Hunting Prince Dracula (Stalking Jack the Ripper 2) - Page 97

I ran gloveless hands down the front of the shirt, smoothing away wrinkles as I shifted from side to side in the looking glass. My figure was shown in a way that meant there would be no mistaking me for one of my male classmates when we returned to Uncle’s lessons, no matter if I were dressed like one. Part of me wanted to blush at how much of my form was revealed in this ensemble. But mostly I felt like marching around with my head held high. There was a freedom in movement that I rarely experienced with all my layers and bindings.

With effort, I walked away from my reflection and lifted the leather belt from the box. I stepped one limb into it and secured its buckles against my thigh. I slid my scalpel into place and grinned. If I’d felt like blushing before, this was a whole new level of indecency to be toying with. I’d need to wear my apron to avoid whispers and stares. As of now I appeared to be—

“You’re stunning.”

I flipped around, hand straying to the cool metal of the scalpel sheathed against my thigh. I allowed my fingers to brush against the smooth blade before dropping my hand. “Sneaking into a young woman’s sleeping chambers twice in one month is rude even by your lax standards, Cresswell.”

“Even when I’m sneaking about my own home this time? And when I’ve brought a gift?”

He had a feline tilt to his smile as he laid a canvas against the door and stalked into the room, circling me. Unapologetically, he inspected each inch of my ensemble, then stepped close enough for me to feel the heat of his body.

Suddenly feeling shy, I nodded toward the back of the canvas. “May I see it?”

“Please.” Thomas swept his arm out. “Indulge your fancies.”

I walked over to the painting and turned it around, my breath catching at the sight. A single orchid glittered as if it had been encapsulated in ice. I bent closer, realizing that wasn’t correct at all. The orchid actually was a star-speckled sky. Thomas had painted the entire universe within the confines of my favorite flower. A memory of him offering me an orchid during the Ripper investigation crossed my mind.

I leaned the painting against the wall and flicked my gaze up. “How did you know?”

“I…” Thomas swallowed hard, his attention fixed on the painting. “The truth?”

“Please.”

“You’ve got a dress with orchid blossoms embroidered on it. Ribbons in the deepest purple. You favor the color, but not nearly as much as I find myself favoring you.” He took a deep breath. “As to the stars? Those are what I prefer. More than medical practices and deductions. The universe is vast. A mathematical equation even I have no hope of solving. For there are no limits to the stars; their numbers are infinite. Which is precisely why I measure my love for you by them. An amount too boundless to count.”

Slowly enough to make my heart race, he reached out and pulled a pin from my hair. A section of raven curls fell in a cascading layer down my back as the gold plunked to the floor.

“I am wholly bewitched, Wadsworth.” He plucked another pin, then another, releasing my hair entirely from its restraints. There was something intimate about him seeing me with my hair unbound in this private chamber. About his confession. Like a secret language only the two of us knew how to speak.

“Are you implying your feelings are the result of some sort of spell craft, then?” I teased.

“What I mean is… I cannot pretend I’m not… I suppose what I’m saying is it’s been a few months.” Thomas scratched his brow. “I was hoping to make things a bit more… official. In some capacity. Whichever way you prefer, actually.”

&nbs

p; “Official in what way?” My heart banged around the inside of my chest, searching for a crack to escape from. I could scarcely believe we were having such a conversation, especially while alone. Though I could also scarcely believe Thomas had practically said “I love you.” Which was what I needed to hear again. Just once without prodding.

“You know what way, Wadsworth. I refuse to believe you’ve misinterpreted my affections. I am wholly in love with you. And it is permanent.”

There it was. The admission I’d been craving. He nervously bit his lip, unsure even with all his powers of deductions if I could ever truly love him back. I wanted to remind him of our conversation—about how there was no formula for love—but found my pulse racing for an entirely different reason.

I was ready to accept Mr. Thomas Cresswell’s hand. And it terrified and thrilled me at once. He watched as I stood taller and thrust my chin up. If I was going to submit to my own feelings, I needed to be sure of one last thing.

“Will you only ask my father permission to court me?” I needed to know. “What of my feelings? I might fancy Nicolae. You’ve not asked me directly.”

Thomas unflinchingly held my gaze. “If that’s true, then tell me and I will never speak of this again. I would never force my presence upon you.”

I couldn’t help thinking of the detective inspector who’d worked the Ripper case with us. About his ulterior motives. “It’s quite a lovely thought. But for all I know, you’ve already spoken to my father and a date has been set. Something similar has happened before.”

“Blackburn was a fool. I believe you should always have a choice in the matter. I wouldn’t dream of excluding you from your own life.”

“Father would likely be… I’m not sure. He might not approve of such a modern approach. Your asking my permission before his. I thought you cared about his opinion.”

Thomas lifted his hand to my face, carefully stroking trails of fire across my jawline. “True, I want your father’s approval. But I want your permission. No one else’s. This can’t work any other way. You are not mine to take.” He brushed his lips against mine. Softly, so softly I might have imagined them there. My eyes fluttered shut. He could persuade me to build a steamship to the moon when he kissed me. We could orbit the stars together. “You are yours to give.”

I stepped into the circle of his arms and placed a palm against his chest, guiding him toward the tufted chair. He figured out too late that there was something bigger than a cat chasing him; he’d attracted the attention of a lioness. And he was now my prey.

“Then I choose you, Cresswell.”