Satisfied we were alone, Liza ushered me over to her dressing table, then pulled out a makeup kit far more complex than my postmortem tools. “So, what’s his name?”

She tugged a brush through my hair, pulling and twisting black strands with expert ease. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to show how uncomfortable I was with the harsh primping or topic. Surely if I could sit for Uncle in his laboratory, I could suffer through this. I immediately chided myself. Uncle was trapped in an asylum and I was only having my hair styled. I needed to keep perspective.

“Whose name?” I asked, steering my mind from unpleasant things. For some reason, Thomas was a secret I’d like to keep.

“Stop playing coy. The handsome boy who’s stolen your heart, that’s who!”

Liza stepped back, admiring her work before grabbing the kohl. I tried not to cringe. I’d already lined my eyes lightly and wasn’t keen on being made into something I was not. I’d delicately put a stop to my maid’s heavy-handed rouging.

“Tell me everything about him,” Liza said. “What he looks like. What color his eyes are. If he wants to run away with you to some beautifully exotic paradise… how many children you’re going to have. I hope he plays piano. All good men should be so well rounded. Oh! Tell me he’s deliciously smart and writes you romantic poetry. I bet he composes Shakespearean sonnets by moonlight with stars dancing in his eyes, doesn’t he?”

I cast my attention down, searching for a way out of the conversation, but my cousin gripped my chin, forcing me to look up while she lined my eyes. She quirked a brow, waiting for my response. Stubbornness was a trait she’d inherited from the Wadsworth side of the family.

I sighed. Wasn’t I looking forward to sharing this sort of gossip with my cousin a few days ago?

“His eyes are golden brown when he’s intrigued by something. He’s regal-looking and handsome, but he’s more interested in formulas and solving crimes than he is in me or poetry. He acts devilishly warm one moment, then frigid the next,” I said. “So there will be no children or any beautiful paradise in our future. Most of the time I cannot even tolerate his presence. His arrogance is… I don’t know. Annoying.”

“Silly. Arrogance usually hides something below the surface. It’s your duty to unearth it.” Liza dabbed my lips with her fingers, then shook her head. “It’s truly tragic.” She handed me a napkin. “Now blot.”

I mimicked her motion of blotting my lips with the napkin, taking careful pains to not smudge the color she’d stained my lips with. When I was done to her satisfaction, she nodded, then pointed to the looking glass on the vanity. “What’s tragic?”

She raised her brows. “You’re in love with him. And he’s most certainly in love with you. You’re just both being obtuse.”

“Trust me,” I said, facing the looking glass. “He’s the foolish one.”

“Well, we must show your foolish boy this girl, then. I’m sure you’d become an equation he’d desperately enjoy solving.” She tapped my nose. “Wield your assets like a blade, Cousin. No man has invented a corset for our brains. Let them think they rule the world. It’s a queen who sits on that throne. Never forget that. There’s no reason you can’t wear a simple frock to work, then don the finest gown and dance the night away. But only if it pleases you.”

I stared at Liza for a few beats, seeing her in an entirely new light. She nodded toward the looking glass again, somehow knowing I hadn’t truly seen myself before.

My reflection shone back, lit almost as if the heavens themselves were shining down on me. Dark strands of hair were piled atop my head, my eyes more mysterious somehow with the dark liner, and my lips were the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood. I was beautiful and dangerous at once. A rose with thorns.

I was precisely who I wanted to be.

“Oh.” I turned from side to side, admiring the full look. “It’s lovely, Liza. You must teach me how to do this.”

I thought of my mother and the saris she’d brought me to wear from Grandmama’s homeland. I felt just as stunning now as I did then, and the memory warmed me.

Mother used to dress us up and hire a cook to make savory delicacies for us every month, hoping to keep the traditions of India alive in us. Father happily participated in our worldly dinners, eating raita and fried breads with his hands.

We’d drag Nathaniel in for our feasts, but he was always unimpressed by eating without silverware. He’d say, “I cannot tolerate being so messy,” then storm out in his little suit. How I missed those simpler days.

Liza ran her gaze over my ensemble, then immediately rummaged through her trunk, tossing dresses and corsets and fabrics over her head until she settled on one.

“What’s wrong with my dress?” I asked, touching the rose embroidery on the skirts. “I just had this one made.” And it was quite beautiful.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, silly,” Liza said. “But I’d love to see you in my tea gown. Ah. Here it is.”

A cream lace gown with pale pink underskirts was promptly thrown over my head and tied in the back before I even knew what was happening. Liza wiped her hands off in a gesture of finality. Pleased with her efforts. “There. You’re darling. I always wished my hair was as dark as yours. Makes the green of your eyes nearly emerald.”

I stood there, staring at my image. It seemed a horrid contradiction to the reality of the world and what was going on in it. Here I was, playing dress-up while Uncle was in the asylum and a murderer was butchering innocent women.

Liza was at my side steadying me before I collapsed onto the divan.

“I know,” she nodded sagely, misinterpreting my thoughts, “it’s a gorgeous gown. You must keep it. Come. It’s time to greet our guests. I’ve heard Victoria and her sister Regina are coming. Their father does something with Parliament and I’ve heard the most interesting rumors…”

It felt as if I were watching through someone else’s eyes the events unfolding before me.

Aunt Amelia sat at the head of the table, a queen holding court during her royale tea. Liza sat on my right while the esteemed Victoria Edwards sat on my left, her button nose turned permanently upward.

A royale tea was different from high tea in that it began with a glass of champagne and did not include supper. That much I remembered. Sandwiches, savories, scones, and sweets were laid out across the table, more riches and delicacies than all of Nathaniel’s favorite imported cheeses and fine foods combined.

Uncle’s arrest was responsible for my nerves, making me forgetful. It had been only a few months since I’d last attended such a formal tea. And though I didn’t care for them, I wasn’t normally so distracted.

I stirred my tea then set my spoon behind my cup, as was proper.

Victoria turned to me, a slight smile fixed to her face. “I’m so sorry to learn of your uncle, Audrey Rose. Must be quite difficult having such a ruthless criminal in the family.”

I’d just taken a bite of a cucumber sandwich and barely swallowed my surprise down. Liza jumped in, rescuing me with her quick tongue.

“Such a shame. If they can accuse someone as brilliant as our uncle, surely they can accuse just about anyone. Perhaps”—she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper—“they’ll set their sights on members of Parliament next. It’d make for a rather sensational story, wouldn’t you agree?”

Up until that last point Aunt Amelia had been smiling and nodding, proud of her daughter’s appropriate response. When Liza flashed a grin my way, my aunt’s face turned a furious shade of red. She straightened, then dabbed at her mouth with a lace napkin we’d undoubtedly stitched.

“Now, girls”—she glanced between us—“let’s not allow our imaginations to get away from us. We shouldn’t gossip or speculate on such matters. It isn’t polite.”

“But it’s true, Mama,” Liza insisted, garnering curious gazes from around the table. “Some royals are under suspicion. It’s all everyone in London’s talking about.”

Aunt Amelia looked as if she’d swallowed an egg whole. After a moment, she threw her head back and laughed, a sound more forced than her thin smile. “See? This is precisely why speaking of such things is a waste of time and energy. No royal would truly be under suspicion. Now, who’d like more tea?”

Victoria, displeased by the turn in conversation, faced me a second time. “You look rather pretty this afternoon, Audrey Rose. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure what we’d been invited to. Given all the rumors swirling around about your association with that strange assistant of your uncle’s. What’s his name? Mr. Cresswell?”

Another girl, whose name I thought was Hazel, nodded. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard about him from my brother. Says he’s got as much feeling as an automaton.” She smiled wickedly. “Though I’ve heard he’s quite good looking. And his family does have a title. He can’t be all bad.”

“Mr. William Bradley told me he’s got his own flat on Piccadilly Street,” Regina added, looking pleased to involve herself in the conversation. “Honestly, what kind of parents allow their son to live on his own before he’s come of age? I don’t care how rich they are, it isn’t proper.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised to discover he’s killed those… women… and hid their bodies away. Maybe Liza’s right. Maybe Dr. Wadsworth is innocent and it’s Mr. Cresswell who’s truly the madman. I bet he’s got a slew of unsavory women coming and going there. He might be heir to a good fortune, but who’d marry such an odd fellow? He’d probably murder his own wife.”

“Be serious,” I said before I could stop myself. “Because he’s interested in science hardly makes him a murderer or automaton. In fact, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Thomas. I find him to be quite agreeable.”