ripper than any of us.
FOURTEEN
COURTING A CRESSWELL
AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
5 FEBRUARY 1889
“Have you decided how you’re wearing your hair tomorrow?” Daciana asked, poking her own updo in the looking glass. “If you style it like this, you can show off that striking neckline of yours.”
“Or you might keep it loose and not give a care about what others think,” Ileana added, her Romanian accent as lovely as ever. She gave Daciana a pointed look as she combed through her own locks. “Your veil will cover it up anyway.”
“Yes, but after the ceremony she’ll be strutting around without all that fabric nonsense.” Daciana added a flower to her hair. “Perhaps our friend here might prefer to have her hair up and out of the way for post-wedding activities.”
She waggled her brows suggestively and, without even glancing over my shoulder, I was quite certain Aunt Amelia was about to fall over, crossing herself furiously on the way down.
“Miss Cresswell!” My aunt snatched a fan off the dresser, frantically waving it before her r
eddening face. A vein in her forehead throbbed in the most troublesome manner. “Language, please.”
“Apologies, Lady Clarence. Miss Cresswell is fond of the truth.” Ileana heaved a sigh, almost coaxing a smile to my lips despite my best efforts. She alone knew what it was like to court a Cresswell and live to tell the indecent tale of it.
“They’ll be married soon enough,” Daciana said. “I imagine they’ll do more than hold hands in bed. The way they stare at each other when they think no one is looking could impregnate her on the spot. Now, that’s downright indecent, especially over the soup course.”
The entire room seemed to suck in a breath at once. Daciana lifted a shoulder and went back to inspecting her own hair as if she’d not hinted at such private matters and nearly caused an embolism in my aunt. Mentioning anything close to pregnancy or the science behind how such a thing happens was simply not done in polite company.
Ileana rolled her eyes skyward, as if silently communicating that teaching subtlety to a Cresswell was a lost cause.
“Here. This will be perfect.” Liza had opened a fashion magazine, pointing out an illustration of a complicated hairstyle to distract everyone. “See how loose waves fall naturally over her shoulder, yet the top half is braided into a coronet? It’s so decorative and fun. I’m certain we can weave orange blossoms in your braids and then set jewels into it, too. You’ll look like you’re wearing a crown made of flowers and precious stones.”
I inspected the hairstyle, biting my lip. It might be deemed high fashion, but it reminded me of a rather messy sparrow’s nest. All that was missing were some twigs and dried leaves. I said a silent prayer of thanks the wedding hadn’t been scheduled for the fall, else I might’ve ended up with those very embellishments stuck into my hair. Thomas would fall off the altar from laughing so hard. Which might almost be worth it.
Realizing Liza was waiting on a response, I stumbled over the best compliment I could offer. “It’s very… interesting.”
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