The Secrets of Mia Danvers (29 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

Things were getting out of hand, and now the Ripper had two witnesses, one of whom had actually seen his face, perhaps even recognized him. He doubted the latter as he and the formally attractive Miss Beckinsale had never before crossed paths, so it seemed unlikely she would know his name. Still he couldn’t be too careful because she certainly would have recognized that he was a gentleman of great rank.

He’d already tried to get to her, finish what he’d started, but he was not able to reach her. Right now she was being thoroughly guarded at her family’s townhome, they weren’t even allowing the servants to leave. In fact, the only persons who had been allowed entrance into the home had been the inspector and the Duke of Carrington, but neither had stayed long. Eventually, though, the Beckinsale family would make a mistake and he’d be able to get her.

For now it was time to handle matters with the lovely Mia Danvers. She couldn’t identify him by sight, still he didn’t like to leave loose threads around. Not to mention he wanted her, wanted to see fear in her vacant gaze, hear her scream, feel her warm blood on his skin.

She would be his and sooner than he’d thought possible. As it happened he’d approached Danbridge only to discover she was leaving London, fleeing the city to be out of danger. But he knew where she was going and he wasn’t too far behind.

When he’d first realized Mia had witnessed one of his kills, and that she was being protected by the Duke of Carrington, the Ripper had tried to buy information from one of the Danbridge servants to no avail. But after the opera the other night and seeing who sat in the box with the Duke, Jack had discovered other options. And ones that had paid off nicely.

It seemed that Mia would be traveling to the country estate of one Edward Simms, Earl of Fairbanks, to assist in planning the man’s wedding to Mia’s longtime friend Rachel.

Somehow he’d get into that estate. Somehow he’d get Mia alone and he’d have his way with her, take his time.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Alex had left Juliet’s and gone to visit first Simon and then Drew. He hadn’t wanted to do either. He’d wanted to leave Juliet’s and immediately flee to Mia’s side. He wanted to . . . what? Agree for her to be his mistress? No, that wasn’t enough.

He wanted Mia with him always. He wanted her to be his duchess. To hell with convention.

If his brief relationship with Juliet had taught him anything, it was that sometimes it was worth going after what you really wanted, even if it meant you’d never be happy. The risk alone was worth it. But he’d tempered his urges to get to Mia quickly. He’d already hurt her, he knew he owed her apologies and much more. He had to figure out precisely what to say to her. How to tell her that he wanted only her, that he’d been a damned fool to not see it sooner, that he wanted to toss convention out the window and pursue her despite what his mother and everyone else would say.

He didn’t know what he was going to have a harder time overcoming: her bruised feelings or her sheer stubborn belief that she could never be his duchess. But his gut told him that haste was the enemy. If he wasn’t careful, she would bolt.

So he’d left the prison where his brother still sat awaiting release. Alex tried to remain calm, tried to squash the eagerness that surged inside him. He made his way back to Danbridge and immediately went up to Mia’s room in hopes of finding her precisely where he’d left her the night before.

He knew it was too much to hope for as he’d already seen her up and about the house this morning, but he still longed for her to be in her bed. If so, he’d simply climb in beside her and ask her to repeat those words.

She was not in her room, though, and the bed they’d shared was made with the coverlet and pillows looking very much as if no one had slept in it. Next he tried the library to see if Rachel sat reading to Mia from the
Jane Eyre
text they’d been sharing. But the room was empty and cold. Two more rooms he searched were both empty and his nerves had begun to tighten, his heartbeat raced. Where was she?

He called for Hodges and almost immediately his butler stood before him.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his white-gloved hands clasped in front of him.

“Where is Miss Danvers?” Alex asked.

“She is gone.”

“Gone? Gone where, precisely?”

Hodges took a swift breath. “She has gone with Lord Fairbanks and Miss Webster to Yorkshire.”

No doubt she’d fled, ready to leave her memories of him behind her in London after he’d so callously rejected her the night before. Damnation. His misplaced sense of duty had made a royal mess of things.

The night they’d discussed her being his mistress, Alex had heard her sweet admission as they’d lain in the darkness. No doubt she’d thought him to be sleeping. And he’d allowed her to believe it, too. He’d heard her words and he hadn’t reciprocated, hadn’t known what to say, what to think.

He’d known how he felt, how his heart had sped at those three little words.
I love you.
He’d felt as if he could have done anything in that moment, accomplished any task set before him, climbed the highest mountain, slain the fiercest dragon.
I love you.
Her love meant more than he’d known was possible. And now, standing in the foyer of Danbridge, he knew why.

He loved her, too.

How he hadn’t seen the truth before, he wasn’t certain. Perhaps simply because he hadn’t been looking for it. Hell, love had been the very last thing he had expected. He hadn’t even believed in it, thinking it was more the pastime for silly girls and foolish romantics.

Even without her love he couldn’t imagine life without her. Yet she loved him. It would create a scandal; her blindness, the fact that she’d lived under his protection for this long, his recent betrothal to another woman, but none of that mattered. Not simply because the Carringtons had already ridden out more than their fair share of scandals. He’d fought for so long to avoid the scandal of the Carrington men, yet he’d fallen right into the middle of one. Hell, he’d created it. And in this moment, he welcomed it. If the scandal meant he could have Mia, he’d be the most scandalous Carrington that had ever lived.

Who were those people whose opinions were so valued, so vaulted above all others? His own mother would be horrified and he found that rather satisfying. Why had he spent so much time and effort trying to find a bride that would please a woman who hadn’t smiled in nearly ten years? He didn’t even particularly like his mother all that much; though he loved her for familial reasons, she was unkind and arrogant and had been hateful to Drew his entire life. As if he’d had some kind of say in his lineage. She would never approve of Mia, but Alex didn’t approve of her so somehow that all evened things out.

“Hodges,” Alex said. “Ready a carriage for me. I’m off to Yorkshire.”

Hodges smiled. “I shall get your carriage ready. Would you like me to also pack you a bag?”

“No, I don’t believe I’ll be gone long enough to need anything but a change of clothes. I shall grab that myself. Be certain to have Miss Danvers’s room ready for when I return,” he said as he made his way to the staircase.

“Yes, Your Grace. And if I might say, it is about time.” Hodges smiled and inclined his head.

“You may not, but I completely agree.”

***

They had arrived at Edward’s country estate a few hours before and had settled in. It was a newly acquired purchase for Edward and he’d yet to fully staff the home, but the housekeeper and cook had made them feel welcome. Rachel had insisted on Mia bringing her sculpting, claiming the work would get her mind off of how things had ended with Alex.

As she sat working now, she was thankful for her friend’s suggestion. It certainly had not removed Alex from her mind; on the contrary, the flood of raw emotions simmering just beneath the surface made the sculpting itself more visceral. She could feel the precise texture of the clay. Finally she felt ready to tackle the goddess’s face.

Edward had set her up in one of the parlors downstairs, one that hadn’t been fully furnished yet and the carpeting hadn’t yet been replaced. Despite the chill in the air, she’d declined having a fire lit, knowing that while the warmth would heat her bones, the heat would dry out her clay. So she sat in one of her old wool dresses, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. A storm would be here soon.

Before Rachel had retired to bed, she’d walked with Mia from the parlor to her bedchamber several times so that Mia could memorize every piece of furniture, every step she’d have to climb in order to make it to her room unscathed. When the housekeeper had finally left Mia alone, she’d insisted on leaving one candle burning. Mia could not see the light, but she could feel a hint of warmth seeping off of the flame to her right.

She carved and worked, trying to get the woman’s eyes just right. Diana was the goddess of the hunt, wild animals and virgins. It was said she was fierce and pious in her celibacy and therefore Mia knew there would need to be a certain intensity in her eyes.

She moved the sharp blade against the clay cutting away the excess, then smoothed it down with her thumb. Unlike the bust she’d made of Venus, Diana was not quite as beautiful, though certainly she would have been a handsome woman. Perhaps not as delicate. So engrossed was she in her work that she almost missed the scrape of wood at the door. She looked up.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

“I have waited a long time for this,” a man said from the doorway.

“I’m sorry?” Mia asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you one of Lord Fairbank’s footmen?” Her heart thundered, but she tried to steady her breathing. It was merely the unfamiliarity with the house that had her feeling so unsettled.

“No, we have not met, at least not formally,” he said. “But I intend to remedy that now.”

Mia came to her feet, she gripped her carving tool tightly in her hand, but kept it close to her skirts. Something about him or the scenario didn’t feel right. But everyone at Edward’s house had been so kind, there was no reason to doubt the people here. Besides, she had that pistol that Alex had given her. It was tucked into her right stocking and would only take a moment to retrieve if need be.

“I believe our relationship, as it were, is a bit uneven. You see, I know precisely who you are.” She heard the strike of a match and then subtle sizzle as he held the flame to his cigar. He inhaled slowly and then exhaled.

The scent of his tobacco surrounded her. Awareness flooded her.
Oh God.
He’d found her.

“But I don’t believe you know who I am. My friends,” he said with a cold chuckle, “call me Jack.”

She forced herself to slow her breathing. She must keep her wits about her else he’d kill everyone in the house. “But that isn’t your real name?” she asked. Perhaps if she kept him talking, she could use the time to think of a way out of here.

“Very astute of you,” he said.

“Who are you really?” she asked, knowing full well he would not tell her.

“That is my secret. But in time the world will know. You shall be long gone by then, though,” he said. He’d moved toward her. His footsteps fell quietly on the floor, but still she was able to hear the movement. The scent of his tobacco was stronger, tickling at her nose. Her stomach recoiled.

“What about Drew?” she asked.

“Convenient, nothing more.” His tone was calm, almost lazy as he casually answered her questions as if they discussed nothing more important than the weather. “One night in a pub I heard him talking about you, mentioned you were a witness. It seemed a perfect situation. So I followed him around. Turns out he has a penchant for servant girls. He was perfect for a while.”

He’d come here to kill her. Mia knew that. She wasn’t ready to give up, though, she had much to live for. She fervently wished she hadn’t been scared and had told Alex she loved him while he’d been awake. But she wanted one last chance to tell him to his face. Give him a chance to respond.

“I know why you’ve come,” she said.

“I didn’t figure you for a fool. But you had to have known I’d find you sooner or later. I can’t allow witnesses to roam free. I have more work to do and I can’t do that work if I’m locked in a prison.”

“What of Miss Beckinsale?” she asked.

“Yes, she will have to be taken care of as well. But I haven’t been able to get to her just yet, her family is being particularly cautious. It’s only a matter of time, though. I will find her as well and I will finish her.”

There was no use trying to negotiate for her life. She could plead her case, remind him of her blindness, that she could never identify him, but it wouldn’t work. He had no conscience, had no heart. She could scream. Alert everyone in the household that she was in danger and more than likely people would come running. And he’d most certainly kill the very next person who walked through that door.

He kept moving in the room. She could hear the faint steps he took and the slight brush of his clothing. But she did not know precisely where he stood. He was trying to confuse her, she knew that much. He was clever.

Well, she might not be able to negotiate with him, but she could certainly fight for her life. But to do that she needed to even the odds a bit more. That single candle lit to her right provided him the only light in the room. She knew the heavy drapes were drawn over the windows, blocking out any light from the moon outside. And there was no illumination coming from the hearth as no fire had been lit.

If she could extinguish the candle, she just might have the opportunity to get away. In the dark, she would have the advantage.

All she would need do is lean forward and blow out the candle. But if he saw her move toward it, he could be on her.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked, his voice growing closer.

“Kill me,” she said. She moved slightly to her right.

“Yes, but before I kill you, I’m going to cut you,” he said, madness transfixing his voice to something almost inhuman.

A little bit further and she could feel the slight heat from the candles. She reached forward and grabbed the wick. The flame burned into her skin, but the light extinguished. He ran into a piece of furniture and swore. They were in the darkness.

She reached beneath her gown for the pistol secured in her stocking and held it out in front of her. For now she could only wait for him to move, wait for him to make his location known. She needed to know where he was, what direction she needed to aim the gun.

“Where are you?” he asked in a singsong tone.

She said nothing and listened for his movements. He was heading for the desk area, no doubt in an effort to relight the candles. She held the gun out in front of her, aiming in the appropriate direction of the desk. He hit another piece of furniture, probably the chair. She cocked the gun and heard the bullet slide into the chamber. He was fumbling for something in his pocket. His matches for his cigar. She was out of time. She aimed and fired. He howled with pain and she turned and ran.

***

A
lex heard the shot just as he stepped out of the carriage. At least what he thought was a gunshot. It could very well have been the thunder growling off in the distance, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d heard gunshots enough to be relatively certain that that’s what he’d heard. So he ran, up the stairs and into the front of Edward’s house. He made it into the foyer to see Mia bolt out of a room to the left and head toward the staircase. From her hand dangled the pistol he’d given her.

“Mia, what happened?” he asked, racing to reach her. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Alex! He found me. He’s in that parlor. I shot him.”

“The killer?” By now Edward and Rachel and two servants had arrived to investigate the commotion. He didn’t bother speaking to them; once Mia nodded, Alex tore into the room she’d just left.

The door was left open, but the room was dark, the dim light from the hallway not providing enough illumination to see anything. The housekeeper following him carried a large fireplace poker.