She stared at me like she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around that complication. Though perhaps she was starting to see the same pattern emerge that I was. “But why wouldn’t he have confessed to—”

  “Your uncle and I believe it’s possible there might have been a second killer on board,” I said, laying it out with swift precision. Sometimes a clean cut was the kindest. “Passengers have already begun disembarking, so if Andreas didn’t commit that murder, then—”

  “Then we just delivered a Ripper-inspired murderer to America.”

  Her eyes grew wide as the realization clicked into place. Neither one of us spoke. I could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind, the fears. The memories regarding her brother that she was trying so hard to escape from. I’d spent the better part of the last few hours trying to find another potential scenario but had failed.

  In fact, the more I contemplated the murder scenes, the more I homed in on the details, it became startlingly clear that that was precisely what happened. I had little doubt that an American Ripper was stalking the streets of New York this very moment.

  “For now,” I said, “let’s hope we’re wrong and Andreas was simply feeling uncooperative.”

  Wadsworth broke out of her reverie and met my gaze. She knew it was a lie but didn’t press the issue. Perhaps we both wanted to stay lost in the world of pretend the Moonlight Carnival had brought into our lives. At least for now.

  “Was he the one who stole the fabric?” she asked. “Or was it an unrelated crime?”

  “He admitted to stealing it—apparently he’s a petty thief when he’s not murdering for revenge. It’s an old habit he brought with him from Bavaria. He used to steal clothes from people he’d tell fortunes to. One woman recognized a missing garment and reported it to police, which is why he left and joined the carnival.”

  “Speaking of that… what of the Moonlight Carnival?” She hesitated a moment. “How are Mephistopheles and Houdini?”

  “They both bid you farewell.” I was impressed by how smooth my voice sounded, though my heart was another matter. I kept my expression neutral as I inspected her for signs of disappointment. I personally believed Mephisto should be sent to the opposite end of the continent until he worked out his issues, but if she was upset by his absence… “Mephistopheles sends his apologies—and two tickets to their next show, free of charge.” Her grin was hard to decipher. “He and Houdini said we won’t want to miss what they’re working on, it’s going to be—”

  “Spectacular?” she supplied, that same sardonic look upon her face. I had no idea if she was covering up any sadness, or if she was truly all right with the ringmaster’s swift departure, but I laughed anyway.

  “For their sake, I hope so. They’ve got to find something to distract from the multiple murders committed by their famed fortune-teller. Though, knowing Mephisto, he’ll find a way to work with it. Infamy is a draw for most. We’re all fascinated by the macabre. Must be our dark, twisted human souls.”

  “I’m glad it’s over,” she said. “I sincerely hope the families are at peace.”

  I nodded, but she was lost to her private thoughts, leading me to wonder once more just how much she might have preferred to choose a different path for herself.

  “Liza!” She jerked forward, wincing, then slumped back, jolting me out of my worries. “Where is she? Is she all right? Please, please tell me she’s alive. I cannot bear it.”

  I motioned for her to lean forward and moved her pillows to better prop her up. I gently pushed her back, meeting no resistance from her as she lay against them. Some of the strain eased from the lines around her mouth. “She’s all right. Andreas drugged her and had her chained in his rooms. But she’s recovering. Much faster than you.”

  She released a breath, slumping further against the pillows. “I’m not worried about me.”

  Of course, she wasn’t. She never worried about herself. I counted to twenty. “But I am. There’s something else you should know… about your injury.” I would rather be raked over hot coals than deliver this news. I stared down at my useless hands. I’d been bound and unable to block that bloody knife. “You’ll be able to walk, though it’s possible you’ll have a permanent limp. There’s no way of determining how it will heal.”

  And I feared it would forever remind her of a terrible decision she’d made. A sudden, overwhelming bout of guilt rose in me. I choked it down. The air seemed to thicken. I went to pull at my collar, to ease the fear that kept raking its claws down my throat. Maybe she would forever associate my presence with her injury. Maybe the very sight of me was troubling. My life began and ended in the few heartbeats it took for her to respond. She smiled tentatively.

  “The price of love doesn’t come cheaply,” she said. “But the cost is worth it.”

  I shot up from my seat, unable to keep my emotions in check anymore, and let go of her hands. If I didn’t leave now, I’d only make this harder. Love should never, ever cost someone something. It should be a free exchange. What happened—she almost destroyed herself for me. I was not worth all that.

  “You ought to rest now.” I couldn’t meet her green-eyed inquisitive gaze, though I felt it on me like a physical blow. “Your uncle will be in soon to discuss travel arrangements. And I know Liza has been stomping around outside, too.”

  I moved swiftly across the room before I lost the nerve to do so.

  “Thomas…” she said, her voice soft, hurt. “What—”

  “Rest, Wadsworth. I’ll return again soon.” I grabbed my hat and overcoat, needing to be outside with the frigid wind clearing my thoughts. It took all of my collective will, but I managed to exit the room without turning back. She needed to be rid of me—I was like a slow-moving toxin, corrupting her slowly over time. Leaving was the most unselfish action I’d ever taken, and it felt miserable.

  Dragon knob

  Five

  FIRST CLASS PROMENADE

  RMS ETRURIA

  9 JANUARY 1889

  I gripped the railing, ignoring the bite from the near-freezing temperature of the metal, and concentrated on counting each passenger that disembarked. I’d gotten to fifty-two before stealing a glance at Audrey Rose. Her attention was stubbornly fixed on the crowd below, the muscle in her jaw as tense as her stance. I wanted to wrap her in my arms, to press myself against her, inhaling her floral scent and kissing her until she returned to me from that cold and distant place she’d retreated to. But I wanted her to choose her path—Mephisto or me—without interference.

  Even if it killed me.

  Her breath caught and my resolve to give her space broke. “I’ll be with you again soon enough, Wadsworth. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

  I held still, waiting for her to deny it. To call me foolish. To demand I stay. She didn’t. Instead, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “The fact remains I am needed here, in New York, as your uncle’s representative.” I inhaled deeply and forced myself to keep staring at the passengers. I needed to let go. “I will join you as soon as I can.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tear streak over her cheek.

  My resolve slipped.

  She angrily swiped it away, leaving me to guess her exact emotions.

  “Aren’t you supposed to say something like ‘I’ll miss you terribly, Wadsworth. These next few weeks shall be a slow sort of torture, I’m sure.’ Or some other Cresswell witticism?”

  The battle I’d been fighting ceased. I faced her, doing my best to keep my emotions in check. “Of course, I will miss you. It will feel like my heart is being surgically forced from my chest against my will.” I took another deep breath. “I’d rather be run through with every sword in Jian’s arsenal. But this is the best for the case.”

  If I repeated it often enough, I might soon believe it. The hopeful expression on her face vanished. I wasn’t sure if it was the imagery of a knife so soon after her injury or if mention of the case had annoyed her.

  “Then I wish you well, Mr. Cresswell.” Her voice was clipped. The sharpness sliced at my aching heart. “You’re right. Being upset is silly when we shall meet again soon.”

  I wanted to reach for her. To draw her into my arms and fight for her love. But to do that would go against everything I’d promised her before. I would not manipulate her in any way. A strange sensation coiled in my center, though, striking at my conscience. Something wasn’t sitting well about this—I couldn’t escape from the worry I’d missed a valid point.

  I hesitated, replaying the last few moments in my mind, trying to decipher each nuance of expression, each shift in tone. I had to be missing something—

  “Mr. Cresswell?” A detective politely cleared his throat, destroying the last of our time together. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d been close to figuring out an important point and hid my irritation. I tore my gaze from Audrey Rose and acknowledged him. “We’re taking the bodies ashore now. We require your presence en route to the hospital.”

  Part of me wanted to tell him to go on without me. I needed one more moment to sort this out. Except I wasn’t sure another moment would matter. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Wadsworth directly if she wished to pursue a courtship with Mephistopheles. And I didn’t think another sixty seconds would help me figure out the puzzle of her dark mood.

  The officer politely waited.

  I nodded, the movement feeling mechanical while my mind spun in other directions. “Of course,” I heard myself agree. “I’m at your disposal.”

  The detective smiled at Audrey Rose and disappeared through the door again. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I did not want to be confronted with the reality of our situation. I was in dangerous territory—one little hint of hurting her and I’d never be able to go through with leaving. I shut all emotion down, freezing that blazing heat at my core. I would not be the one who made this harder on her. She had every right to choose her own fate.

  And I had every right to close myself off and protect myself from hurt.

  “Farewell, Miss Wadsworth.” I felt my composure breaking along with my heart. “It has been an absolute pleasure. Until we meet again.”

  I needed to move quickly, but I couldn’t force myself into action. There was that overwhelming sense of wrongness, but I had no idea if it was the monster inside me, raging at losing this battle. I tipped my hat, desperate for stealing one more second, then commanded my legs to move. I don’t know what I hoped for—perhaps that she would cry out or curse me or block my path. That she’d tell me I was an idiot and then kiss me until we both regained our senses. I realized my hesitation was hope. Hope that she’d do any of those things. But she didn’t.

  I dared a final glance at her as I passed by. She nodded, lips pursed. There would be no sweeping declarations of love. She was letting me go. The reality crashed into me and I fought a curious uprising in my stomach. I moved forward again, pausing at the doorframe. My fingers tapped a familiar staccato rhythm. One, two, three, one, two, three. Selfishness. That was part of the beast taunting me now. I would not submit to that monster. Not for her, or anyone.

  I shoved myself into the corridor and rushed down the stairs, my pulse pounding in time to the sound of my shoes hitting the steps. If I ran fast enough, maybe I would discover a formula for escaping heartbreak.

  I made it as far as the docks before I realized what an idiot I was. Love was noble. But it was also a fighter. It didn’t give up and run away. It didn’t surrender to a pompous jackass in sequined suits with abysmal morals. I’d be the worst sort of partner if I didn’t fight back against someone like that. Telling Wadsworth how much I loved her wasn’t selfish at all. Quite the opposite. The officer waved a hand in front of my face. “The precinct is just down—”

  “I have an urgent matter to tend to,” I said, not at all sorry for cutting him off. “I’ll meet you at the morgue in two hours.”

  Instead of waiting for a response, I practically bolted around the block, moving as swiftly as the crowded streets permitted. Carriages rumbled over cobblestones, women in bonnets and men in smart suits strolled along. I quickly scanned the shops, recalling Lord Crenshaw mentioning a shop in this neighborhood that made something I needed. Three doors down, I found it. Raising Cane. An oddly biblical pun, but clever nonetheless.

  A bell tingled above as I pushed the door open. An old man as gnarled as the wood he was carving looked me up and down. “What can I do you for?”

  I glanced around the small room. Walking sticks with knobs fashioned into serpents, eagles, great beasts like lions and elephants—and a gorgeous ebony rose. I plucked it from the rack and made my way to the old man. “I need a custom cane as well. I’d like a dragon’s head knob. On rosewood, if you can secure it.”

  The man nodded and pulled out a tattered journal, tugging a pencil from behind his ear. “How tall are you?”

  I drew my brows together. “A little over one hundred and eighty-six centimeters.”

  He rolled his eyes. “In English, boy.”

  I didn’t bother pointing out I was giving him the English metric. I did a quick calculation. “Six feet, one inch. But the cane isn’t for me,” I added, lowering my hand to the precise height. “It’s for someone who’s around—” I mentally tallied the estimate “—five feet, five inches.”

  “Okay.” The man nodded. “Your woman?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to release a litany of reasons why that phrase was offensive, but sighed. “My partner. She was injured during a knife fight.”

  He seemed oddly impressed as he returned to his notepad. While he jotted notes, I walked around the room, inspecting the craftsmanship of his canes. They were all beautiful. He coughed and called me over. “What do you think of this?”

  He turned his pad around, showing off a quick sketch of his design. It was almost perfect. “Do you mind?” I asked, indicating the pencil. He shook his head and handed it over. I wound the body of the dragon around the top portion of the cane. Then I added two rubies where the eyes were located. My ode to my favorite dragon in our Romanian home—Henri. I sketched a stiletto blade at the opposite end, then turned the notepad back around. “Can you craft it so pushing the ruby eye will release a hidden blade?”

  He frowned a bit, considering. “Will she be getting into another knife fight?”

  I thought about it for a fraction of a second. “Anything is possible.” I grinned. “Can you do it?”

  “’Course I can, boy.” He seemed mildly insulted. “But Rome wasn’t built in day. Give me a week or two.”

  I paid for the rose-knob cane and left a deposit and an address for the delivery of the custom one. The rosewood was a tribute to my mother, the dragon a nod to my Dracula heritage. I hoped Audrey Rose wouldn’t mind carrying around a symbol of my household—because I was sincerely hoping she’d agree to become a member of it.

  My business complete, I left the shop and ran back to the Etruria, hoping I wasn’t too late to tell the girl I loved how much she meant to me.

  Six

  FIRST CLASS PROMENADE

  RMS ETRURIA

  9 JANUARY 1889

  “But what if he is leaving because of the accident?” Audrey Rose’s voice sounded so fragile. It took an enormous amount of effort to hold myself back as I stepped behind her. How she could ever fear that? I swallowed a lump in my throat and Liza finally noticed me over her cousin’s shoulder. Her eyes widened slightly. I held a finger to my lips, hoping she’d not reveal my presence yet. “What if he—”

  “Pardon me,” Liza said, nodding at the opposite end of the ship. “I think I see Mrs. Harvey waving all the way down there. I must go to her at once.”

  I smothered my laughter. Liza was many things, but an actress wasn’t her strongest talent.

  “Honestly?” Audrey Rose scrubbed her face, and, without seeing her expression, I could picture how irked she was. Part of me wanted to hug her and the other part wished to chuckle. At that exact moment, she turned, annoyance prominent in her features until her gaze found mine. She blinked, as if unsure I was real, then slowly shook her head at her cousin’s retreating form. A tear slipped down her face. Followed by another. Whatever quip I’d been about to dazzle her with abandoned me while I tried to puzzle out the source of her tears. It was hard to decipher if she was pleased or angry with my sudden arrival.

  “Cresswell.” Her chin jutted up and my wicked heart fluttered. “I thought you had business to attend to.”

  Her tone was laced with anger I hadn’t anticipated.

  “I did. You see, I happened to ask Lord Crenshaw where he had such a handsome walking stick made when your uncle and I conducted our final interview. Imagine my surprise when he said he’d purchased it here in New York. There’s a shop right up the block, actually.” The distance between us was unbearable. I took a step closer as I pointed to the street. “I believe this rose beats the one Mephistopheles tried to give you.”

  “I…” she drew her brows together, clearly stunned by my charm and wit. “What?”

  Perhaps not quite stunned yet. I threw the cane up and caught it with my opposite hand, gracefully falling to one knee as I offered her the gift and my apologies. I studied her carefully as she stared at the cane. She blinked two too many times and swallowed rapidly. She either loved it or I’d truly reminded her of her injury and made her upset. The air was suddenly too thick to breathe. I struggled to keep the fear from my face.

  “Thomas, it’s—”

  If she said she loathed it, I might toss myself overboard for being such a fool. “Almost as handsome as me?”

  Her laugh was warm and immediate, and the elated expression on her face soothed my nerves. “Indeed.”

 

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