His hand trailed from my ankle to my calf, leaving goose bumps—and the most glorious tingle in its wake—as he pulled my stocking off. The smoothness of his action felt like it was the most natural act in the world. He repeated the motion with my sore leg, taking extra care to be as gentle as possible, which only made me long for him more. He brought his lips to my scar, showing every piece of me tender affection.
With slightly trembling fingers, I undid the buttons of his shirt, marveling at how beautiful he was both inside and out. His tattoo was completely healed now and was truly a work of art. As if he needed any other ornamentation to refine his already exquisite body.
“How is it you’re so… defined?” I asked, running my hands over his surprisingly hard chest. “Do you take secret sword lessons I ought to know about? This”—I motioned to him—“makes no sense.”
“Truthfully?” Thomas laughed, seeming to release a bit of his own nerves. “I pick up cadavers every day in the laboratory. All that body-hauling business keeps me quite fit and healthy. Plus”—he kissed from my neck down to my collarbone, spending extra care and attention on the area nearest my heart—“I do take fencing lessons, as per my father’s wishes.” At my shocked look, he grinned. “I’ve warned you—expect a lifetime full of surprises, my love.”
A rush went through me at those words. We truly would have an entire lifetime to unravel each mystery the other possessed. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and pressed my lips to his skin, exploring his expanse of chest. His breath caught and I found myself echoing the sound as he pulled the ribbons of my nightgown apart, his attention never leaving my face, constantly searching for any hint of hesitation, any silent plea to stop.
He wouldn’t find it, not even while using his most impressive Cresswell deductions. In a few hours we’d be married, and I was ready to claim him entirely.
In what seemed to be only seconds, we’d both stripped bare. A new sensation of heat began, almost indescribable in its intensity, as Thomas deepened our kiss and slowly, carefully lowered himself. Our bodies came together—and I was wholly cast under the spell of our love.
Heart pounding, skin aflame; each touch and caress was a hundred different feelings vying for my attention at once. Without effort, our bodies knew precisely what to do, how to react, and any hint of discomfort disappeared as we moved together, getting lost in our kisses. I’d imagined being clumsy or stilted as we fumbled through the science of it, petrified my mind would turn to thoughts of anatomy diagrams, taking me from the moment by fretting over mechanics. But I needn’t have worried. I was much too consumed by the sensation of our skin pressed together without restrictions between us. Of the feeling of him. Of us. I gripped the sheets beside me, doing everything in my power to not call out his name.
“Audrey Rose,” he whispered, pausing briefly.
My answer was a kiss, a plea. The careful attention Thomas paid to his deductions was focused entirely on me now—each inhalation, each exhalation. He listened in earnest, reacting and shifting to elicit the same waves of rapture until I was certain I must’ve left my body and become a star shooting across the vast universe.
SIXTEEN
A TANGLE OF LIMBS
AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
5 FEBRUARY 1889
After, we lay in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, our chests rising and falling in unison. Thomas drew idle circles across my stomach. I closed my eyes, allowing pure contentment to settle over me like a blanket. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect experience. It saddened me to think young noblewomen were sometimes instructed to lie back and “think of England” when consummating their marriages. Love ought to be a mutual delight.
Thomas shifted his focus from my stomach to my hair, now running his fingers through my unbound locks, the motion soothing enough for my lids to suddenly feel too heavy to keep open. I closed my eyes, enjoying each careful stroke. I should love to spend eternity falling asleep and waking to this.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more content.”
Thomas leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Well, I can think of at least one other time I’ve felt perfectly content. And it may have been when you ravished me in the bathtub. Or that one time in the library.” I swatted at him, drawing a deep chuckle. “Right, that only happened in my dreams. This is by far one of my happiest memories.”
I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry I’ve been so afraid, Thomas.”
“You know, I’m extraordinary when it comes to puzzling things out, but this is a bit of a mystery even for me. Also, it’s not at all what I’d imagined you saying directly after our first physical expression of love.” He played with my hair for a few quiet moments, twirling locks around his fingers as if they were the greatest marvel of the nineteenth century. “What, exactly, have you been scared of? Me? Or my intimidating manhood?”
“Of course not you.” I shook my head, glancing up, not bothering to acknowledge his other, wicked comment. “Falling. I’m—I fear it.”
A smile curved his devilish lips. “I’ve never taken you for the clumsy type, Wadsworth.”
“Don’t be daft.” I nestled closer to him. “You know what I mean.”
“It would be nice to hear, though. For the sake of proving myself correct, of course.”
I sighed, but relented. “It’s… I find it’s much easier to be brave when it comes to trusting my mind. I know what I’m capable of. What I can improve upon. Learning and making mistakes doesn’t terrify me—it… I’m not sure. It fuels me, I suppose. But love? Letting go and falling completely petrifies me. When I’m vulnerable I feel as though my stomach has plummeted through my knees and the world is spinning out of control. Unlike science and mathematics, there are no formulas I can use to create an absolute outcome. Falling is chaos.”
“It scares you even knowing I’m right there beside you?”
“I believe that scares me more. It terrifies me to think of you loving me as much as I love you. What happens when either one of us dies? We work in death nearly every day. I’ve lost so many people I’ve loved—losing you, sometimes if I think about it I’m unable to breathe. If I open myself up to loving you, to falling completely and without hesitation, I fear what may happen. Not from something you or I do, but life. It feels much safer to be insulated from that.”
“Nothing in life comes with a guarantee, Wadsworth.” Thomas took a deep breath. “Outside forces will always be out of your control. One thing you can control is how you choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us all one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.”
He rolled onto his side and held my hand against his heart.
“Love is immortal. Death can neither touch nor steal it. Especially when it’s true. Let’s add another promise to our tally,” he said. “Promise me to wake each day and find joy wherever you can, no matter how small it may be. There will always be hard times and trying times and times for sorrow, but we won’t let those days destroy the here and now. Because right now? I’m here.” He kissed the top of my head. “And you’re here.” He pressed his lips to my knuckles. “And the present is more glorious than the future and all of its unknowns.”
“How have you not figured out a formula for love yet?” I teased.
“Have you no faith in my mighty brain? Of course I’ve worked out an equation only for us.” Thomas smiled. “My love for you will be a constant in a sea of unknown variables. We may fight or be cross with each other, but our love will never fade or wilt. Trust in that. Trust in us. Forget the future. Forget worry. The only thing that terrifies me is the possibility of living with regret. I don’t ever want to wake and wonder what life could have been like with you in it. I don’t ever want to regret holding myself back from loving you as fully and openly as possible.”
He searched my eyes and part of me wished to fall into the depth of adoratio
n I saw within his expression and swim in the feeling forever.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind…” He quickly looked down. “I—”
“Thomas, never—” I tilted his chin up until our eyes met and held. “I love you. Now and always.”
Before he could doubt or argue it, I kissed him. A few moments later we were exploring our newest form of silent communication, and the rest of the world and worry faded away. We celebrated our love until the sun rose and we could no longer risk being wrapped in each other’s arms. In a few short hours we’d officially become husband and wife.
Then we could stay in bed for eternity.
Thomas reluctantly got up and pulled his trousers on, his hair mussed in a way that had me checking the clock to be sure we couldn’t linger for a little while longer. He caught the look in my eye and beamed. “You are an absolute fiend, Miss Wadsworth. It’s a good thing you’re making an honest man out of me soon. My reputation is in tatters. If you keep gazing at me that way, we’re never going to make it down the aisle.”
“You adore it,” I said, slipping my arms into my robe and sliding out of bed. “And I love you.” I pulled him to me and kissed him properly. “Now, go. I’ll see you in church soon.”
He stared at my robe, his gaze declaring all sorts of trouble as he leisurely took me in.
“I’m sure we can make time… all right! All right, I’m going.” Thomas paused, his fingers tapping the door as he openly admired me one last time. “Do you remember when I teased you about getting you to church?” I nodded, thinking back to our first case together. He smiled, that boyish, vulnerable smile. “After I said it, I’d never hoped for something more.”
My heart felt ready to burst at the seams. Perhaps we could steal a few more moments…
An hour later, Thomas finally crept from my room, whistling quietly as he left me to get some sleep. We’d both need to be up soon to prepare for our day. The next time I saw him would be at the end of an aisle, when we began a new chapter.
One where we wrote our own rules from now until forever.
I slid back between the covers, convinced I’d never be able to sleep, and fell into an immediate and deep slumber. A lovely dream began—a preview of our upcoming nuptials. I was dressed in my wedding gown, my veil trailing like a cloud behind me.
The young man waiting at the altar was dressed in black. From his midnight suit to his shadowy form. Even up to the tips of his twisted horns, gleaming like twin obsidian blades.
My blood prickled. That wasn’t…
I thrashed about, trying to wake myself. The man waiting for me had no face, no discernible features other than the horns on his head. In my dream I began trembling, the bouquet of roses I held pricking my hands. Blood dripped on my dress and onto the ground, mixing with the petals already strewn there. He didn’t speak or move; he simply waited. Silent. Foreboding. Radiating menace. I dug my heels into the smooth marble of the chapel. But it was no use. I was pulled to him as if he were a magnet tugging me closer against my will.
He was only a silhouette, but I recognized who he was. Our destinies seemed fated for this moment. As if we’d been set upon this course our whole lives and all of my choices leading up to this had been mere fiction for his amusement. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t.
It was the first night I dreamed of the devil, and I feared it wouldn’t be the last.
Newspaper article, circa. 1893
SEVENTEEN
STILL AT LARGE
AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
6 FEBRUARY 1889
I sat perfectly still, my tea untouched, as Liza and Daciana worked my hair into perfection. My wedding gown was covered with a large blanket to keep anything from spilling on it, though a few layers of the pale blush and white skirts managed to sneak out.
Made of silk and tulle, the long-sleeved dress was exquisite—something straight out of a fairy tale, with glittering gemstones sewn both into the bodice and at different intervals in my skirts. When I walked, it looked like stars were winking in and out of the sunlight, too excited to wait until nightfall to remain hidden. Tiny blush petals were also clustered around the edge of my modest neckline, with more tendrils reaching for the floor, marrying the two colors of tulle expertly. It was extravagant, but elegant. A shining beacon of wonder.
Unlike my darkening mood.
No matter how much I wished otherwise, the glow I’d felt when Thomas left this morning had been replaced by a shadow. Its talons scraped against my good mood. Between the nightmare and the news I’d just learned, I could not settle my racing thoughts.
Even on the morning of my wedding, Jack the Ripper haunted me. I’d requested the newspaper along with my breakfast tray to be served in my room. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered the latest sensation making front-page news. I regretted not tossing it in the fireplace immediately. I wanted one day free from death. I longed to think only of life as we celebrated our union. Now I could hardly think of anything else with the article glaring at me.
NOT CAUGHT YET.
Many Arrests, but the New York Ripper Is Still at Large.
“See?” Daciana fluffed my hair over one shoulder. “Partially down is a bit softer. It matches the feeling of the gown. So ethereal.” She tugged one of my braids, drawing my attention up. She raised her brows. “You appear as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
I tried offering a smile but worried it was closer to a grimace instead. Judging from the slight narrowing of Daciana’s eyes, she didn’t believe my poor acting. “Liza?” she asked, her tone especially sweet. “I forgot the strand of pearls in my room. Would you mind getting them? They’ll look exquisite tucked into her hair, don’t you think?”
“Oh!” Liza clapped her hands. Her dress was a flowing blush that matched the petals sewn into my many layers. “What a wonderful idea!”
She dashed out the door, intent on embellishing every inch of me until I sparkled more than all the diamonds and jewels woven into my ensemble. I sighed. And here I thought Daciana was on my—I leaned forward, noticing the pearls on the vanity, and flicked my gaze up. “You lied.”
“As did you.” She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “Now, tell me, what’s got you looking so dreadfully pale?”
“It’s nothing. It’s…” I scrambled for one of my worries. I didn’t want to open up a discussion about the Ripper murders; that would lead to too many other inquiries. And I didn’t want to share the details of my silly nightmare. Which left one inquiry I’d had for her anyway. “I received an odd letter or two that hadn’t been signed. I was just remembering it now.”
“A letter?” she asked, adding a few pearls to my braids. “Do you mean the note I sent along to you?” She laughed. “Apologies, dear sister. Ileana and I were in such a rush, I barely had time to scratch a note out to let you know we were coming.”
“But it mentioned having something Thomas needed.”
She picked my hand up, turning it about so the crimson diamond caught the light. “I wanted him to propose with Mother’s ring. He’s so sentimental, though he never lets it show. I knew how much it would mean to him, having her letters and blessing. I adore you and I love my brother immensely. I didn’t mean to cause any strife.”
I let my breath out in a whoosh. At least that was one less thing to worry over. My gaze slid to the newspaper before I tore it away again. Now if I could only stop allowing Jack the Ripper to step from my nightmares into reality, I’d be fine.
Liza huffed back into the room, her face flushed. “Are you certain the pearls were in there? I couldn’t find them.”
Daciana held the strand up, a sheepish look on her face. I studied the way she bit her lip and crinkled her eyes. She was quite convincing. “I must have brought them in and forgot I’d set them on the vanity already.”
Ileana slipped into my chamber, eyes glistening when she saw me fully dressed. “You look so beautiful!” She hugged me close. “I wanted to give you somet
hing. Well, it’s actually from Thomas,” she amended, grinning at my confusion. “Here. He had these made.”
I opened the box she held, pulling a stunning pair of robin’s-egg-blue shoes from tissue paper. Diamonds were sewn across them, shimmering like stars in a cloudless sky. I clasped my hand over my mouth, trying to not cry off the kohl Liza had so carefully put on.
“They’re incredible.”
“Something blue and new,” Daciana murmured. “Your ring is something old.”
“Oh!” Liza rushed about the room, nearly tripping over her skirts. “I almost forgot!” She held up a diamond necklace with a solitary stone that was the size of an eyeball plucked from someone’s head—a charming image for a wedding day. “This is from Mother. She said you may borrow it for the ceremony.”
Daciana lifted my hair and fastened it. “You’re all set.”
Liza, Daciana, and Ileana stepped back, clasping their hands together as they inspected me. Their eyes shone with unshed tears. My family. If they kept this up, we’d all be sobbing messes together. A knock came at the door and suddenly the newspaper article was the furthest worry from my mind. My heart raced as I pushed myself to my feet.
Daciana let my father in and he halted when he saw me. It was hard to tell the exact emotions playing across his features, but the hitch in his voice was unmistakable. “Are you ready, Audrey Rose?”
I drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I am.”
It was finally time to meet my husband at the altar. Neither the devil, nor a nightmare, nor any other nefarious thing would ruin our day.
St. Paul’s Chapel, New York City
EIGHTEEN
MY VOW TO YOU
ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL
BROADWAY, NEW YORK CITY
6 FEBRUARY 1889
Father clutched my arm, his eyes misting as he placed the veil over my face. “You’re a vision, my sweet child. Your mother would be overcome with pride. You look very much like her today.” He adjusted his diamond-pinned cravat and leaned in, whispering, “There’s a carriage waiting in the alley in case you’ve changed your mind. I’ll take care of the details.”
Capturing the Devil Page 12
