“First things first,” Aunt Amelia said, clapping her hands and ignoring me altogether. “Time to get rid of those disgusting blood-soaked garments. Then we’ll address the matter of your hair.”

She scrunched her nose as if she were observing a rodent rummaging through rubbish. I cringed. My hair had been the last thing on my mind after finding a man dead.

“Honestly, Audrey Rose, you’re far too pretty and too old to be running around like a tomboy,” she said. “Bring your needle and thread down after your bath; it’s high time we worked on your hope chest.”

TWELVE

FAMILY TIES

WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,

BELGRAVE SQUARE

13 SEPTEMBER 1888

Nearly two hours and several dainty ahems of approval later, my aunt finally retired to bed, satisfied she’d sewn inappropriateness from me one stitch at a time.

It now didn’t seem to bother her I’d found a murdered man, so long as I’d created pretty violets and swirling vines to make up for breaking social taboos.

She’d also insisted on having my newest maid add a bit more “powder and polish” to my after-bath routine. When I’d argued that it was unnecessary, I could do fine on my own, she crossed herself and refilled her wine, instructing the maid to attend to my beauty needs each day from there on out.

I resisted the urge to wipe the excess kohl from my eyes, especially when Thomas kept tossing smug glances my way. I enjoyed applying makeup as any other girl my age would, only I did so with a lighter hand.

“Police say a gear was used to slash his throat open.” Thomas fidgeted in his seat in our drawing room. I refused to let him smoke in the house, and he was more twitchy than usual while filling me in on the investigation. He slid one of Uncle’s medical journals over to me, his fingers lingering a bit near mine before he fiddled with his own notebook.

“How on earth did someone do that much damage with a simple gear?” I asked, moving around in my own chair with discomfort.

It was strange having Thomas in my home without supervision, even though we’d spent time roaming London and Reading by ourselves and my aunt and cousin were only a few floors above us.

I figured once we started discussing the murder, things would become less awkward, but that was proving to be another falsehood.

“Turning something like that into a weapon isn’t hard.” He lifted his teacup but didn’t sip before setting it down again, his gaze snagging on mine. “It’s made of metal and has sharp ends. Any madman or drunk can manage killing someone with it. I, myself, have sharpened quite a few.”

I did not have the mental energy to ask why he had experience or need to sharpen gears. Letting that slide, I kept my focus on the case, drumming my fingers along the journal. “At the first two murders there were gears. It’s a bit too much of a coincidence to be unrelated to our own investigation. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Dear Wadsworth. Your association with me is growing more beneficial by the hour. Your intelligence is quite… attractive,” Thomas said, raising his brows suggestively and taking in my newly plaited hair. “Let’s have some wine and dance inappropriately. You’ve already dressed the part for me—let’s take advantage.”

He offered his hand, palm up, a wicked grin set upon his face.

“Thomas, please.” I batted his hand away, blushing furiously. Dancing with Thomas alone without a chaperone would be scandalous and was far too tempting. Plus it wouldn’t solve this mystery any faster, I reasoned. “Aunt Amelia would perish on the spot if she walked in on such… impropriety.”

“Hmm. Her untimely end would excuse you from any more embroidery lessons, would it not? Perhaps we should skip the dancing and passionately embrace instead.”

“Thomas,” I chided. I told myself the sooner we discovered who the murderer was, the sooner I’d be rid of Thomas Cresswell and his devious ways. We’d be kissing in back alleys before I knew it. Then my reputation would truly be in the gutter. I didn’t appreciate the twinge of disappointment I felt at the thought of not spending as much time with him.

“Very well, then.” Thomas leaned back, sighing. “I believe someone was spying on us in the shipyard. They must’ve overheard us talking about Mr. Dunlop. It’s the only logical conclusion that works. If we can identify him, I’m positive we’ll have found our murderer.”

“And if I had a crown I’d be queen,” I said, unable to stop myself. “Honestly, Thomas, how ridiculous a statement. If, if, if. We need something a bit more secure than a simple if, if we’re to stop a vicious murderer.”

The irony of my last statement was not lost on Thomas. A slow smile crept across his mouth as he leaned forward, our faces dangerously close. “If I purchased a crown, would you run round Buckingham Palace in nothing but your petticoats, demanding the guards let you through?”

“Be serious,” I admonished him, but not before laughing at the absurdity of the image. “Can you picture such a thing? I’d be thrown into the Tower and they’d have the key tossed in the Thames for good measure. Good riddance, indeed.”

“Fear not! I’d find ways of springing you from your tower prison, fair lady.”

I shook my head. “Wonderful. You’ll end up in the next cell, dooming us both.”

Thomas laughed heartily for a few beats, his gaze straying to my lips and staying there. I swallowed, suddenly remembering we were alone, and I couldn’t find one good reason why I shouldn’t kiss him. I was already trouble in society’s eyes. Might as well embrace my role and have a bit of adventure in the process. Cousin Liza would demand every last detail… a bit of gossip might be fun.

Checking my reaction, he slowly closed the distance between us, my pulse quickening as his expression shifted to a sweet unguardedness. Yes, I thought. This was right. I couldn’t think of a more perfect first kiss.

A clattering noise from the kitchen downstairs broke the spell. He abruptly sat straighter in his chair, flipping the notebook open with intense interest; the temperature in the room chilled at least twenty degrees.

I blinked at how quickly he shut himself off. I’d half a mind to have a fire made in here, not that it’d help his frigid demeanor.

Straightening my shoulders, I collected my thoughts. Well, then. I could be just as fickle as Thomas, if that’s how he wanted our association to be. We needn’t laugh or even be friends. In fact, I should never have warmed to him to begin with. I couldn’t believe how close I’d been to kissing him. Deplorable beast that he was.

Though, if I were truly being honest with myself, I would admit it was nice having an acquaintance as abnormal in society’s eyes as I was. Father hadn’t allowed friends into our home while we were growing up, what with influenzas and potential pox contaminations, so I’d never had a best friend before and missed out on those sorts of relationships.

Even with all Father’s efforts, disease still found its way into our home.

He hadn’t realized how difficult it would make things once I was old enough to accept my own invitations for tea. Now I needed my aunt and cousin to come in and make friends for me. I couldn’t be vexed with Father, though. He did the best he could, even when his best was detrimental.

“I’ll take that.” I snatched another journal from Thomas’s side of the table. It seemed he’d grabbed nearly all of Uncle’s journals before arriving here and was hoarding them along with his manners.

He didn’t bother lifting his head from his own work. Of all the… I set my jaw, and reread the same few sentences, forcing my brain to find a connection between the victims. Two prostitutes, Miss Smith, and a coachman-turned-sailor. Most of whom had a connection to Father, I realized with a start. The only person who couldn’t be traced to him was Miss Annie Chapman, and she’d been slain in the most brutal manner.

Everything pointed to the fact that Miss Chapman didn’t know her killer, but the others likely did. I swallowed hard, knowing there was something we needed to do immediately.

“Excuse me.” I stood, gathering my skirts like silent witnesses, and headed out the door without waiting for Thomas to stand. If he wanted to treat me so coolly, then I’d show him the same lack of respect. I needed no man to empower me. I had my father to thank for that much; his absence in most everyday things had prepared me well enough to stand on my own.

Walking swiftly down the hallway, I paused, listening to sounds of voices drifting up from ornate metal vents in the floor. Once I reached my father’s study, I halted to the sound of someone knocking at the front door. Drat. I crept back down the hall and slipped into the well-lit drawing room while the first footman greeted the caller.

Last thing I needed was to get caught rummaging through Father’s things, but suddenly recalling something Thornley mentioned had my mind spinning with new questions.

Thomas continued to pore over his notes. I paid him little attention, straining to hear who was calling on us at this hour. Footsteps approached, and I pretended to lose myself in reading. The first footman entered the room, waiting for my acknowledgment. I looked up, eyes innocent and wide. “Yes, Caine?”

“There’s a Mr. Alberts here to see you, Miss Audrey Rose. Says he works for your uncle and brings an urgent message. He apologizes for the late hour. Shall I send him away?”

I shook my head. “It’s not like Uncle to send someone over unless it’s important.” Especially if Father intercepted any correspondence he’d want to keep private.

Something must have happened. Perhaps he found a link to the crimes and couldn’t wait until morning, or maybe he’d discovered our murderer’s identity.

Anticipation raced through my core, erasing all else from my thoughts. “Send him in straightaway, please.”

The footman disappeared, emerging again with my uncle’s servant in tow. The man gripped a worn derby hat, nervously twisting the brim round and round, looking as if he’d just encountered something awful.