by Robyn DeHart
“None of them sound as if they would be good candidates for Jack the Ripper,” Anna said. “Though their hobby is disgraceful and certainly would have fit with the Ripper’s tactics.” She frowned, then said, “Were there any other students who got in similar trouble or simply dropped out? Promising students with a great deal of talent with a blade?” she added.
“I’m getting to that.” He pointed his pipe at her. “Patience, young lady. Now then, I was always convinced there was a fourth boy in their group. None of the others would ever reveal his name. He was never caught. But I had my suspicions. Two candidates as far as I could tell: William Henry and Peter Winstead.”
“What happened to them?” Drew asked.
“As you may know, William Henry is the Queen’s nephew, so I suspect he is doing royal things. I really have no notion.” He coughed again, took another few sips from his drink to calm his breathing. “He did not graduate. Instead he quit school and decided to live off of his rich relatives. Winstead, though, did graduate. Not from the London School of Medicine, mind you, but from some smaller school in Scotland. He is a practicing physician in London.” Then Carroway shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust him with my health. He was always far too arrogant to be a decent physician. Makes up his mind before he has all the facts.”
Drew made notes of everything the doctor had said. They had new names and therefore potential suspects.
“You two best be on your way.” He pointed his cane to the window. “That rain is only going to get worse.”
“Thank you,” Drew said.
As Anna came to her feet, they both thanked Doctor Carroway again and then made their way to the carriage. Rain had seeped into their clothes by the time they reached it, and Anna shivered as Drew helped her inside.
Their rig turned back on the main road and started back for London.
Anna tried to keep her focus on the investigation and not on the tingle of happiness that had shot through her upon being referred to as Drew’s wife. It was something she couldn’t allow herself to want unless she wanted to have her heart broken. Drew had made it quite clear that there could be nothing of the sort between them. “That was potentially quite helpful,” she said, forcing her mind off of such thoughts.
“Indeed. Though none of their names are on the lists from the tobacco shops.” Drew was quiet a moment. “Couldn’t help but notice Doctor Carroway smoked the same blend.”
“I wonder if that could be where the would-be doctor first came in contact with the tobacco,” she said.
“You’ve never told me, you know,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “Told you what?”
“Why you want to be a doctor.”
It wasn’t often that people ever bothered to make that inquiry. They quickly placed judgment on her choice, but rarely asked why she’d made said choice. “My father was always interested in medicine, but as the heir to the viscountcy, he couldn’t very well go to medical school. So when I showed an early interest, he fed that with books and special tutors.”
She eyed Drew, and he showed no signs that he’d stopped listening or decided her tale was dull. “When I was fourteen, one of our beloved servants came down with cholera and she didn’t have the necessary funds to pay for the care she desperately needed. She died before my father knew what had happened, as he would have certainly helped with her care.” She shook her head as a wave of grief shook through her. “I don’t know if it was because of my age that it made such an impact on me. But obviously the male doctors aren’t serving the poor so it will be up to us women to take care of such matters.”
“You intend to only work with the poor?”
“I should like to open a hospital to serve the poor. Make it easier for those who are less fortunate to get medical care when they need it.”
“Are there not already such establishments?”
“Yes, but they don’t cater specifically to women. Despite the advancement of our society and all of the industrialization, women are still seen as property in this country, as burdens.”
“You intend to change that,” he said.
“I’m going to try.”
He smiled. “You are a remarkable woman, Annabelle Jacobs. I do hope you know that.”
His words hit their mark and tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You must have loved her.” He’d obviously mistaken her tears for those of grief and not appreciation.
“I did. Very much. She had been with me since I was a small girl. I loved her as I would any member of my family.” She paused for a while, wondering what his childhood had been like. Then she remembered his mother and the things he’d said about her. If he’d grown up being treated in such a fashion, no wonder he’d been inclined to drink too much. “Did you have anyone similar in your life?”
“Someone who died of cholera?”
She smiled at his poor attempt at a joke. “No, I merely meant someone you loved, someone who took good care of you, loved you well?” She could love him well. The thought spun through her mind and she nearly lost her breath. No. She would not let herself love him.
“My brother Alex and I were quite close growing up. We’re close in age. Our eldest brother, Stephen, didn’t seem to care for me overly much. But he was an odd sort.”
There was a loud crack, and then the carriage teetered.
Anna grabbed onto Drew. “What’s happening?”
The rig veered to the left, then tilted to the right, where it finally came to a jarring stop.
“I think we might have lost a wheel. I’ll go check.” He jumped down from the carriage and, sure enough, quickly returned to report they’d lost a wheel in the mud.
“There’s an inn right through that clearing,” the driver said, pointing from outside the open door. “Best to wait out the rain there while I get this fixed.”
Drew nodded. He held his hand out to Anna. “We’ve got to take shelter,” he said loudly over the rain. “We can’t stay in the carriage while it’s broken. Hopefully we’ll be able to return to London by morning.”
She allowed him to help her out of the rig. He draped his greatcoat over her. It helped, but her wet clothes and the continual beating of the chilled rain made her teeth chatter. “Where are we going? Back to Doctor Carroway’s?”
“No, there’s an inn right through those trees. Can you run?”
“Of course I can, though I can’t promise how fast in these slippers. They’re not exactly designed for this weather.” But run she did. They were thoroughly drenched by the time they reached the inn, quaintly called The Pig’s Ear Inn.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The innkeeper led them to their room, and once they were closed inside Anna immediately began trying to dry herself off with her handkerchief. She patted her face and then removed her hat and continued to attempt to remove the excess water. Her efforts were futile; she was far too wet.
“I know that both of us in this room could easily disparage your reputation,” he said. “But I felt as if it’s safest for you. I shall sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. Then she sighed heavily. “This handkerchief is simply moving water from one part of my body to the next. In any case, we can share the bed. It is for one night and no one has to know of this incident.”
She was a practical sort, but Anna took for granted that he had more restraint than he possessed. He’d already taken more liberties with her than he ought, and were he next to her body all night long, it would be beyond his control to resist her charms. But as he saw no other options, he would not argue the point.
“I’ll go and see if I can locate us some drier clothes. And order some warm food.”
“Before you go, could you unbutton me?” She turned her back toward him, giving him access to the long row of buttons that slid down her back. “If I don’t g
et out of this wet frock, I shall certainly catch a fever.”
He moved behind her and slowly unfastened the buttons. His hands shook slightly, but he assured himself it was nothing more than the chill in the air and the fact that his own clothes were exceptionally wet. He forced himself to move quicker so that he could leave the room before she removed anything. When all the buttons were undone, he stepped away, turning his back to her.
“The quilt there should be enough to warm you up while your dress dries.” Then he left the room.
Drew exhaled slowly once the door was closed. Here he’d thought denying himself a drink had been a challenge. Tonight would certainly prove the most challenging of everything he’d faced.
The food turned out easy to come across—the innkeeper’s wife had made a hearty pheasant stew and had warm bread. She busied herself fixing them a tray of food. The clothes, on the other hand, proved more challenging. While the innkeeper’s wife was rather friendly, she was also quite plump, which boded well for their meal, but meant that any of her clothing would swallow Anna whole. But she did find some extra blankets for them.
He thanked her and made his way back to their room.
Anna sat wrapped in the quilt like some Grecian goddess, in the only chair in the room, her legs bent up against her body. All of her clothing hung on the screen outside the fireplace. Every. Single. Piece. Which meant she was completely nude beneath that quilt. He stopped in his tracks and took in the sight of her, how the light flickering of the fire illuminated her hair. Tonight she was a goddess.
Her bare arms and shoulders and the delicate arch of her collarbone left his mouth dry. He could spend hours kissing just that spot.
He cleared his throat and hoped she wouldn’t notice the strain of his arousal against his trousers. “They had additional blankets for us, but no clothes that would fit. But the food will help.” He set it down on the bed. There was no where else to put it. “You start eating. I’m going to get out of my own wet clothes.” He grabbed a blanket, then moved behind the changing screen and peeled his wet clothes from his body. He did his best to focus on the coldness of his clothes to try to staunch his arousal. He dried his wet body as best he could then wrapped the blanket around him in as much of a toga as he could fashion. It left his arms and chest mostly uncovered, but Anna was training as a doctor—she would be familiar with the male form. He stepped around the screen, carrying his own clothes and carefully hung them, too, from the screen so the fire could dry them.
Anna now sat on the bed cradling a bowl of the stew. Her mouth was full, but she gave him a bit of a smile. “This is delicious,” she muttered, then tilted her head. “And so warm.”
She was ridiculously adorable. “I suspected it might be. Our hostess appears as if she is quite adept in the kitchen.”
“I’ve never had a picnic on a bed before.” She paused a moment. “Then again, I’ve never been trapped nude in a country inn with a man.”
“Hmm . . . I suspected this was part of your regular routine.” He narrowed his eyes playfully at her, relieved that they could rely on humor to deflect from his intense attraction to her. “You definitely seem the type to—”
“Get caught nude with men?” She shook her head and grinned broadly. “No, I admit, this is my first time.”
“Well, you’re handling it as a professional would.”
She chewed and swallowed her bite of bread before asking, “Did you just insinuate that I was a prostitute?”
He laughed. “No, you are most definitely not a prostitute.”
They went back to eating in silence and he did everything he could not to look at her, not to watch her mouth while she nibbled on her bread and licked broth off her lips.
Christ, he wanted a drink. He was so bloody tired of tea and coffee. He wanted that burning sensation as the brandy warmed his throat. He wanted his senses dulled so he would stop wanting this woman he had no business wanting. And yet he knew that as tempting as brandy was, it held nothing over Annabelle Jacobs.
***
She saw the shift in Drew’s mood in his eyes. They’d been jesting with one another and then darkness settled upon him. She’d seen it happen once before, but it had been so quick, he’d been able to turn away. But here in this tiny room, as they dined atop this bed, covered in sheets, he couldn’t turn away.
There was such intimacy in the setting, it was hard to deny, hard to not be overwhelmed by it. This was the setting for lovers, a married couple. She and Drew, they were what? Partners in an investigation? She didn’t know if he’d take it that far. She was merely assisting him.
“Why the dark mood?” she ventured.
“I want a drink,” he said. Then he swore, shook his head.
“You didn’t mean to admit that?”
“No, I didn’t. But I know you’ve seen that weakness in me.”
“What is it you want?”
One of his eyebrows quirked. “I don’t think we’re quite ready for that conversation. But to drink, I would take a brandy, bourbon, scotch, anything with a little punch.”
“I tried scotch once. I thought it was dreadful.” She shook her head, remembering the foul liquid. “It burned and scratched its way down my throat as if I’d swallowed an angry bird. I’ve never been certain how anyone could abide the stuff.”
“Consider yourself fortunate, then.”
“So you want a drink, but you don’t want to have one; is this the problem?” she asked.
“Are you always this nosy?”
“Yes. It’s part of my inquisitive nature. It’s what makes me a good doctor, or what will make me a good doctor. And I suppose what assists with helping in this investigation.”
“Inquisitive is simply a more polite word for nosy.” His jesting tone was back.
“Perhaps. And you don’t have to answer the question.”
He was quiet for several moments, and she allowed him the reprieve. If he was going to talk to her, she would not force him. She might be nosy, as he suggested, but it was only because of her seemingly unquenchable interest in him.
“The reason that bastard was able to pin those murders on me was because I was too drunk to notice,” he said finally. “My stint in prison was a convenient way to quit drinking, because they wouldn’t give me any. I haven’t had anything since I’ve been out, but not for lack of desire.” He shook his head. “It’s clear to me now that I obviously have a problem with the stuff, and it clouds my mind too much.”
She wasn’t certain what she should say. So she merely leaned forward and placed a hand on his.
He looked up at her, his amber-colored eyes narrowed with suspicion, and then the hard lines softened. “And your brother made it quite clear that if I wanted to work this case with Scotland Yard, I was not allowed to be inebriated.”
She smiled. “That sounds like Simon.”
“Are you finished?” he asked, indicating the dishes in front of them.
“Yes, thank you.”
He cleared the dishes and she watched him move. The muscles in his arms were masterfully defined, and she knew that Drew must take care of his physique. They flexed and moved as he set the dishes down and then turned back to face her. Without the food between them, she was able to focus clearly on the man who stood before her. The blanket covered most of his body from her, except part of his chest and arms and his bare feet. There was something incredibly intimate about seeing a man’s feet. She took a deep breath.
“I suppose we should get some sleep. Hopefully the rain will be gone come morning, though the roads might still be too muddy to traverse until midday,” he said. He made to lay himself on the floor and she held up a hand.
“Drew, I told you, there is no reason for you to sleep on the floor when we have a perfectly acceptable bed here. It will fit both of us.”
“I don’t want to do anything to damage your re
putation,” he said.
“I don’t believe you care about reputations anymore than you do hair ribbons, but it is kind of you to say. But allow me to concern myself with my own reputation.” And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already ruined her, though no one knew of their secret kisses. She patted the bed next to her. “Come. All will be well.” She moved herself so that she could shimmy beneath the coverlet of the bed and she found the mattress surprisingly comfortable as she extended her body.
He stood for several moments watching her, obviously warring with himself about what he should do. Then he finally stepped over toward her. He doused the lamp, then she felt the bed shift beneath his weight as he laid down. He did not slip himself beneath the coverlet, much to her chagrin, as she craved his warmth. Still she knew he was there next to her.
“Would you like me to share a secret as well?” she asked.
“Beg your pardon?” His voice seemed even deeper in the darkness.
She shivered in response. “I only meant that you have shared your struggles with drinking alcohol and that I could share something with you, too.”
The bed moved as he rolled over to face her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness to some degree and she could make out his head as he leaned up on his elbow. “Annabelle Jacobs, please share your deepest, darkest secret with me.”
In that moment she wished she had something deliciously wicked to share with him, something that would shock him. But her life had been relatively lackluster up until this point. “I’ve always felt that my mother preferred my eldest sister and brothers to me. She doesn’t understand me at all and thinks I am wasting my time going to medical school when what I should be doing is parading myself about London in search of a husband. Though I will say that she’s not bothered me about such things in a few weeks.”
