He stiffened and I wished to cram the words back in, but I couldn’t deny my racing emotions. Even though it might make him uncomfortable, we ought to share our innermost fears. If I’d learned anything from our time with the carnival, it was the power of sharing the parts of myself I worried might scare him away. I twined our fingers, putting emphasis on the strength of them woven together as one.
“I do not regret sharing a bed with you. Not now or ever. I-I’m uncomfortable not knowing what comes next. What if you must wed Miss Whitehall? What happens then?” I took a steadying breath. “If you share her bed, I cannot be your mistress, Thomas. I will not do that to myself, no matter how much of my heart you possess.”
He was quiet a moment. Almost as silent as the dead. I gathered my courage and looked at him, seeing just how tense he’d gotten. “Do you believe that’s something I would do to you? That I’d allow my father to do to us?”
The dangerous calm of his tone sent gooseflesh racing along my spine. Liza was right. I’d never seen this side of Thomas. I didn’t fear him; I feared the war he might wage for me. Thomas was a young man who’d found happiness, and he’d clutch at it until his body turned to dust.
“What are the terms of the betrothal?”
“None that cannot be broken,” he said, his voice as cool as ice chips.
I didn’t believe his bravado for a moment. I glanced up sharply, studying him. There. In the slight curve of his frown. “May I see the letter myself?” He hesitated, a moment too long, but bent to retrieve it. I read quickly and silently, cursing as I finished. It was much worse than I’d feared. “Thomas… he will disown you. You will have no title, no money, no home.”
The enormity of the situation threatened to knock me over.
“You cannot—” I forced myself to sit straight, to turn my spine to steel. “You cannot give that up. Not for me.”
Thomas stood, bending down to look in my eyes. “He might take my English title, but my mother’s ancestral home does not belong to him. She saw to it that it would pass to Daciana before I came of age. Much as he might wish he could, he cannot take my Romanian lineage from me. If the choice is between you and a title I don’t care for? My answer is simple.”
“Is it something you can truly live with giving up?” I asked. “Or will a seed of resentment be planted here”—I touched his heart—“growing over time until you regret your decision?”
Silence crept in the spaces between our breaths, waiting to be banished, but it seemed he welcomed it. I wanted Thomas to deny my fears, call them ridiculous, but he stood there, fiddling with my ring, bereft of words. It was easy to believe you could forsake your name in favor of love—in theory. When faced with the consequences that tumbled like stones falling down a cliff, it wasn’t quite as simple. Blessedly—or yet another cursed act; it was hard to distinguish between the two—someone knocked at my door.
No longer caring who witnessed us sitting alone together, I called out, “Come in.”
Daciana swept in like a storm descending on the shore, eroding the remainder of my calm. Her eyes flashed. “You’re not the only one who our dear father wrote to.” She clutched a letter in her fist, holding it up for us to see. “He’s threatened me.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Thomas’s light tone did not match the fearful look in his eyes. I imagined another stone falling from the avalanche his father had started.
“You underestimate our father.” A tear slid down Daciana’s cheek. “If you do not agree to his terms, I will be married to that old, rotten friend of his immediately.”
I glanced between them, noticing the remaining color drain from Thomas’s face.
“Who?” he asked, his voice already laced with dread.
“The one whose previous wives have gone missing.” Daciana seemed more inclined to gouge someone’s eyes out rather than cry now. “And our home in Bucharest will revert to my new husband as the law decrees. You and I will have nothing left of Mother.”
TWENTY-ONE
AN IMPOSSIBLE POSITION
AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
6 FEBRUARY 1889
Thomas went preternaturally still, reminding me of the vampire rumors that ran in his family. Hair at the nape of my neck stood on end. A strange energy crackled in the space around us, a charge waiting for the tiniest spark to explode. He stood, hands unmoving at his sides, chest hardly rising. I imagined on the inside he was a tangle of chaotic energy. It was the only explanation for how frightfully calm he was. Thomas always tapped his fingers or paced. He was never still. Not like this.
Finally, he blinked. “I’m eighteen. Father’s threat is meaningless. As of Mother’s decree, the property is now mine. And since I’m in charge, I say you can refuse the marriage and live in our family’s home forever. Ileana, too.” He looked at me, a glimmer of hope entering his features. “Wadsworth and I will live there as well. If she chooses to. We needn’t worry about London society or courts or pledges of unrequited betrothals. We can leave all of it behind. Father won’t follow us to Romania. If anything, he’ll be pleased his problems have been resolved.”
Daciana’s eyes watered. I let out a sigh. Thomas and I could still be together. We’d move to Romania. All would be well. If this had happened just weeks ago, we’d all be in a world of trouble. I was still unsure how I felt about God; however, if He resolved this so swiftly—
“You misunderstand.” Daciana’s voice quavered. “His threat isn’t only to me.” Her hand trembled slightly as she held the letter out. “He’s threatened Ileana. If we do not bend to his will, he’s going to tell her family about our relationship.”
I’d always imagined Thomas’s irises being warm like melted chocolate. Currently they reminded me of burning coals. They were nearly black with his sudden rage. “He cannot prove—”
“He’s been reading my letters,” she said. “He’s made copies by tracing them. It’s how he knew about your growing affection for Audrey Rose.” Thomas released a litany of curses. “And Ileana… she’s a Hohenzollern, Thomas,” Daciana whispered. “The scandal will not only destroy her family but her place in the Order. She will be banished from their ranks. It would—the disgrace would destroy her.”
“Did you say she’s a Hohenzollern?” I nearly pitched forward. I’d known Ileana was a member of the Romanian nobility, but I hadn’t a clue how far up the ranks her family was. She was a princess of Romania. Our situation had gone from bad to passable back to hopeless in a few breaths. What his father was doing was deplorable.
I glanced at Thomas, tensing at the pained expression on his face. If this were a game, his father had successfully outmaneuvered him. There were no other cards for us to pull, no tricks we could use to wriggle out of this mess. Thomas would marry Miss Whitehall, or everyone he loved—aside from me—would be ruined. I was only ruined in a different way.
It was an impossible position. If he picked me, he was damning his sister and her beloved and losing both of his ancestral homes. He’d also lose his title. And he’d lose his future. If he did as his father commanded, he’d break my heart and his own. There were no winners in this game.
Except his father and Miss Whitehall. They’d get everything they desired.
I waited, pressing my hands hard against my center, wondering when it would feel like my heart had been punched out again. I ought to feel better, knowing Miss Whitehall was only after a marriage of convenience. That his father didn’t dislike me, but longed for status more than his son’s happiness. Neither of those realizations dulled the growing ache.
I peeked at Thomas and the hole in my chest expanded. He appeared to be grappling with this same understanding, weighing out each decision and its consequence. In his face I saw the absence of hope. Our future was doomed.
Daciana collapsed onto my settee, head in her hands. “There’s no way around this. If only Ileana and I had been more discreet—”
Thomas was before his sister at once, expression fierce. He gen
tly clutched her wrists, drawing them away from her tearstained face. “Do not ever blame yourself or Ileana. You have every right to love each other as freely as anyone else. He’s playing this game as filthily as possible because he has no options left. If he did, he’d have saved these threats for some other terrible scheme. Father is twisted and brutal and this is his issue, not yours. Agreed?”
She sniffled, turning her pleading gaze to me. “Audrey Rose, I cannot apologize enough, if only—”
“Thomas is right.” I interrupted before she lost herself to hysterics and I joined her. “This isn’t your fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault.” I ran my hand through my hair, tugging it a bit to ease the headache that was forming. “Please don’t apologize or feel responsible.”
Thomas sat on the floor, lost in thought. Liza had been correct—he’d never stop trying to unravel this puzzle until he found a way to solve it. He’d run himself through before he gave up.
“What if…” Daciana rubbed her temples. “What if you married Miss Whitehall,” she asked, holding her hand up when Thomas appeared ready to launch himself into a tirade, “then you’d neither consummate it, nor ever live with her. It would be a marriage in name only. Then you and Audrey Rose might live in Bucharest together. Or travel the Continent. You needn’t stay in one place, lest your supposed ‘wife’ come searching. Who knows? If you don’t consummate it, perhaps she’ll beg for an annulment. It’s rare, but it has happened.”
Now it was my turn to go very still.
Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it. I watched a range of emotions play out across his features—he was too rattled to bother with masking them or adopting that cool exterior. Or maybe he didn’t choose to do so in front of me and his sister. We were the only two people in the entire world he could be himself around. He nibbled on his thumb.
“It’s not ideal by any means,” he said at last. “And I’d much prefer to gouge an eye out with a rusty spoon, but it might be the only way for us all to live as we choose. I’d gift you with the Bucharest house; you’d never permit Miss Whitehall to enter.”
“I’d be more than happy to uphold that bargain.”
Both Cresswell siblings looked at me, brows raised. I stared at each of them, taking careful pains to mind my tone. Their matching expressions of hope were going to be hard to break. I glanced at my ruined wedding dress. The smeared ink looked like dried blood and seemed to portend a promising future that died a violent death. “You’d have me as your mistress, then?”
Thomas blanched. “Not—n-not in my heart. You’ll forever remain—”
My look silenced him. Strange, considering I hadn’t meant it to. My tenuous grip on my emotions was slipping; I needed to try harder to replace my own mask.
“I’ll forever remain a blight in society. Not that I particularly care what others think, but what about my family?” I asked quietly. “What of my father? Or Uncle? And especially Liza? Will my stain of bedding a married man leach out and dirty her prospects? Should I condemn her to a life of scorn as well?” I shook my head sadly. “I might not care what the world whispers behind my back, but how could I forsake everyone I love?” I pushed myself off the bed, moving unsteadily toward him, pausing as he got to his feet, eyes glistening. I could see he knew I was right, though he loathed it. “The reason you have to marry Miss Whitehall is the very same reason I must decline your offer. No matter how much I wish not to. I cannot curse my family any more than you can curse yours. I am many things, but to be that selfish? It’s inconceivable.”
A tear slipped down his cheek. I reached up, brushing it away first with my hand, then with a kiss. He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair, my neck, his breath warm and ragged on my flesh. He whispered his deepest fear. “Do you not love me?”
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, trying to memorize how good his body felt so near mine. The coffee and sugar and cinnamon scent that was so Thomas. These were only a few of the things I’d miss terribly once they were gone. But they must be cut away, sliced like a tumor before it could grow. Though it killed me, I had to push him away. For both of our sakes. If not, we’d both travel down a path of hurting the ones we loved. I would not let him turn into a devil, no more than I’d allow my own darkness to take control.
“I will love you until the world stops spinning or my heart ceases to beat, Thomas Cresswell. Even then I’m not sure my love will ever be content to leave you. But I won’t ever share a bed with someone who belongs to another. No matter how much I long to. Please do not ask that of me.”
I heard the rustling of skirts—a reminder that Daciana was still present—and went to pull out of his embrace. Thomas held fast, unwilling to have this moment end.
“I’ll leave you two.” Daciana’s footsteps moved across the room, pausing. “If you need me, Audrey Rose, please don’t hesitate to find me. No matter what time.”
The soft click of the door indicated we were alone again. Together in our shared misery. Thomas’s tears dampened the collar of my robe, causing tiny goose bumps to rise with each of his unsteady exhalations.
His hand moved from my waist to my hair, knotting itself in a most pleasant manner. He kept it there, not quite pulling my head back, but his meaning was clear. He was asking for us to spend the night together, wrapped in a cocoon of covers and a tangle of limbs. He wished to pour our worries into kisses and caresses, pushing them away for tomorrow. Putting off the inevitable, when we’d have to say good-bye to our romance.
He was pretending no one had invaded our world and flipped it upside down. I wanted nothing more than to join him in his fantasy. To go to bed and wake up as if today had never happened. It would be so easy, returning to how we used to be. I curled my fingers around his collar, fighting what felt natural. It was hard to recall that only a few hours had passed since we’d laughed and kissed in this very bed. Back when our world was blissfully simple.
All I had to do was lift my chin and his lips would be on mine, claiming me as I’d claimed him. I wanted it. More than anything. I wanted to hold him and feel safe in our embrace—sheltered from the outside world and each invasion that threatened to wrest us apart. But it would only make our separation harder, and it was already unbearable. Because no matter how much I wished for it to be different, we must separate. The thought was enough to have me dig my fingers into his suit jacket. Imagining my world without his crooked smile and his sweet kisses… I buried my head against him.
We’d forever be bound—through our work and Uncle—and sharing any more of myself would tear my soul out. I wanted him, but I needed to take care of myself. I brought my palm to his chest, resting it against his heart for a few precious beats, imagining the tattoo there, then pushed myself away. I swallowed my own tears, relieved in a sense that I’d cried so hard earlier. It seemed I was finally empty now. Thomas made to reach for me again, his own tears only just beginning, but I stepped back, shaking my head.
It was the hardest, most treacherous act I’d ever been forced to commit. Though in truth I had not done this to him. That blame rested solely on his father.
“We must both be strong.” I stared at my feet, at the slippers he’d so lovingly had made. These new ones were pale blue with tiny white orchids. “I cannot bear it otherwise. I cannot—” I swallowed hard. “Please, Thomas. Please do not make this harder than it is. I fear I might collapse.”
Thomas stood for another moment, hands limp at his sides. I didn’t believe he knew what to do or where to go next, either. We’d fought for each other, had been through so much and had grown together, only to have our future snatched away in an instant by an enemy we hadn’t seen coming. He was eerily quiet. I dared a glance up, meeting his fierce expression. There was a look of battle in his gaze that startled me. I waited, breath held, for him to speak. To declare this was not how our love story ended.
He offered a jerk of his chin and walked stiffly to the door. I kept staring as he disappeared through it, his footsteps receding down the corridor
, and discovered I’d been wrong once again. I was capable of many more tears. One drop, followed by another, hit the tops of my satin slippers, staining them a deeper hue. I kicked them off and plunged under my covers, listening as my heart snapped in half.
On this day, one we were supposed to cherish for eternity, I wept on top of Jack the Ripper’s journals. I could not control my sorrow, and I cried until the sun rose, turning the sky a vicious, deep red. Once I’d exhausted myself, I fell unwillingly into a fitful sleep.
There, the devil waited, his lips pulled into a sneer. I’d once again fallen into my own personal Hell. This time I couldn’t tell what was worse—my dreams or my reality.
Saint Michael the Archangel: the fall of the dragon and the rebel angels defeated by St Michael
TWENTY-TWO
A QUEEN ARRIVES
GRANDMAMA’S DINING ROOM
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
7 FEBRUARY 1889
After much internal debate, I walked into the breakfast room, head held high, ready to face Thomas in the aftermath of our failed wedding—and almost tripped over my velvet skirts at the unexpected sight that met me there. I bit the inside of my cheek to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating. A shock of pain indicated I was indeed awake. I almost preferred to be conjuring up images again.
There, looking like a queen on her throne, sat Grandmama. And she did not appear pleased. My gaze traveled to the newspaper set before her, quickly scanning the headline.
OUR JACK THE RIPPER.
HE DISEMBOWELS A WOMAN
IN NEW-YORK.
————
He Leaves His Mark In the Shape of a
Cross Cut on the Spine—Police Mystified, but Working Hard.
“Grandmama.” I offered my most humble curtsy. I wished to run to her, fold myself into her arms, sit in her lap, and have her smooth each of my worries away. But she wouldn’t tolerate such acts. At least not in front of the others in the room. “What a wonderful surprise.”
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