Her Dark Curiosity (The Madman’s Daughter #2)(16)
Author: Megan Shepherd

Edward leaned on the back of the chair opposite me, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “Have you seen the hedge maze in the garden, Miss Moreau? There’s a wonderful view from the window.” His eyes flickered toward the sun-drenched windowpanes. It was a good ten paces from where Lucy and her aunt argued—well out of earshot. He wanted to speak in private. When I hesitated, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Please, Juliet.”

There was such tightly controlled desperation in his words that I set down my tea, shaking, and glanced at Lucy. They were talking of the grand Christmas tree that would soon be delivered in preparation for the masquerade. I stood and walked to the window with unsteady steps, Edward right behind me. It was a beautiful winter’s day outside, the hedges still evergreen, not a cloud in the sky.

I kept my voice at a whisper. “If you dare to hurt Lucy—”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, matching my hushed tone. “I would never hurt her. I have some measure of control over—”

“Henry!” Lucy called behind us. “Henry, come tell Aunt Edith how we met that day in the rain. She wants to hear, and you know I’ve no patience for storytelling.”

His smile to her was artificial, though not unkind. “One moment, darling.”

When his eyes returned to mine, the false smile had vanished. “I swear to you I mean Lucy no harm. I wouldn’t ever let myself be around her if I thought the Beast might get free. I have a small measure of control over him; not enough to prevent the transformations, nor the crimes he commits, but I can delay them.”

I studied the deep crease in his forehead. I’d spent weeks with Edward at sea and on Father’s island, ignorant of his darker nature, and he had never hurt me, always managing to curb his other half’s cravings until he could release the Beast on some other poor victim. Perhaps he did have some measure of control over his transformations, but all I could picture was the cadaver room full of bodies.

“How did you escape the island? I thought you were dead—”

“I’m trying to cure myself, Juliet.” His eyes were hooded, his body tense. “I’m close. I just need to identify one missing ingredient in the serum.”

Here was the Edward I knew, the young man whose eyes were like a mirror to my own. “What kind of cure?” I whispered, rubbing my own knuckles, which were already beginning to ache.

“I have a plan, but I need a little more time.”

“You’ve been in London for a while; you should have come to me sooner.”

“I didn’t dare involve you. I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid direct contact with you, afraid the Beast might learn some information he could use later to harm you. I’ve settled for slips of news from Lucy about you. She cares about you a great deal, you know; she speaks of you often.” His throat tightened. “It didn’t mean that I didn’t want to see you. In fact, I wanted to see you quite badly.”

The look in his eyes gave me pause. Nothing of the Beast’s glowing yellow eyes lurked there now, though what I saw frightened me nearly as much.

Desire.

I looked away, wishing my cheeks weren’t turning pink. It seemed Edward’s infatuation with me hadn’t lessened with the passing months.

“Meet me somewhere,” I said, quick and low. “You must tell me what is going on.”

He shook his head. “I don’t dare. I never wanted to involve you until I was cured.”

“I don’t care what you want! People are dying, Edward.” I darted a glance at Lucy and dropped my voice lower. “And we both know exactly who is responsible. I’m already involved, don’t you see? I was involved since the day the sailors pulled you out of the ocean and onto the Curitiba. You must agree to meet me, and tell me everything. If you don’t, I’ll expose you. Lucy’s other suitor is the detective leading the investigation of the Wolf of Whitechapel. I can have him here in minutes.”

My heart pounded. I knew, on some deep level, that it was madness to even be talking to Edward. I also knew that, madness or not, Edward’s and my fates were tied together. I was the one threatening to expose him now, but our roles could so easily be reversed.

He took out his gold pocket watch and flipped it open and shut in indecision. At last he closed it and said, “Where?”

We needed someplace public enough so that I would be safe alone with him, yet private enough to speak intimately. My mind went back to the island, he and I behind the waterfall, sharing secrets and even a stolen kiss. My cheeks went warm with the memory.

“The Royal Botanical Gardens at Kensington,” I whispered. “The greenhouse. We’ll each leave separately and meet there within an hour.”

He nodded.

The grandfather clock in the study chimed. Aunt Edith stood up and brushed the crumbs off her skirt, missing half of them. “Two o’clock already. I’ve got a dinner tonight at the club I must get ready for. Henry, dear, it’s been a pleasure. Won’t you walk me out?”

Edward’s eyes met mine. We were accomplices in this lie now, for better or worse. “I’ll be saying good-bye then, Lucy. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Moreau.”

I hesitated a breath, just long enough to remember his false name.

“And you, Mr. Jakyll.”

TEN

THE PARLOR DOOR REMAINED open behind them, leaving only the sound of the ticking hallway clock. Henry Jakyll. Edward Prince. One and the same.

“I’m glad she’s left,” Lucy said, coming to stand next to me at the window. “I think Aunt Edith only ever comes to tea to chastise me for all the things I’ve done wrong.” She hunted in the fruit bowl on the side table and selected a grape. “What did you think of Henry?” she asked slyly, popping the grape into her mouth. “He’s just awful, isn’t he? Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes, awful,” I said carefully, glancing out the window to try to catch a glimpse of him as he left. “Not your type at all. Inspector Newcastle is more attractive anyway, don’t you think?”

She frowned, but at that moment I glimpsed Edward and Lucy’s aunt stepping out of the house below, where he helped her into her cabriolet and then started down the street at a fast pace, heading to the botanical gardens for our rendezvous. I looked at the sky, where the sun was already casting shadows. Two, maybe three hours before sunset. Damn these short winter days. I’d certainly not be able to meet Edward and still have time to rush back home for dinner at the professor’s. He’d be beside himself with worry when I didn’t show up.