by Shelley Gray
“We will have to pay her family a call soon, Eloisa,” Mrs. Carstairs said. Smoothing her skirts, she added, “It can’t be helped. I will need to do some thinking about what is the appropriate space of time. One mustn’t be too eager to visit, you know.”
“You will do what is right, dear. You always do,” Evan replied. Turning to Sean, his tone turned abrupt again. “Now that that is taken care of, do you need anything else?”
As a matter of fact, Sean felt he needed many other things, the least of which was that he wished to have a moment to speak to Eloisa in private. It was obvious she would never tell him anything of worth in front of her parents.
Luckily, Sean was prevented from answering right away by the arrival of a brass cart filled with a teapot, a coffeepot, a tray of currant scones, and a dish of tarts. All of it looked finer than anything he’d had the pleasure of sampling.
“Looks like we’re eating too,” Mr. Carstairs stated. “Good. I’m starved.”
“Yes, dear,” his wife murmured as she began serving. “Detective, what would you like?”
Though the treats looked tempting, visions of his thick fingers maneuvering the fragile china cups propelled him to refuse the offering. “I’m afraid I must beg off. I appreciate your offer, but I must admit that I also came to ask Miss Carstairs more questions about last night.”
Her father waved a hand curved around a lemon-curd tart. “Ask away, then.”
After sharing a glance with Eloisa, Sean forced a thread of regret in his voice. “Forgive me, but it would be best if I spoke with her privately.”
Mr. Carstairs paused in mid-bite. “Surely not.”
Her mother sniffed. “You might not realize this, Detective, but it isn’t quite appropriate for you to converse with Eloisa privately.”
Against his will, his cheeks heated. “All the same—”
“Mother, I will be fine with Lieutenant Ryan,” Eloisa interrupted.
Her mother, who had been filling her own plate, paused. “What could you possibly have to tell him that you couldn’t say in front of us?”
“It won’t take long,” Sean said.
Mr. Carstairs’s eyes narrowed. “What game are you playing, Ryan?”
Sean hardened his voice. “Not a one, sir. I’m only doing the job the city trusts me to do.”
Mrs. Carstairs fussed with the lace bordering her wrist. “I still don’t think it is proper for a young lady such as Eloisa to have private conversations with a policeman.”
“There is nothing wrong with being a policeman, Mother,” Eloisa retorted. “You know Owen Howard is one.”
Mrs. Carstairs’s cup rattled in her saucer. “Perhaps we could speak about this another time, dear.”
Sean was about to point out that he was not there on a social call when Eloisa stood up.
“Lieutenant Ryan, I know it is cool outside, but perhaps you would allow me to show you the gardens in the back?”
Her mother sputtered. “Eloisa, this is not the time . . .”
Skillfully ignoring both of her parents, Eloisa smiled at Sean, the expression lighting her face. “My mother is right. The gardens are not quite the thing of beauty they are in the spring or summer, but they’re still quite beautiful.”
“Thank you, Miss Carstairs,” he murmured as he got to his feet. “I would like to see the gardens very much.” Turning to her parents, who now looked like a pair of disapproving statues, he nodded. “Again, I promise I won’t be long.”
And with that, he followed Eloisa out of the room and back down the hall. Her yellow dress once again captured his eyes and ignited his imagination. It emphasized her delicate features and golden hair. The bustle was ornate and carefully hooked in a cascade of intricate folds. Remembering how one of his sisters had once begged their mother for enough fabric to create such a gown but had been promptly turned down, Sean realized that he finally understood the beauty of such a dress. It was everything feminine in the world.
But, perhaps, that was Eloisa?
She stopped in the foyer as Worthy mysteriously appeared and handed Sean his coat and hat. Another footman appeared with a velvetlined cloak for her. And then, with a flourish, Worthy opened the imposing front door again, and Sean followed Eloisa out.
Once the door was closed again, she smiled at him. “I’m so sorry about my parents and their blustering. I’m sure it was beyond horrible.”
“Not at all.” He was tempted to remind her that he’d seen far worse things than protective parents. That she should be grateful that they cared enough about her to do everything they could to keep her safe.
She wrinkled her nose. “How well you lie! I promise, when I informed my parents that you would be returning this morning, I had no idea they’d want to talk to you as well.”
“They did everything that was proper,” he said as he held out his arm for her to take.
As she took his arm, she gazed at him with a new, far cooler expression. “I am sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
He had a lovely woman—the woman of his very secret affections— on his arm and was currently meandering along the grounds of a magnificent estate. Nothing should be wrong.
But the fact of the matter was that he was indeed uncomfortable, especially because though he would love to pretend that he was there only to chat about flowers and how pretty she looked in yellow, many other things needed to be discussed. “Miss Carstairs—”
“Couldn’t we simply call each other by our first names?”
“If that is what you would like, Eloisa. My name is Sean.”
Smiling, she nodded. “I know that.”
They walked a little farther from the house and entered the gardens, where only carefully trimmed evergreen hedges and some white chrysanthemums decorated their path.
“Eloisa, I didn’t lie when I said I needed more information from you about last night. About Danica.”
“All right.”
“Tell me what else you know of her.”
The broad question seemed to make her worried. “I don’t know her all that well.”
“But she is in your social circle.”
“She is, but I’m afraid it’s a rather large social circle.” After a slight pause, she said, “Danica and I were acquaintances at best. I haven’t shared a private conversation with her in some time.”
“I see.”
“Also, I was with you when we heard the scream, Sean. So I certainly didn’t see if she was conversing with someone before the Slasher attacked.”
“So you saw no one at the party who was unusual? Who was not part of your usual, uh, crowd?”
“Other than a policeman in an ill-fitting suit?” she murmured, her eyes softly teasing. “No.”
Though he knew she spoke the truth, he was still embarrassed about how out of place he’d looked. “I see.”
“Couldn’t Danica tell you anything?”
“Not at the moment. Miss Webster couldn’t give us any clues besides the fact that he was large and wore a black cloak. It’s regretful that she chose to be about the grounds alone.”
She shivered. “He may very well attack again.”
“I fear it is a possibility.” Actually, he’d had a frank discussion with his captain about that the evening before. They’d come to the conclusion that the Society Slasher was becoming more aggressive and taking more chances with every victim. Captain Keaton had even predicted he would likely kill his next victim if he wasn’t apprehended.
But of course there was no reason to share such a thing to a gently bred young lady like Eloisa.
Her bottom lip trembled. As he watched her fold into herself, keeping her emotions tightly contained, he had a sudden desire to wrap his arms around her and hold her to him.
“Eloisa, when we parted last night, and I said that I’d be returning, I’m afraid I led you to believe that I needed to question you further about last night’s incident.”
“Don’t you? You’ve already asked me some questions.”
“No. We were together when we heard the cry. Even if I thought you might know something—which I do not—you were not near the scene.” After glancing up at the house, he stopped near a cove of evergreens. “Eloisa, I wanted to talk to you about your . . . incident.”
Her expression turned perfectly blank. “There is nothing more to talk about.”
“If it weighs on you, perhaps there is.”
“I fear I have been feeling very sorry for myself, Sean. I know I am now . . . ruined.”
“Not ruined,” he interrupted. Far too roughly for her delicate sensibilities, he was sure.
She didn’t say a word, only averted her eyes.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “Owen often says I have the manners of a mule. My cloddish attempt at showing my concern has just proven that to be true.”
She blinked, then to what looked like both of their surprise, the corners of her lips curved up slightly. “Manners of a mule might be putting things a bit harshly.”
“Still, I am sorry. It’s just that I am concerned about your welfare. I certainly don’t want to do anything to give you further discomfort.” Even as he stumbled over his words, he prayed she at least understood that his heart was in the right place. While he knew it would be best for her to at last confide everything she was feeling to someone, he knew this was not the time. Perhaps he was not the person.
“Lieutenant, your concern could never bring me any measure of discomfort. Not compared to what happened.” She stopped in front of him. Stared.
In that moment, he saw the shadows in her eyes, saw pain. And, he guessed, a desire to share that pain. Deciding to err toward bluntness, he said, “Do you want to speak about what Mr. Sloane did? As I said, nothing you could say would shock me, and nothing you tell me will be repeated.”
She inhaled sharply.
He let her have that moment, remembering everything he’d heard about Douglass. He also remembered the rumors Owen had shared when they were investigating the wealthy heir’s death. Rumors of philandering. Of him forcing himself on maids. And the startling rumor that he’d also forced himself on a young lady.
A young lady with such a spotless reputation, who was so well regarded, that even the idea that someone could treat her so harshly was difficult to imagine.
And as his eyes skimmed Eloisa’s face, he noticed she was holding herself as if she could break at any moment. The shame that stained her expression. “You see . . . Douglass, he . . .” Her voice drifted off before gazing at him again, offering a silent plea for help.
And because he was the man, because he’d already privately promised himself that he would do anything and everything he possibly could to help her, he said the words. “Douglass Sloane raped you.”
She visibly flinched. Inhaled, then at last nodded. “Yes. Yes, he did.”
He turned away as anger coursed through him. He’d grown up on the outskirts of the tenements. So though he’d never actually experienced the life of the truly downtrodden, he’d certainly been aware of women being beaten and injured.
With thirteen years’ experience on the force, he’d witnessed firsthand the injuries women could sustain when at the mercy of uncaring, violent men. “Were you injured?” When she paled, he wished he had bitten his tongue. In his efforts to help her move forward, his manner of plain speaking had shocked her. Of course she had no idea what damage could be done. No one did unless they’d seen the evidence for themselves. He still remembered the first time he’d seen a woman who’d been beaten and viciously assaulted. He’d promptly vomited, much to his shame.
Or did she know?
“Eloisa, do you, perhaps, still need to see a physician?”
She pressed her hands over her face. “I cannot even believe we are speaking of such things.”
Unable to help himself any longer, he pressed his palms over her hands before gently guiding them away from her face. “This conversation is not the travesty, Eloisa,” he said as he gently traced one finger along her jaw. “What was done to you was. Do you need assistance in locating a doctor? I could find one for you who would keep his silence.”
She inhaled a shaky breath. “When I spoke of being ruined, I meant that my reputation will be if anyone ever finds out. I don’t know what man would ever want a woman with my past.”
Sean wished he were naïve enough not to understand what she meant. But of course he did. “That is not who you are. I promise you, you are far more than the results of one night’s pain.”
“Until very recently, I have been afraid to leave the house. Even though I know Douglass is gone, a part of me is still very afraid of being accosted again. I dream of it.”
“That would be a natural reaction, I am sure.”
“Perhaps. However, I am also at a loss of what to do with the rest of my life. I had planned to marry, you see.”
“Why couldn’t you still marry?”
“I would be duty bound to tell any fiancé what happened.”
“So?”
“No man will want me when he discovers the truth.”
“You are just as beautiful as you ever were,” he said, stumbling over his last reticence. No longer afraid of them both remembering their stations in society.
No longer caring that he should never be saying such familiar words to a woman like her.
“But not as innocent.”
“Beg your pardon, but I would have to disagree.”
Her skin flushed, leaving him to chastise himself again. “I’ve meant no offense, though I can see now that I have said far too much. Please forget I ever said such a thing.” Then to his surprise, she grasped his sleeve. “Lieutenant Ryan, Sean . . . last night, when you spoke of taking an off-duty paying job and giving the money to Hope House, it interested me.”
Though he was still reeling from her disclosure, he allowed her to switch topics. “Yes. Hope House is a shelter for orphaned children, as well as some women who have nowhere else to go.”
“When you get paid, will you deliver the money there yourself?”
“I had planned to. Or else I will send it along with my sister Maeve. She volunteers there.”
Eloisa straightened her shoulders. “I think I would like to volunteer there too. Or at least visit. Or, perhaps, simply give a donation.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“I’d like to see Hope House. Would you, perhaps, consider escorting me there?”
“It is in the south side. Not at all fashionable.” And, though his sister Maeve often worked there, and even his youngest sister, Katie, he was reluctant to expose Eloisa to such darkness. “I’m afraid it might not be the right avenue for you to serve. You might not find it safe.”
“If you stayed by my side, would I be safe?”
“Yes.” If he were at her side, he would make sure nothing untoward ever happened to her.
“Then I will be just fine.”
Thinking of her elegant perfection in the midst of so many coarse persons gave him pause. “If you are certain?”
“I need something more than my fears. I need to think of something more than myself.” New emotion filled her voice. “I need this, Sean. Please.”
He could never refuse such a request. “Then I will take you, Eloisa.”
“When?”
He smiled. “You are eager.”
She looked down at her yellow slippers. Slippers that looked so fine and delicate, he was surprised the pebbles under her feet didn’t bruise them. “I suppose I am.”
“I have a day off on Sunday. Sometimes I stop by there on Sunday afternoons, around two o’clock, during the time my sister volunteers to give the regular staff some time off. Would that be an acceptable time?”
“I will make sure I am available. Could I meet you outside the lending library on Polk Street? If I walk there, my mother will simply think I am doing just that—taking a walk in a safe area with lots of others taking strolls. She is used to my doing that on a Sunday afternoon.”
> “If that is what you would like, yes,” he answered, already regretting his promise. What was he doing, agreeing to spend time with a girl like Eloisa Carstairs? Agreeing to take her to the south side, to walk where trash littered the streets, where dirt and filth and suffering lived almost everywhere.
“Thank you. Would meeting a half hour earlier give us enough time to get there?”
Stepping away, he fastened a smile and nodded. “I need to go back to the precinct, but before I do, I would be very much obliged if you would show me the rest of these gardens.”
“We both know that was merely a ruse to talk to you alone.”
“Yes, but if I was your mother or papa, I’d be wondering why I haven’t seen us in the gardens yet.”
“Then by all means, let me show you my mother’s pride and joy—her rose bushes.”
“Lead on, Miss Carstairs. I can hardly wait to see them.”
Her light, melodic giggle floated through the air, mingling with the faint scent of late-blooming roses.
And Sean admitted to himself that he’d never been more enchanted.
CHAPTER 5
So sorry, Mrs. Cameron!” Katie Ryan called out as she almost ran over one of the old biddies gossiping on one corner of Haversham Street.
“Katherine Jean, you will stop right this minute.”
Though she would have loved to keep running as far as she could from those ladies and their eagle eyes, Katie turned around and faced her nemesis. “Ma’am?”
Mrs. Cameron—all four feet, eleven inches of her—glared at her imperiously. “Instead of apologizing in such a scattered manner, I would expect you to have learned by now to show some respect for your elders.”
Knowing that if she didn’t give Mrs. Cameron her due, her mother would never hear the end of it, Katie bit back her pride and proceeded to do whatever it took to smooth things over. “Yes, ma’am,” she agreed, attempting to look contrite. “I am sorry. You are right, and that is a fact. I need to take better care of where I am going.”
Thick black eyebrows, which Katie always thought looked like unfortunate caterpillars, edged together. “And where might you be going at this time of day?”
