The Secrets of Mia Danvers (21 page)

She sat casually in a large red and green upholstered chair, one leg tucked under her and the other dangling, no shoe upon her foot. Her stocking-clad toes wiggled as she read and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. He wasn’t close enough to see the title of the book, but clearly she found the contents delightful.

His heart tightened and he reminded himself why he was here. He had a woman to seduce. A woman who, once upon a time, had nearly destroyed him. The fact that he still found her lovely had no merit on the situation. He took a step forward and the wood floor creaked beneath his weight.

She sat upright, both feet meeting together on the floor and slipping into her shoes. “Edward!” she said with surprise. She came to her feet.

“Rachel. I hadn’t expected to find you here,” he lied.

“His Grace is out for the evening,” she said. She clutched the book to her chest and it was then that he could see the title.
Pride and Prejudice
by Jane Austen.

“I thought to peruse his library while I waited. You remember how I enjoy a good book.” He closed the doors behind him and walked casually toward her. Because the tenderness toward her had not died completely as he’d hoped, he knew he’d need to move quickly, else this end badly for him. “But I see there are other ways for me to bide my time.”

She clutched the book even tighter. “I believe I’ll take this to my room for further reading,” she said, but made no attempt to actually walk away.

“I see your ankle is doing better,” he said.

“Yes, only a slight limp now,” she said.

Edward moved in close, near enough to feel Rachel shiver at his proximity. “Have you thought of me these past twelve years?” he asked. “Thought of my kisses?”

She swallowed and angled her chin up. “Whether I have or not doesn’t seem to matter,” she said tartly. “I know you well enough to know you shall believe what you want regardless of the truth.”

He chuckled. “I’ve never known anyone better than you at deflection.” He trailed one finger down her arm and her breath caught. “I’ve thought of you.” He let his finger make lazy circles on her hand before he slipped the book from her and dumped it on the chair.

“I do not wish to know this,” she said. But she was trapped. He was close enough to her now that the backs of her knees brushed against the chair behind her.

“In all these years, I’ve never forgotten the precise shade of your eyes, or how the gold around them deepens when you get angry.” He met her gaze. “As they are now. Nor have I forgotten the perfect bow of your lips, or how soft they are and how perfectly they mold to mine. Damnation, Rachel,” he forked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve tried my hardest to forget everything about you, but like some damned specter, you haunt me. And I still want you.” He looped one arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “I still bloody want you.”

With that, he dropped his lips to hers in a kiss meant to punish. Instead he found it only whet his seemingly unending desire for her. She didn’t pull away but allowed him to kiss her. Kissing her now was as it had been before, only better because she was a fully grown woman, not the girl he’d once loved. Now her curves were fuller and as she pressed up against him, he could think of nothing but making love to her, very slowly and quite thoroughly, on the plush rug in front of that fire.

Her hand slid up his arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her fingers worked into the back of his hair and he knew, for better or worse, he’d never want another woman the way he wanted her.

He continued kissing her while he unfastened her dress, then deftly removed the rest of her clothing. Their lovemaking happened in a frenzied haze of desire, he couldn’t take her fast enough lest she change her mind, come to her senses and run from him. She felt like home, like heaven, like bliss. And he knew no matter how many women he brought to his bed, it had always, would always be Rachel.

And then he felt the cold sting of her hand as she slapped him.

“I am the greatest of fools,” she said. She quickly gathered her clothes, tossed her dress over her head. “But you,” she shook her head. “I should request that in the future you keep your hands off my person.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The Ripper stood in the darkness, shrouded by the line of shrubs that defined the yards between Mia’s cottage and the Duke’s estate. He crept closer to the larger house, trying to see what light was on in the gardens. Someone was out there, but he couldn’t yet see who it was.

Closer and closer he moved until he stood on Danbridge property. He could see her now. Was that Mia?

The woman sat at a table, light surrounding her as she worked on something. A sculpture. She was working on a bust, perhaps similar to the one he’d stolen. The one that he kept in a special place in his apartments. He glanced at the stone woman every night wondering who she was. And now it seemed he had found her.

This must be Mia and the bust he had taken had been a self-portrait. Even the long braid down her back was the same. Though her features now were not relaxed and frozen, but alive. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes stared intently at the clay in her hand and her lips quirked as her hands moved effortlessly over her art.

“Lord Fairbanks, is that you?” he heard her say. His heart ticked up a beat at the thought of her seeing him, catching him here spying on her. He’d be able to spin a story that would convince her he was lost. Stay hidden in the darkness enough to prevent her from seeing him and recognizing him as the Ripper.

But a man had joined her in the gardens and it was to him that she had spoken. The man responded, but the Ripper paid him no mind. She smiled and her features transfixed into something quite lovely, though she was woefully thin. His little witness.

He would cut her someday. From throat to toe, he would gut her, perhaps skin her. But for now he had to wait, bide his time. He could watch her a little longer, but he kept himself hidden and didn’t dare step any closer now that she had male companionship. But now he knew what she looked like.

Mia Danvers.

She would be his.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mia sat hidden in the darkness of the carriage waiting for Alex to step inside. When the door finally opened, she heard him giving last-minute instructions to the driver before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Mia!” he said. “What the devil are you doing here?” he asked as the carriage rolled down the driveway and onto the London street.

“I knew you wouldn’t allow me to accompany you if I asked, so I decided not to ask,” she said simply.

“But how did you get in here unseen?”

“Rachel, she’s a wonderful accomplice. She distracted the driver whilst I climbed inside.” She heard him take a deep breath. “Before you say anything,” she said. “I do not intend to leave the carriage. I shall be safely hidden inside while you do all the investigative work. I merely wanted to be of assistance should you need me.”

He was quiet for several moments before he spoke again. In that time the carriage continued to rattle on the road, the clap-clap of the horse’s hooves and the turn of the wheels made a rhythmic noise.

“I suppose it would be more of a disruption were I to bring you back to the house now.” There was a rustling of paper and then he said, “I have already ruled out two of the five people on the list. Obviously our Queen is not Jack the Ripper. And there is an old man who buys that tobacco, but he must be seventy years of age and rather weak.”

“Though it is rather odd that our monarch would still purchase that tobacco all these years after her husband’s death,” Mia said.

“True. Perhaps she smoked with him and simply does not do so in public settings.”

“That would be quite scandalous, would it not?”

“Indeed it would. So today I am trying one bloke I’ve tried to find in three different locations and then two other names on the list,” Alex said.

“The man you can’t locate, who is he?”

“Shane McKinnon, I believe he’s Irish. I’ve had three different addresses, as well as three variations of his name,” Alex said.

“Have you told Inspector Jacobs about him?” Mia asked.

“I wrote up some notes to share with him, but I don’t have enough information as of yet.”

Again silence settled around them. In truth, they hadn’t spoken much since he’d carried her out of his room a few nights before. What was there to say? “I haven’t thanked you,” she said. “For setting up an area where I can sculpt.”

“I suspected you might be missing that being away from your cottage.”

Their first stop was yet another attempt to locate the elusive Mr. McKinnon. Mia waited quietly in the carriage while Alex got out and looked around. She could hear his voice off in the distance talking to someone, but could not make out any of the words. Several moments later he returned.

“And?” she asked.

“Nothing. The housekeeper of this establishment knew who I was referring to, but evidently he’s been gone for nearly three weeks. She thinks he might have gone to America, said she overheard him speaking about a ship.”

“Gone three weeks certainly takes him out of the timeline for these murders,” Mia said.

“Yes, but the tobacco shopkeep mentioned he picked up his own orders and usually came in once a week.”

“So he could still be in London?” she asked.

“He could.”

She considered for a moment, allowed her mind to go back to those terrifying moments she hid in the bushes. “He didn’t sound Irish,” she said. “When he spoke to Sally. He sounded English, very much English, actually, cultured and educated by the cadence of his speech, though his vulgar language certainly did not speak of either.”

“He could easily have disguised his accent,” Alex offered.

“Doesn’t explain how he’s managed to get into so many social engagements. Unless he’s a servant,” she added.

“We have a couple more stops,” Alex said.

They made their stops and it was more of the same. They’d gain some information that seemed to rule out the people, but nothing was ever certain. Their last stop had ended up being the residence of a woman who had a penchant for cigars. She had been rather embarrassed at being discovered with such a masculine habit, but Alex had said she’d cooperated with his questions.

“What do we do now?” Mia asked as they began their travel back to Danbridge house.

“I’ll write up my notes on the people and then give it to Simon in hopes that he’ll be able to find use of it.”

“But we’re not any closer than we were to identifying the killer,” she said.

“Or to proving my brother is innocent.”

***

Alex stood still and allowed his valet to finish tying his cravat. After the futile afternoon he and Mia had had with the tobacco list, he wasn’t in the mood to attend any function this evening, let alone a ball at the Worthington estate. But Juliet’s father had requested his attendance, no doubt he wanted to make a public appearance with his would-be son-in-law. The official announcement hadn’t yet gone out about their betrothal, though, so it would merely be for show. Several times that day he’d thought to tell Mia the truth, but his words had failed him. So he’d put something together for late this evening, after this ball, where he’d tell her about his engagement.

But attending a ball at Mia’s sister’s home, that would seriously try his patience. Though there was the benefit that while he had no plans to force Mia’s sisters to welcome her back to the family, he knew his presence would make them very nervous.

Hodges stepped into the bedchamber. “Your Grace, I do apologize, but there is a commotion downstairs you probably want to attend to.” As Hodges spoke, the loud voices from below filtered into his room.

“Who is yelling?” Alex asked. He stepped away from his valet and followed Hodges out of the door.

“The dowager, Your Grace. And your brother.” Hodges took a shaky breath. “The police are here, it would seem they followed him here.”

Alex stepped off the staircase to find Simon and two constables with him. His mother stood, hands on hips, a stern scowl marring her features. Her chest rose rapidly from her heavy breathing.

“What is all the commotion about?” Alex asked. “I could hear you howling like children all the way in my room.”

“I prolonged it as long as I could, but I’m afraid we’ve come to take Drew in,” Simon addressed Alex.

“This is utterly ridiculous,” his mother declared. “This is the Duke of Carrington. Have you no shame?”

“They aren’t arresting him,” Drew snarled. He leaned against the wall, seemingly unmoved by the fact that he was moments away from being carted off to prison.

“I wish this was under better circumstances,” Simon said. “Drew, I’m afraid I must arrest you.”

“I insist on knowing what the devil this is about,” the dowager said.

Alex did not need her adding to the frustration of the situation. He’d already spoken with her about the potential scandal. “There’s no need to feign ignorance, Mother,” he said.

“Murder,” Drew supplied. “Isn’t that right, Simon? I would guess we’re up to four counts now?”

“Five,” Simon corrected. “Well, and that doesn’t include the previous ones from last year.”

“You killed someone?” she asked, her hand going to her throat. His mother did her best to appear appalled, shocked and scandalized as if this were occurring in the center of a state performance. At one point he felt certain she was going to collapse into a fit of the vapors, not because she was delicate, but simply because it would have been expected of a woman in her position. But she stood firm, her face now set in a scowl.

“It doesn’t seem to matter if I did it or not,” Drew said.

“Hodges, take the dowager into the drawing room and have her lie down for a while. Bring her in some tea,” Alex said.

With much blustering about the whole situation, his mother was finally removed from the situation.

Drew held out his hands. “Do what you must, Inspector.”

“Damnation, Drew, tell Simon you didn’t do it,” Alex said. “Give him an alibi for the murders.”

Drew met Alex’s gaze. “I cannot.”

“You cannot or you will not?” Alex asked.

“I have no bloody alibi. I was in all of those places with every one of the murders.”

“But you did not kill those women,” Alex said.

“No,” Drew said, his jaw tightening. “I did not.”

Simon met Alex’s gaze and nodded. “I believe him. I don’t think Drew is Jack the Ripper anymore than you do and I will keep working. But right now this is where the clues are leading us and we must take someone into custody. We’ll find the necessary evidence, but until then . . .”

Alex saw Mia standing at the foot of the staircase. She didn’t approach the hallway where the rest of them stood, but she was there listening to everything that was said. Drew saw her, too, his gaze fell to the staircase and he watched her for a moment before turning back to look at Alex. One eyebrow rose, then a smile quirked his brother’s lips.

The constables took Drew out to the waiting carriage. Simon walked out behind them and Alex followed.

“This isn’t over, Alex, I will do my best to make this as short as possible. We’ll find the real killer,” Simon said.

Alex gripped his friend’s arm. “Thank you for believing him.”

Simon nodded, then climbed into the carriage.

Alex stood there trying to think of anything he could do to help his brother. To get him out of the current situation. He knew there was no way to prevent this scandal from utterly ruining their family, but now that seemed the very least of his worries.

Alex watched the carriage drive away from Danbridge. When he stepped back inside, Mia no longer stood at the bottom of the stairs. The Duke of Carrington’s brother arrested for five brutal murders. What that would translate to was everyone believing that Drew was Jack the Ripper. Still the newspapers hadn’t confirmed that the new murders were done by the same killer as Whitechapel, the police had managed to keep that out, but everyone knew.

Alex sent gratitude heavenward that he’d already secured an engagement with Juliet. Though the announcement in the papers was still a few days off, everyone was already talking about it. Hopefully it would be news enough to deflect from this and protect Drew’s reputation a little longer. Alex couldn’t do much more to keep the attention off of his brother.

But he could help Simon find out who the real killer was, not simply because he needed to prove Drew’s innocence, but also because Mia remained in constant danger.

Alex went to the drawing room in hopes he could calm his mother, but as he breached the doorway, she was the very picture of anger. She was not lying down as he’d instructed, instead she stood in the middle of the room barking orders at a maid who cowered across from her.

“You may go,” he told the girl.

His mother’s eyes narrowed. “I have not released her,” she said.

“Enough, Mother.” He turned to the girl. “Go,” he told her and she didn’t wait for additional instructions.

“We have to do something,” his mother said. “We cannot allow this to ruin your life.”

“Mother,
this
is about Drew.”

“That boy has been nothing but trouble since your father brought him home,” she said, ignoring his comment.

“That boy is my brother,” Alex reminded her.

“But he is not
my
son,” she said, doing nothing to hide the spitefulness in her tone.

“To the rest of the world he is. Drew is a Carrington, as much as I am. Denying that now will do nothing to salvage our family name. You know that as well as I do. Besides, it is not Drew’s fault that Father had an affair.”

“Well, we must do something.” She went to the side table and poured herself a brandy, something he’d never seen her do.

“The announcement of my engagement will be in papers in two days. That should distract everyone enough, pull attention from the scandal,” Alex said. He watched his mother take two solid sips of the amber-colored liquid.

“It’s doubtful,” she said. “Everyone has expected the engagement, no one will be surprised. No, I’ll think of something.”

“Perhaps a party,” he said. Giving her something to do, something to plan, might take her mind off of everything and prevent her from saying something to Drew that she could never take back.

“Perhaps,” she said, noncommittally. She downed the brandy, then set the empty glass on the side table. “I’m going to my room and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances.”

“Shall I send a tray up from dinner?” he asked.

“That will be fine.”

He knew his mother took laudanum on occasion to help her sleep. She’d done it since he was a boy. Alex suspected this would be one of those nights. She’d stay in bed until at least noon tomorrow and wake with a headache, but if it put the current situation out of her mind for a while, Alex would say nothing. Besides, he still had to go out for the evening.

She turned on her heel and left the room. He heard her mutter something in the hall, but couldn’t discern her words. A moment later Mia stepped into the room.

“What did she say to you?” he asked.

“Something about with this current scandal, I am the least of her concerns,” Mia said.

***

“I apologize for her rudeness,” he said. “My mother has undergone a great shock with Drew’s arrest.”

Mia nodded, but suspected his words were nothing more than an excuse. She’d heard what the woman had said. Heard the vileness and cruelty in her voice. Granted, she was a woman scorned, but most women in marriages dealt with infidelity from their husbands. It was expected behavior in the upper class of Society. But then Mia supposed most men did not bring home their bastard children for their wives to raise among their legitimate children.

Still it was not Drew’s fault. “I do hope that I am not to blame for his arrest,” she said softly. “I only shared my speculation with you because . . . ,” but she let her voice trail off. Well, she’d told him she thought Drew was the killer because he’d smelled like the man from the alley, but clearly there was additional evidence. Still Alex had said nothing.

“I think someone is trying very hard to make it look like Drew is the killer,” he said.

“Why Drew?” she asked.