“You a nurse?” The coroner squinted at me. “Doctor’s sending all sorts down to collect his specimens now.”
My nostrils flared. Thomas carefully stepped beside me. He was worried for the old man’s safety, not mine. “Miss Wadsworth is exceptional with postmortem studies. Her inquiry is a valid point, sir. Blood evidence is often overlooked, but we’ve found instances where studying it proves most beneficial to tracing a murderer’s killing blows.”
“Did that fancy London schooling help Scotland Yard find Jack the Ripper?” He shook his head. “You’ve got thirty minutes before the meat cart comes for her. Unless you’ll be following her to the island of unclaimed bodies, I suggest focusing on what you came to do.”
Uncle held a hand up, both a command and a request for my silence. Fuming at the ignorance of that rude man, I silently counted to ten. Fantasizing about all the ways I could flay him open until I found peace once more. Uncle pulled an apron from his medical satchel and handed it to me, his focus straying to my leg. “If this is too much—”
“I’m fine, sir.” I set my cane against the cadaver table and tied the apron about my person. “Shall I make the first incision or assist while you do it?”
Uncle took in the determined set of my jaw, the defiance flashing in my eyes, and gave me a small nod of approval. He’d taught me well.
“Don’t forget to hold the skin taut.”
EIGHT
BARON OF SOMERSET
GRANDMAMA’S PARLOR
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
22 JANUARY 1889
“Care to sit on my lap?” I whirled around and the corner of Thomas’s mouth lifted in a half smirk. “Your pacing’s having a curious effect on my pulse. If we’re going to remain distracted from our research, there are more exciting ways to pass the time that will keep our heart rates up.”
“This is hardly the time for such… pursuits, Cresswell.”
“This might be the perfect time for those pursuits. Your uncle’s escorting Liza around the city. Mrs. Harvey, bless her predictability, is napping. Which means you and I have the house to ourselves. If we were to compare it to some killer’s motivation, this is an opportunity too perfect to pass up. Shall I kiss you or would you prefer to kiss me first?”
“Oh, yes. Now that you’ve compared our romantic tryst with a murderer, I feel precisely like kissing.” I shot him my most incredulous look. “In the last twenty-four hours, we’ve discovered Jack the Ripper might not be who we thought he was and is still alive. A woman was brutally murdered. My father will be here in mere hours, deciding our fate, and you’re lounging in that chaise, sipping coffee, nibbling on petit fours, and making untoward innuendoes as if nothing is wrong.”
“They’re only untoward if you’re uninterested. Judging by the flush creeping into your face, and the way you keep glancing at my mouth with that ravish-me-now look in your eyes, I’d say you were quite keen on ruining me this moment.”
“Have you no morals?”
“Don’t be ridiculous; of course I’ve got morals. One or two, perhaps.”
“Honestly, Cresswell?” I couldn’t believe he was making light of our situation when I was certain the universe was caving in around us.
“You’re right. Three at most.”
Thomas popped another petit four into his mouth and stretched his legs out in front of him. His chest rose and fell in even intervals. It was maddening that he could be so calm and collected while I felt as if a storm was lashing about my insides.
He grinned.
“Your father, Lord Wadsworth, the great Baron of Somerset, adores me and wishes to see you happy. There’s nothing to worry over there. We’re one step closer to uncovering the truth behind the Ripper murders. Which is cause for celebration. This”—he held his cup up—“is actually a strange—yet not entirely unpleasant—herbal tea concoction Liza offered me before she left.” He took a sip of it and continued to drink me in as he did so, his gaze sweltering enough to nearly burn a hole in my resolve. “And it was a genuine request, not an innuendo.”
“Gentlemen don’t offer such crude suggestions to their loved ones.”
Trouble sparkled in his eyes. “Scoundrels do and they have entirely more fun.”
Part of me longed to fall into his arms and kiss him until all our worries melted away, but that was impractical. I snuck a quick look at him, admiring the deep blue of his suit. Thomas might be more scoundrel than gentleman, but he always dressed the part of a prince. This morning was no exception. My focus moved from the swirls on his waistcoat to the careful knot of his cravat and traveled up to his full lips. The ones that were quirked in wicked delight. My face heated as I realized I’d been caught admiring him.
“I promise not to bite or nip at you in any untoward manner. Please.” He patted the seat next to him, expression devilish yet innocent. “I have something for you.”
“Thomas—”
“Swear it.” He crossed his heart. “Here.”