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“I don’t know how you and my Thomas do what you do and keep your wits about you,” she said, snapping back to the present, “but I’m proud of you both. You make a fine pair, you know. In your apprenticeship and in other ways. Has Thomas made his intentions clear?”
I stuck my face in my cup, hoping the steam could be blamed for the flush creeping onto my skin. “Yes… well… that is, I believe he wishes to speak with my father.”
“He’s not conventional. Lord help him, he’s got much to learn about using those manners of his, but his heart is good.” Mrs. Harvey took another sip, eyeing me over her spectacles. “You will make him very happy, Audrey Rose. But, most important, I believe he will also make you very happy.” She wiped at wetness in the corner of her eye. “It’s not proper… but… here.”
Without saying more, she handed over a folded note. There was no name on it and no envelope. I looked up quickly. “What’s this?”
Mrs. Harvey gathered her flask and moved toward the door, lifting a shoulder. “I haven’t the slightest notion what you mean, dear. I’m simply an old woman who came to say good evening. I sleep like the dead, so you’ll have to shout if you need me. I most certainly wouldn’t hear if your door opened and closed.”
With a wink, she closed the door to our chambers, leaving me gaping after her. Clearly she hadn’t been as unaware of Thomas’s flirtations last month as she had appeared. Without thinking too hard on how he’d convinced her to take part in this new scheme, I unfolded the paper. A short message in neat script greeted me. I wondered who’d written it until I read it.
My pulse thrummed at the proposition contained in one small line. It wasn’t the first time Thomas had requested we meet somewhere at such an indecent hour. Unchaperoned. This time, however, we weren’t in a mostly empty boarding school in Romania, far from inquisitive eyes. If we were to be caught alone here amongst the upper class—I’d be deemed a trollop, my reputation destroyed. Then again, perhaps Thomas had deduced a new theory or discovered another clue that might unveil Miss Prescott’s murderer. My wretched curiosity whirled with possibilities.
I stared at the note a moment more, biting my lip, surprised Thomas would have an attendant take down such a personal message. I could pretend as if I’d never received it. Do the polite and decent thing expected of me. But that path was so utterly dull. I thought of Thomas’s lips on mine, imagined his hands tangled in my dark hair, our breath coming in short gasps as his hands slowly traveled over me, exploring and teasing.
Acceptable or not, I craved his touch.
My eyes snapped to the small clock ticking away on my nightstand. It was nearly midnight now. I glanced down at my silk robe and lace-trimmed nightgown, the ruffles on my sleeves falling across my fingers. There wasn’t enough time to get dressed and rush all the way to the starboard side of the boat without being seen. Yet showing up in my current state would cause embolisms should I run into anyone else who’d decided on a midn
ight stroll. Which sounded precisely like the sort of deviant plan Thomas would make.
“Scoundrel.” I smiled, then tossed my winter cloak on, grabbed a scalpel from my medical bag just to be safe, and hoped for the best as I crept out my door.
During daylight hours, the Etruria inspired feelings of grand travel and frivolity, what with its massive masts and large steam funnels. Hardwood floors had been buffed and polished until sunshine gleamed like diamonds from them, and the roof above the promenade deck was a beautiful addition to the pearly corridor of first class.
At night those same features felt haunted, dangerous. The overhang was more akin to an open mouth, waiting to chomp down on guests; the same shining floors were now reminiscent of a salivating tongue. Lifeboats secured to the wall were actually perfect hiding places instead of quaint miniatures. The immense sails snapped around as if they were wings of some enormous sea creature hunting fresh meat. Smokestacks exhaled, the fog lingering around the railing, watching. Anything might be lurking in the mist. Or, more appropriately, anyone.
“Foolish,” I whispered, pulling my fur-trimmed cloak tighter as icy fingers meandered down my skin. If Miss Prescott hadn’t been murdered, I’d blame my overactive imagination for morphing the boat into a gargantuan creature. But there truly could be something hiding in the shadows, hoping to sink its claws into my back next. I decided I didn’t care for sea travel one bit.
Thomas would do better to choose a more reasonable place for any future clandestine meetings. Preferably indoors, near a fire, far from empty corridors and thrashing waters. Teeth chattering, I hurried down the promenade, attention snagging on anything that seemed out of place, though it was hard to know exactly what didn’t belong. I’d never traveled on such a vessel before.
Wind whipped down the open corridor with a low warning howl. Ropes creaked. Each new sound was like a needle pricking my veins. I held my scalpel tightly at my side, not wanting to strike out at anyone by mistake. I needed to rein in my emotions, or someone could get hurt. I longed to kiss Thomas, not accidentally eviscerate him.
As I neared the front of the ship, I slowed my pace. I didn’t see my future betrothed, but surely he had to have arrived by now. I strained to see around benches and slatted chairs that had been bolted to the ground. It was hard to make out anything more than silhouettes in the cloud-covered night; the dim lanterns lining the promenade were either turned off or didn’t extend this far. I swallowed my fear down. No one was out hunting me.
“Thomas?” I whispered, inching toward the prow. On this part of the ship, the wind was merciless. I tucked my chin to my chest, though that hardly helped. If Thomas didn’t appear soon, I’d—
He strode toward me, a silhouette in human form. My heart raced.
“Was the dramatic meeting place truly necessary, Cresswell?”
He stopped a few feet from where I stood shuddering. I all but rolled my eyes as he scanned me and then our surroundings. He did not move any closer and my annoyance reared up. This was not the warm greeting I’d pictured as I sneaked about the frigid ship.
“Well? I’m about to catch my death. What was so urgent that we needed to meet out here at this hour? Do you have any news on Miss Prescott?”
He tilted his head to one side, considering. And that’s when I noticed the slight reflection as light caught on his face. As if part of his features were covered in… I gasped.
“Apologies for any disappointment, miss, but my name is not Cresswell.” Mephistopheles took a hesitant step closer. “Though I am intrigued a young lady of your standing would agree to such an unchaperoned meeting.”
I held the scalpel up, cursing my hands for shaking. I did not want him to think my trembling was entirely due to how frightened I was.
“W-what do you want?” I managed to get out. I swore the wind bent to his will; it growled and hissed, finding every crevice in my clothing to claw its way through. Mephistopheles came forward, his cloak whipping about behind him. I did not believe in such things, but in this moment he appeared to be the devil’s heir Chief Magistrate Prescott claimed he was. “S-stop. Or I swear I’ll s-sever your artery. I know pr-precisely where to inflict the m-most damage, sir.”
I don’t know what I expected, but a surprised bark of laughter wasn’t it. He removed his own cloak, his movements unhurried as to not startle me into slashing out.
“Contrary to what you may think, I’m not in the business of watching young women die. Please.” He held the cloak toward me. “Take this. It’s an angora blend. You won’t find another garment as warm or soft, I guarantee it.” I gritted my teeth against their chattering and eyed the cloak. I did not want to accept any form of help from this wicked-looking young man. He slowly grinned. “Here. I’ll lay it over this chair and you can fetch it yourself.” He set it down with care, then stepped back, bowing in mockery. “Your cloak awaits, fair lady.”
“What d-do you want?” I repeated, holding my weapon at the ready. He simply crossed his arms, and stared pointedly at the garment. I exhaled loudly, then snatched up the cloak. I resisted the urge to rub my cheek along the downy softness. In a matter of moments warmth bloomed over my body, and my trembling decreased. He smirked, and I brandished my weapon once more, wiping the smug look from his face. “Answer my question or I shall leave.”
