“While it’s quite intriguing being holed up in a dark, deserted alleyway with you, arguing about facts,” he said, “I have better uses of my time.” He paused, taking in my hurt expression. “Allow me to amend that statement. We have better uses of our time. However, if you prefer we can stay here. I enjoy loitering in darkened places with you fine enough.” I couldn’t help smiling. He was devilish. “Now then, are you coming? This one’s nice and fresh.”

He rubbed his hands together, hardly able to contain his dark glee. If I were a good girl I’d go home and pretend I had no inkling of what Thomas was up to. I’d climb into my bed and attend breakfast with my aunt and cousin. We’d discuss the circus and plan another tea while stitching seams and napkins for our future husbands. But I wasn’t like my cousin or aunt. I was not wicked, simply curious.

I wanted to study the body as much as Thomas did, even if the acts of human dissection and going home with a boy damned me to a wretched death in society.

Half an hour later we were outside his flat, paying the man who’d delivered the cadaver. He glared at me before pocketing the money. His eyes were two black holes, void of human emotion. It took my entire concentration, but I managed to hold in my shudder. Thomas motioned me inside, then shut the door. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a simple foyer and a staircase leading to a flat upstairs wasn’t it.

“Cozy,” I said. A small table was set with a tray of biscuits that smelled as if they’d been freshly baked and laid out within the hour.

Thomas nodded toward the food. “Help yourself. Mrs. Harvey can be quite insufferable when her treats get stale overnight.”

I wasn’t hungry, but didn’t want to offend this mysterious biscuit-making woman he kept hidden God only knew where.

We reached the door to his flat and Thomas hesitated only slightly before pushing it open. Inside, papers and journals were scattered about in haphazard piles, towering three feet high. Taxidermy animals lined the shelves around the room, and scientific tools were lying about in disarray.

A strong scent of laboratory chemicals lingered in the air. In the far corner stood a portable table with the fresh cadaver on it.

I was momentarily speechless. Not because of the body, but because of the room itself. How Thomas found anything in this mess was another mystery to figure out. I was getting used to expecting the unexpected when it came to him, but this still managed to pry a bit of shock from me. His person was so neat and clean, and this… this was not.

“Where are your parents?” I asked, noticing a photograph of a pretty dark-haired girl on a shelf. A fist clenched in my chest. Was Thomas promised to someone else? His family was titled and an early betrothal wasn’t out of the ordinary. I didn’t care for that thought one bit. I motioned toward the picture. “She’s lovely.”

He turned his back on me and walked toward it.

“She is quite lovely,” he said, picking up the photograph. “Enchanting, really. Those eyes, and perfectly proportioned features. Comes from a magnificent family, too.” He sighed happily. “I love her with all my heart.”

He was in love. How exceptionally wonderful for him. I wished them both a lifetime of misery with ill-mannered children. I swallowed my annoyance down and plastered on a smile. “I hope you’ll both be very happy together.”

Thomas whipped his head around. “Pardon? You…” He studied the set of my jaw and forced indifference of my features. The scoundrel had the audacity to laugh. “She’s lovely because she’s my sister, Audrey Rose. I’m referring to the superior genes we have in common. My heart belongs only to you.”

I blinked. “You have a sister?”

“I assume you haven’t come here to ask questions about my personal life, or tell me about the circus you attended with your brother this evening.” He glanced in my direction, his grin spreading. “Much to my dismay you’ve not come here for a clandestine tryst, either.”

“How did you know about the cir—”

He cocked his head, taking in the rest of my attire. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what you learned at the asylum, though…”

I rounded on him. “How do you know I’ve been to an asylum?”

“The sawdust caught in the folds of your skirts didn’t come from time spent at the Olympia. There aren’t many places in London a girl would come into contact with said material. I couldn’t picture you spending time in a carpentry shop, low-end pub, or morgue this late, so where does that leave us?” he asked without expecting an answer, ticking off each place on his fingers.

“Laboratories, workhouses, and asylums. Narrowing that down further, I saw rust stains on the palms of your hands. Most likely you’d encountered old bars. Then there’s the matter of your torn skirt, and the little package you’ve tucked away.” He raised his brows. “It’s all right to act impressed. I know I would be.”

“Oh, get on with it already.”

“Anyway, it didn’t take much to conclude you’ve been to the asylum and have shown up here to discuss your findings,” he said. “Another rather obvious conclusion as I assume you were visiting your uncle.”

“Show-off,” I said, subtly rubbing my palms down my skirt, a memory of hanging on to the bars crossing my mind. I hadn’t even realized my hands were stained from such a brief contact. It took every last ounce of energy to prevent myself from rolling my eyes at the smug look on his face.

I offered a slow clap. “Well played, Thomas. You figured out the obvious. Good for you. Now, then, we need to figure out what Uncle was drugged with. If it’s standard asylum tonic, or something more sinister.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “How was he acting?”

I filled Thomas in on the evening’s events while pulling out my makeshift satchel of the porridge and testing its contents. “It was as if he were lost in some trance.”

Thomas watched as I smeared the substance on litmus paper. “The dropper is in the top drawer under a stack of papers on the left.”

I followed his instructions and found it easily. I put a drop of liquid onto the paper and watched it turn deep blue. “It’s definitely an opiate of some sort.”

“They’re probably giving it to him in near pure form,” he said, pacing in front of the desk. “If they’re really moving his trial so quickly, they’ll want him as mad-looking as possible. Most elixirs cause hallucinations, which explains his state. Unfortunately, that’s not all that uncommon. Could be standard pretrial procedure.”

He stopped only long enough to glance at me. “You’re positive Blackburn can be trusted? What do you know of him?”

I knew the policeman from only a few unpleasant encounters and wasn’t positive about anything. “I think he feels guilty Uncle’s in this mess. And I believe he’s trying to make up for arresting him by involving me in the case.”

“Feeling guilt does not make for a solid basis of trust. If anything, it makes me trust him less.” He narrowed his eyes, stalking over to me. “Why has he shown such an interest in your family? If you weren’t so taken with him, you’d be more skeptical of his motives. A lot can be hidden beneath a boyish grin.”

“I am not taken with anyone.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to one another,” he said quietly, then turned away before I could read the expression on his face. “Someone’s keen on having your uncle swing for these crimes, Audrey Rose. Let’s assume the worst about Blackburn. Everyone must remain a suspect until proven otherwise.”

“Should I be wary of even you, Mr. Cresswell?”

Thomas stood before me, all traces of humor gone from his expression. “Yes. It would behoove you to stay on alert at all times. Even with respect to those closest to you.”

And I thought I was an alarmist. Thomas walked over to a cabinet, pulling two white aprons from within.

I pushed the chemistry set aside, thinking wretched things. “If there’s another murder between now and the thirtieth they’ll have to set him free. Won’t they?” I picked at a thread on my bodice, not wanting to look up. “I mean, surely they wouldn’t try him for these crimes if another one occurred while he was in the asylum.”

Thomas’s attention snagged onto mine. “Are you suggesting we stage a murder, Wadsworth? Are you planning on doing the slashing, or should I handle that part?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I only mean there’s always a possibility another body will turn up. I can’t believe our murderer will simply give up and quietly fade into the night. You’ve said so yourself.”

Thomas considered this for a few moments. “I suppose. But if we’re betting on that theory, then it’s also possible I’ll invent a sky-traveling steamship before the week’s out.”

“Are you even trying to build a flying steamship?”

“Absolutely not,” he said with an impish grin, grabbing a scalpel from the examination table and handing it to me along with an apron. “You said it yourself, anything’s possible.” He nodded toward the subject. “Let’s get on with this. We’ve got to return the body by dawn and I’d like to harvest the gallbladder first.”

Without hesitation, I split the skin wide with my blade, earning an appreciative whistle from Thomas.

NINETEEN

DEAR BOSS

CENTRAL NEWS AGENCY,

LONDON

27 SEPTEMBER 1888

The sound of typewriters clicking away to the beat of a hundred fingers greeted Thomas and me as we followed Superintendent Blackburn into the busy news agency. Most all of their stories were “sensationalized lies and slander charges waiting to happen,” according to my brother. I didn’t disagree.

Blackburn had found me locked away in Uncle’s laboratory, poring over murder details and evidence being used against Uncle, and insisted I see the latest horror for myself.