Capturing the Devil

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Daciana and Ileana snorted, but a swift glare from my cousin had each of them holding their hands against their mouths, doing a terrible job stifling their giggles. I flashed them my most pleading look; all of the plucking and primping was beginning to set my teeth on edge.

  “If you’ll excuse us.” Daciana gracefully hopped to her feet. “I’m going to check on my brother, then retire for the evening.” She took both of my hands in hers and kissed my cheeks. “Good night, Audrey Rose. Sleep well. Tomorrow we shall officially become sisters! I cannot express how happy I am to have you as part of my family. I’m not sure if Thomas or I am more thrilled!”

  Ileana sighed at Daciana’s “Cresswell” theatrics and hugged me good night. “We’ll see you in the morning. Try to sleep soundly. Your wedding will be unforgettable, I promise.”

  I took a steadying breath. “You think so?”

  She nodded. “You’re simply walking to Thomas in a beautiful gown, sharing vows, eating some cake, then beginning a new chapter of your lives. Together. Everything will be wonderful, you’ll see.”

  “Thank you.” I clutched her close.

  Once they’d left, Liza tapped the image in the magazine again. “Well?”

  I swallowed hard, hoping my expression didn’t betray my growing horror. “Perhaps keeping the hair simple might be best. The dress is already so decorative—with all that beading and embroidery—and the diamond tiara is another bold statement…” I trailed off, noticing how both my aunt and cousin seemed to be mentally crossing themselves at my lack of vision. “You’re right. Let’s set the hair and we’ll see how the waves look in the morning before we decide.”

  With that crisis settled, my cousin ushered me onto the velvet bench in front of the vanity and got to work twisting and pinning small sections of my hair into place. I tried not to wince as she inadvertently yanked some strands out with her overzealous twists.

  “You mustn’t squint so much,” Aunt Amelia scolded, leaning over and pinching color into my cheeks until I was certain each of my blood vessels had popped and I might, in fact, internally bleed to death before sunrise. “You’ll cause wrinkles and will look like an overcooked goose before you’re twenty. Do you wish to have a husband who no longer desires you so soon?”

  I inhaled and allowed myself the mental count of three before responding.

  “Because he’ll desire a Christmas goose instead?” I raised my brows. “They do say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  Liza coughed a laugh away, abruptly returning to my trunk to rummage through my things. I took another deep breath and counted until I felt the next retort dissolve on my tongue. I highly doubted anyone was having such a discussion with Thomas the evening before our wedding. Men prided themselves on aging. They might lose their hair and expand their bellies and still be deemed a wondrous catch, marrying twenty years their junior. Yet heaven forbid a young lady grow into old age and be proud of the lines on her face; the very lines that told a story of a life well lived. The nerve of us to live happily and without apology. I scowled at my reflection.

  “Sit up straight.” Aunt Amelia gently swatted my backside with the fan. “Your posture is all wrong. If you slump tomorrow, your tiara will tumble right off that smart head of yours. You want to appear pleasing to your bridegroom, don’t you? I cannot—”

  “What Mother is attempting to say is she loves you and is only fussing because she’s worried something will go wrong and you won’t have a marvelous day. Isn’t that right, Mother?” Without waiting for a response, Liza handed me a box with a big red ribbon. I held it up, curious. Judging by its weight, it felt like some sort of garment. “It’s a little something I saw in the fashion district. It’s for your wedding night, but you might want to try it on to make sure it suits you before then.” I went to untie the ribbon but she placed her hand on mine, stopping me. “Open it later.”

  Pretending as if she didn’t hear that last instruction, Aunt Amelia went about tying my hair up in small sections and securing it with pins with swift efficiency, though I could have sworn I saw the slightest bit of wetness on her lashes before she blinked it away. I reached up as she placed the last pin and clutched her hand in mine.

  “Thank you, Aunt,” I said, meaning it. “Tomorrow will be perfect.”

  FIFTEEN

  YOURS TO GIVE

  AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS

  FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

  5 FEBRUARY 1889

  Once Aunt Amelia and Liza retired to their chambers, I sat in front of the vanity, adjusting the hundreds of pins they’d stuck in my hair for the sake of fashion, wondering if the end result of soft, “natural” waves would be worth the discomfort of sleeping on them tonight. Without a doubt, it was not. Much of the wedding felt as if it were now a spectacle, like Mephistopheles and his crew had taken over its design and created another revel for the Moonlight Carnival.

  While I couldn’t deny the extravagant hothouse flowers and the princess dress were quite lovely, I wished to walk down the aisle as myself. I simply wanted to be with Thomas, and that didn’t require pomp and circumstance. I’d be content saying my vows without an audience present, though I knew my family and loved ones had worked hard to make the day special for us, and I wanted to share in their celebration and good cheer. With limits.

  I began taking the hairpins out, watching sections of my dark hair uncoil like ebony rope, falling against my collarbone. It was much better to enjoy my sleep and feel well rested for tomorrow rather than suffer and pretend to be cheerful in the morning.

  “Appear pleasing to my bridegroom, indeed.” I shook my head. Aunt Amelia didn’t understand Mr. Thomas Cresswell at all. I snorted at the very thought of him requiring me to behave or look a certain way in order to be pleased.

  Thomas wouldn’t mind if I showed up to the church in my laboratory apron, sawdust clinging to my hems, scalpel in hand. In fact, the rogue might prefer it. He truly loved me for me.

  There was none of that “he loved me in spite of” nonsense. Thomas saw who I was—flaws and all—and I was more than enough for him, as he was for me. We needn’t complete each other; we complemented each other. He and I were whole on our own, which made us so much stronger when combined than two symbolic halves coming together to create one. Our bond had double the strength. Nothing could tear it apart. And after tomorrow, nothing would.

  I allowed my focus to fall upon my new dressing gown, or lack thereof. The moment my family had left, I’d unwrapped the present, immediately understanding why Liza had warned me to wait. She’d gifted me with a sheer cream-colored robe embroidered with strategically placed wildflowers to hide certain parts of my anatomy. It came with a matching nightgown made entirely of sheer lace. Worn together, the garments hinted at nakedness, but worn separately they unabashedly flaunted my form.

  Instead of feeling as if I were a walking scandal, I felt confident when I tried them on. My silhouette was visible as firelight flickered behind me. I tied the ribbons at my low neckline, then ran my hands down the sides of my soft curves, staring at my reflection. In less than a day, I’d wear it to my marital bed. The clock chimed off twelve bells, promptly derailing thoughts of tomorrow’s sleeping arrangements. I went back to my task. It was getting late and I needed to attempt to sleep before dawn.

  Halfway through undoing my hair, I leaned forward, inspecting this pre-wedding version of myself in the looking glass, searching for any trace of panic or urge to flee. The only emotion I saw staring back was excitement. Pure and radiant. My cheeks were flushed, and there was an undeniable sparkle in my green eyes. I’d finally become the rose with soft petals and sharp thorns Mother always said I could be. The constant pang of nerves that plagued me at the thought of marriage was replaced with a serene calmness. An absolute void of worry or doubt.

  I was ready to become Lady Audrey Rose Cresswell.

  The name gave me power—perhaps because I’d chosen it for myself, it was no longer something I’d been born
into, or something expected of me by my husband. Thomas had made it infinitely clear that I was free to be whoever I wanted to be, and the world could simply swallow an egg if it didn’t like it. My father didn’t seem particularly keen about the idea but deferred to my future husband, who refused to force his will upon anyone but himself. There was power in choice. And I’d choose Thomas in each and every lifetime, if such things were possible.

  I smiled to myself. “You’ve truly bewitched me, Cresswell.”

  “Always nice to hear, though not entirely surprising, Wadsworth.” I startled back and dropped my last hairpin, meeting Thomas’s mischievous expression in the looking glass as he slipped into my room and quickly shut the door behind him. “Have you seen how handsome I look in this suit?”

  I held a hand to my pounding heart as I recovered from the shock of him answering a sentiment he wasn’t meant to hear.

  “Audrey Rose.” He bowed deeply, then stood, his gaze snagging on my robe. Whatever quip he’d been about to say abandoned him as I swiveled on the bench, allowing the firelight to illuminate the outline of my body. I tried not to laugh at the slight flush creeping past his collar, or the way his throat bobbed as he quickly swallowed. “I—” He exhaled slowly, as if collecting his thoughts. “You—”

  “Yes?” I prompted when nothing else seemed forthcoming. I never thought I’d see the day when Thomas Cresswell was without words, and I relished this clumsy version of him.

  “I realized I won’t be able to call you Wadsworth anymore.”

  “Oh? And you decided sneaking into my sleeping chamber at midnight to tell me was the best course of action?” I patted the space next to me on the vanity’s bench. After the slightest hesitation, he crossed the room and joined me. I watched the fire crackle in the hearth across from us. “Are you the one whose feet are getting a bit chilly now?”

  A smug look replaced whatever nerves he’d shown.

  “Apologies for any disappointment, my love, but my toes are exceptionally warm this evening.” Thomas lifted his legs up, wiggling his shiny shoes around. He pulled back his trousers, exposing a thick pair of knitted socks. “It’s simply going to be an adjustment, calling you Cresswell. I’m going to believe I’m talking to myself, not that I’m a bad conversationalist. I rather enjoy having heated debates with myself most days.”

  He paused, fidgeting. I realized he was avoiding looking in my direction for too long. Of all the times he’d brashly flirted with me, I couldn’t believe how shy he was when confronted with a nightgown. He wasn’t nearly as flustered during our bath. Maybe it was the bed, looming silently beside us, that made him nervous.

  “I tried calling Sir Isaac ‘Wadsworth’ earlier.” He flashed a quick smile. “He wasn’t very agreeable to it, I’m afraid.”

  I huffed a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  Thomas took my hand and gently turned it over, tracing the lines of my palm, his expression suddenly serious. His jaw tightened. “There’s still time, you know—if you’ve changed your mind. About… all this. I know this has all gone much faster than you’d have liked. Most engagements are at least six months; then there’s the matter of age. If you’d prefer to wait…”

  I shifted so I could take his face in my hands, ensuring his gaze was locked onto mine. I ran my thumb against his jaw, marveling at how good it felt to simply touch him.

  “I’ve never been more sure or ready for anything in my whole life, Thomas Cresswell.” He seemed ready to argue, so I lightly kissed him. “In fact, the morning can’t come soon enough. We’ve never done anything by anyone’s rules but our own. Why start worrying now?”

  He looked skeptical. “Are you certain?”

  “Of us? Most definitely so.”

  “How do you know you’re ready?”

  “Well, there are lots of reasons,” I said carefully.

  “Tell me the most scandalous one.” His request was meant to be lighthearted, but the edge of worry was there. Thomas hadn’t relinquished his fears of inadequacy.

  I leaned into him, breathing in the scent of coffee and a hint of rich spirits. I wondered if my father had offered him whiskey, or if he’d been anxious enough to pour some himself.

  “I want to fall asleep against your chest and wake up in your arms. I long to be free to hug or kiss you whenever I choose, for as long as I choose. I want to know the sound of your breath as you slip into sleep. I want to—” I sat back, any further flowery declarations wilting on my tongue. The fool was practically bouncing in his seat. “Why are you smiling like that? I’m trying to have a serious moment and you appear as though you either need to use the loo or have inexplicably sat on an anthill in the middle of my room.”

  “Apologies.” He fell to his knees before me, the goofy grin stuck in place as he took both of my hands in his. “I’m not making fun; it’s just—you didn’t drop your gaze or increase the pressure in your grip at all.”

  I glanced skyward, wondering if I even wanted to ask for clarification. “What in the name of the queen does my grip have to do with my declaration of love, Cresswell?”

  “Everything.”

  “I—”

  He captured my mouth with his. Unlike other stolen kisses, which began slow and sweet, there was a passionate heat in this one. Each time our lips or tongues came together, another spark ignited, until soon my entire body felt as if it were ablaze. Judging from the growing intensity of his kiss, and the daring places our hands touched, neither one of us wanted to control it any longer. We were on dangerous ground, which only made the fall more thrilling.

  Thomas still knelt before me, so I pulled him closer, his arms circling my waist as he instinctually pressed his body against mine. Soon he abandoned my lips in favor of kissing my neck, his hands trailing up my sides, leaving no place unattended. I nearly lost my remaining senses as he gently angled my head back, exposing my throat for better access, his fist knotted in my hair. Either he or I made the next move, I wasn’t certain, but suddenly his jacket was on the floor and my robe joined it.

  A chill danced across my skin and I couldn’t help but gasp. The robe had been the only item of clothing keeping me semi-decent. My nightgown left nothing to the imagination. Even in dim lighting, my form was plainly visible. As if he’d just realized this himself, Thomas rocked back on his heels, his breathing quick and uneven, much like my own.

  For a fraction of a heartbeat, he seemed uncertain.

  “Is this all it takes to silence that wicked mouth of yours?” I raised a brow, hoping the quip covered my growing nerves. We were alone in my bedroom, scantily clad, the night before our wedding. I was struggling madly to find a reason to send him away. “If I’d known, I would have worn this ages ago.”

  Thomas’s attention snapped to my face. His expression was filled with such raw longing, I lost my futile battle with Victorian morals. He looked like a man who’d discovered his heart’s deepest desire in the flesh and wished to claim it immediately. I realized that his respect for me and my choice was the only tether holding him in place. One little nod would unleash him.

  My pulse raced as I silently gave him permission, wanting him to touch me again so badly it almost ached. Thomas Cresswell never disappointed. He leaned into me, his body snug between my thighs.

  “Your nightgown is lovely, but your mind is what attracts and captivates me.” His eyes traveled from mine, meandering down the road of delicate lace, igniting a new wave of desire as he gripped the sheer fabric at my hip. His touch was intoxicating. I couldn’t stop myself from arching into it, craving more. “Your body…”

  His focus lingered on the ribbons. I enjoyed the elegance of the garment and how I felt both bold and soft while wearing it. Thomas seemed to appreciate it for other reasons, and he was no longer masking how much he wanted me. I drew in a deep breath and fought the urge to completely disrobe him. If he kept looking at me that way, I’d lose control.

  “Your spirit.”

  Thomas dragged his scorching gaze dow
n every inch of me, leaving no part neglected, his breath hitching the lower it sank. If looks could consume, he’d just devoured me. And I wanted more. A warm sensation started in my toes and moved like honey up my body. It seemed as if Thomas had deduced exactly where the warmth was spreading and wouldn’t mind following the line of sweetness with his mouth. That image almost stopped my heart. I gripped the sides of the bench in a fruitless attempt to rein myself in.

  Misjudging my response, he froze. “I ought to go—”

  I stared at his mouth, trying to corral my emotions. He should go to his chambers. And I should let him. Our virtues could go to hell in just a few hours, after we were wed.

  But instead of agreeing, I reached for the waistband of his trousers, pulling him against me. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I needed him. Suddenly shy at what I was asking, I averted my gaze.

  “Stay here with me tonight. Please.”

  He tilted my chin up, staring deeply into my eyes, and I knew with utter certainty that he’d give me everything I wanted and more. “Forever, Audrey Rose.”

  This time when our kissing began, it was careful and deliberate—yet unrestrained. There were no tethers tying us back. Nothing keeping us from our base instincts. Seeing me naked and vulnerable unleashed a part of Thomas I wasn’t sure he’d known existed. I thought of nothing except the feeling of his fingers and lips. Each place they touched, explored, caressed. Society vanished. Rules vanished. There was no one and nothing except the two of us, completely lost in our own little universe, our bodies uncharted galaxies to explore.

  When Thomas drew back and met my gaze, I knew he saw the answer to his unspoken question reflected in my eyes. Without speaking, he lifted me off the velvet bench and laid me on the bed, his body settling comfortably above mine.

  Neither of us had done this before—had loved so fiercely or freely—and instead of worrying over details, I gave myself over to my feelings completely.

  “I love you, Audrey Rose.”