“I’m quite certain he—”

“He was yet another unfortunate victim, though I know many would find that hard to believe.”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to argue when he was clearly in denial. I knew the feeling all too well and wouldn’t steal his stubborn peace from him, misplaced though it might be.

Whether Uncle wanted to confront his own truth or not, the fact remained: Nathaniel knew more about Jack the Ripper than any of us.

FOURTEEN

COURTING A CRESSWELL

AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

5 FEBRUARY 1889

“Have you decided how you’re wearing your hair tomorrow?” Daciana asked, poking her own updo in the looking glass. “If you style it like this, you can show off that striking neckline of yours.”

“Or you might keep it loose and not give a care about what others think,” Ileana added, her Romanian accent as lovely as ever. She gave Daciana a pointed look as she combed through her own locks. “Your veil will cover it up anyway.”

“Yes, but after the ceremony she’ll be strutting around without all that fabric nonsense.” Daciana added a flower to her hair. “Perhaps our friend here might prefer to have her hair up and out of the way for post-wedding activities.”

She waggled her brows suggestively and, without even glancing over my shoulder, I was quite certain Aunt Amelia was about to fall over, crossing herself furiously on the way down.

“Miss Cresswell!” My aunt snatched a fan off the dresser, frantically waving it before her reddening face. A vein in her forehead throbbed in the most troublesome manner. “Language, please.”

“Apologies, Lady Clarence. Miss Cresswell is fond of the truth.” Ileana heaved a sigh, almost coaxing a smile to my lips despite my best efforts. She alone knew what it was like to court a Cresswell and live to tell the indecent tale of it.

“They’ll be married soon enough,” Daciana said. “I imagine they’ll do more than hold hands in bed. The way they stare at each other when they think no one is looking could impregnate her on the spot. Now, that’s downright indecent, especially over the soup course.”

The entire room seemed to suck in a breath at once. Daciana lifted a shoulder and went back to inspecting her own hair as if she’d not hinted at such private matters and nearly caused an embolism in my aunt. Mentioning anything close to pregnancy or the science behind how such a thing happens was simply not done in polite company.

Ileana rolled her eyes skyward, as if silently communicating that teaching subtlety to a Cresswell was a lost cause.

“Here. This will be perfect.” Liza had opened a fashion magazine, pointing out an illustration of a complicated hairstyle to distract everyone. “See how loose waves fall naturally over her shoulder, yet the top half is braided into a coronet? It’s so decorative and fun. I’m certain we can weave orange blossoms in your braids and then set jewels into it, too. You’ll look like you’re wearing a crown made of flowers and precious stones.”

I inspected the hairstyle, biting my lip. It might be deemed high fashion, but it reminded me of a rather messy sparrow’s nest. All that was missing were some twigs and dried leaves. I said a silent prayer of thanks the wedding hadn’t been scheduled for the fall, else I might’ve ended up with those very embellishments stuck into my hair. Thomas would fall off the altar from laughing so hard. Which might almost be worth it.

Realizing Liza was waiting on a response, I stumbled over the best compliment I could offer. “It’s very… interesting.”

Daciana and Ileana snorted, but a swift glare from my cousin had each of them holding their hands against their mouths, doing a terrible job stifling their giggles. I flashed them my most pleading look; all of the plucking and primping was beginning to set my teeth on edge.

“If you’ll excuse us.” Daciana gracefully hopped to her feet. “I’m going to check on my brother, then retire for the evening.” She took both of my hands in hers and kissed my cheeks. “Good night, Audrey Rose. Sleep well. Tomorrow we shall officially become sisters! I cannot express how happy I am to have you as part of my family. I’m not sure if Thomas or I am more thrilled!”

Ileana sighed at Daciana’s “Cresswell” theatrics and hugged me good night. “We’ll see you in the morning. Try to sleep soundly. Your wedding will be unforgettable, I promise.”

I took a steadying breath. “You think so?”

She nodded. “You’re simply walking to Thomas in a beautiful gown, sharing vows, eating some cake, then beginning a new chapter of your lives. Together. Everything will be wonderful, you’ll see.”

“Thank you.” I clutched her close.

Once they’d left, Liza tapped the image in the magazine again. “Well?”

I swallowed hard, hoping my expression didn’t betray my growing horror. “Perhaps keeping the hair simple might be best. The dress is already so decorative—with all that beading and embroidery—and the diamond tiara is another bold statement…” I trailed off, noticing how both my aunt and cousin seemed to be mentally crossing themselves at my lack of vision. “You’re right. Let’s set the hair and we’ll see how the waves look in the morning before we decide.”

With that crisis settled, my cousin ushered me onto the velvet bench in front of the vanity and got to work twisting and pinning small sections of my hair into place. I tried not to wince as she inadvertently yanked some strands out with her overzealous twists.

“You mustn’t squint so much,” Aunt Amelia scolded, leaning over and pinching color into my cheeks until I was certain each of my blood vessels had popped and I might, in fact, internally bleed to death before sunrise. “You’ll cause wrinkles and will look like an overcooked goose before you’re twenty. Do you wish to have a husband who no longer desires you so soon?”

I inhaled and allowed myself the mental count of three before responding.

“Because he’ll desire a Christmas goose instead?” I raised my brows. “They do say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Liza coughed a laugh away, abruptly returning to my trunk to rummage through my things. I took another deep breath and counted until I felt the next retort dissolve on my tongue. I highly doubted anyone was having such a discussion with Thomas the evening before our wedding. Men prided themselves on aging. They might lose their hair and expand their bellies and still be deemed a wondrous catch, marrying twenty years their junior. Yet heaven forbid a young lady grow into old age and be proud of the lines on her face; the very lines that told a story of a life well lived. The nerve of us to live happily and without apology. I scowled at my reflection.

“Sit up straight.” Aunt Amelia gently swatted my backside with the fan. “Your posture is all wrong. If you slump tomorrow, your tiara will tumble right off that smart head of yours. You want to appear pleasing to your bridegroom, don’t you? I cannot—”

“What Mother is attempting to say is she loves you and is only fussing because she’s worried something will go wrong and you won’t have a marvelous day. Isn’t that right, Mother?” Without waiting for a response, Liza handed me a box with a big red ribbon. I held it up, curious. Judging by its weight, it felt like some sort of garment. “It’s a little something I saw in the fashion district. It’s for your wedding night, but you might want to try it on to make sure it suits you before then.” I went to untie the ribbon but she placed her hand on mine, stopping me. “Open it later.”

Pretending as if she didn’t hear that last instruction, Aunt Amelia went about tying my hair up in small sections and securing it with pins with swift efficiency, though I could have sworn I saw the slightest bit of wetness on her lashes before she blinked it away. I reached up as she placed the last pin and clutched her hand in mine.

“Thank you, Aunt,” I said, meaning it. “Tomorrow will be perfect.”

FIFTEEN

YOURS TO GIVE

AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

5 FEBRUARY 1889

Once Aunt Amelia and Liza retired to their chambers, I sat in front of the vanity, adjusting the hundreds of pins they’d stuck in my hair for the sake of fashion, wondering if the end result of soft, “natural” waves would be worth the discomfort of sleeping on them tonight. Without a doubt, it was not. Much of the wedding felt as if it were now a spectacle, like Mephistopheles and his crew had taken over its design and created another revel for the Moonlight Carnival.

While I couldn’t deny the extravagant hothouse flowers and the princess dress were quite lovely, I wished to walk down the aisle as myself. I simply wanted to be with Thomas, and that didn’t require pomp and circumstance. I’d be content saying my vows without an audience present, though I knew my family and loved ones had worked hard to make the day special for us, and I wanted to share in their celebration and good cheer. With limits.

I began taking the hairpins out, watching sections of my dark hair uncoil like ebony rope, falling against my collarbone. It was much better to enjoy my sleep and feel well rested for tomorrow rather than suffer and pretend to be cheerful in the morning.

“Appear pleasing to my bridegroom, indeed.” I shook my head. Aunt Amelia didn’t understand Mr. Thomas Cresswell at all. I snorted at the very thought of him requiring me to behave or look a certain way in order to be pleased.

Thomas wouldn’t mind if I showed up to the church in my laboratory apron, sawdust clinging to my hems, scalpel in hand. In fact, the rogue might prefer it. He truly loved me for me.

There was none of that “he loved me in spite of” nonsense. Thomas saw who I was—flaws and all—and I was more than enough for him, as he was for me. We needn’t complete each other; we complemented each other. He and I were whole on our own, which made us so much stronger when combined than two symbolic halves coming together to create one. Our bond had double the strength. Nothing could tear it apart. And after tomorrow, nothing would.