Deception at Sable Hill (20 page)

Years.

When Sean did appear in the waiting room, a dark scowl on his face made everyone in the room scatter like roaches blinded by light, and Eloisa knew he probably wasn’t going to want to hear about how her new taste of freedom felt.

He had not. Instead, he strode to her side, glared, asked her a few questions, and then bit out three words. “Come. With. Me.”

As a couple of men chuckled under their breaths, Eloisa did as she was bid, following Sean up the stairs, down the hall, and into this office.

When he stopped, he pointed to yet another rickety, wooden ladderback chair. “Sit.”

She sat, attempting to shake out her blue wool skirts in a pleasing way as she did so. It seemed some old habits die hard.

Now, as she stared up at Sean, who, instead of walking around his desk and sitting, had decided to perch against the edge of the desk,
she realized that something had happened that had been completely out of her hands.

She was developing an affection for this Irish police officer with the handsome good looks, rough hands, and absolutely mesmerizing hazel eyes.

He, on the other hand, was no doubt beginning to wish he’d never come to her aid in the Gardners’ ballroom.

When it was apparent that he wasn’t going to lead the conversation, Eloisa began. “Lieutenant Ryan, forgive me for intruding upon your time.”

“Forgive you for intruding?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I know you asked me to wait at home until you had a moment.”

“You remember that, do you?” His accent was thicker than she’d ever heard it.

“Of course I remember.” She attempted to smile. “And, well, I know you are very busy. And, um, I also know it’s technically none of my business . . . but I need to know who last night’s victim was.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Technically?”

She wasn’t sure if he knew what the word meant. “Yes, I meant, um, theoretically.”

“I knew what you meant.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “All right. Well, what I am trying to say . . . is that while the Slasher’s latest victim isn’t any of my business, it hasn’t stopped me from worrying.”

He took a fortifying breath. “Miss Carstairs—”

“Eloisa.”

“Pardon?”

“Please, could you call me by my first name? I thought we’d agreed to that.” She needed to be close to him again. Needed the warmth in
his eyes, the tenderness in his touch. She needed it as much as she needed the answers she’d come for.

“It isn’t—”

“At least when we’re alone?”

To her dismay, he looked even more uncomfortable. “Miss Carstairs, I would rather not share anything with you at this time.”

“Why not?”

“It’s been my experience that sometimes when we think we want to know the worst, discovering the truth doesn’t make it better.”

“Please,” she begged again, hating that she sounded high strung even to her ears. Wary. Bordering on manic. “I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t so important to me. Please—”

“The victim was June Redmond, Eloisa.”

She exhaled. And just like that, all the fight and gumption left her.

The Slasher had gotten to June. Images of June, with her darkblonde hair and ditzy attitude and easy laugh, suffused her. Along with the knowledge that June had recently been feeling as stifled as Eloisa had lately. They’d been kindred spirits of a sort.

Rumors had recently abounded about June. Gossips claimed she had begun to frequent some of the more unseemly salons and cafés in the city. Some women whispered that they’d heard June had been seen on the arms of some of the businessmen in the city. Men who might have a lot of money but little else in their favor.

Finally, Eloisa recalled the time June and she had been guests of Veronica Sloane a little over a year ago. Veronica had been in fine form, lashing out at any woman she’d deemed a rival for the gentlemen’s attention.

The whole evening had been so exasperating—and never-ending—that she and June had stayed close together. They told jokes and made a few rather snide comments about their hostess as the night wore on.

Eloisa wasn’t proud of her behavior. But it was an evening she remembered with more than a touch of true fondness. After all, there were so very few other girls in their situations. And now June was gone.

Sean leaned forward, his expression intense. “You knew her.”

She inclined her head. “I did. Quite well.”

“Is there anything you could tell me about her?”

How could she attempt to describe June so someone who had never met her would understand the type of person she was? It seemed an impossible task. “I’m not sure what I could say that would be of use.”

“Come now. Surely you can think of something. Anything that might be of interest to this criminal? We are learning he seems to be targeting not only wealthy women, but those who are at the height of popularity.”

“That wasn’t June.” Thinking of Danica, she added, “That wasn’t Danica, either. Both of those girls hadn’t been popular. Before they made their debuts, everyone thought they would be very popular. They were not.”

“Why was June not well received?” His speech turned even more clipped. “Eloisa, I need to understand the kind of woman she was. And, it seems, the kind of lady she wasn’t.”

“I don’t want to speak poorly of her.”

“Eloisa, please. So far, all we know is that she was beautiful and rich.”

The offhanded comment burned. “She was more than that,” she said quickly. “June had a delicious sense of humor. Stinging.”

“Bad enough that, perhaps, she might have inadvertently stung someone’s pride?”

“I don’t know. I knew her, Lieutenant Ryan. But though we were friends, I didn’t know her well enough to guess what might have upset a murderer.”

Sean pressed his knuckles onto the flat surface of his desk.
“Detective Howard is with her family this morning. I’m sure he’ll get some information, but they might not be very forthcoming. I know you feel disloyal. I know you’re upset. But I need your honesty. Eloisa, I need your help.”

For the first time, she saw real fear in his eyes. Fear for her, fear for the other ladies in her midst.

“June has been out as long as I have. She, like me, has also not made a match. She was tired. Tired of the pressure, tired of the sameness that makes up our days. She . . . she began to become a bit . . . reckless with her time and her companions.”

His gaze was so intense, she was sure an explosive could be set off behind him and he still wouldn’t blink. “Tell me.”

“Some of the men were from the fair. Others new to Chicago. Men with a great deal of money, eager to spend it, to make a grand entrance.” Weighing her words, she continued quietly. “Make a statement.”

“Did you know these men?”

She shook her head. “I am comfortable with few men.”

“Yet you came down here by yourself. Unescorted,” he bit out.

“Coming here was different.” She took a deep breath, intending to tell him more about why it was different, but she couldn’t find the words to tell him that she’d instinctively known she would feel safe around him. That she was sure he would make her safe.

As her words lay between them, sinking, his gaze turned hard. Accusing. “That is your explanation?”

It wasn’t, but what else could she say? Helplessly, she shrugged.

His eyes narrowed. “Does your mother know you are here?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you tell anyone of your plans? If, God forbid, something happened to you on your way here, would anyone have known you were on your way to see me?”

Of course she hadn’t told anyone. Her parents would have forbidden her to see Sean, even with an escort. And if she’d told Juliet, her maid would have felt honor bound to tell someone. Otherwise she would be let go.

Unfortunately, her elusiveness was disturbing to him. His expression grew colder as he shook his head. “Miss Carstairs, I have to say that at the moment, you are not making any sense at all. It seems you are determined to traipse around the city in some twisted need for excitement.”

Twisted? “Definitely not.”

“Instead of helping me, you have only given me more to worry about.” He glared. “On a silver platter.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“By coming here unescorted, you have yourself in a precarious spot. A perilous situation.”

“No one downstairs was anything but respectful, Lieutenant.”

“Correction. They were respectful to your face, Eloisa. No doubt they had much to say behind your back.”

She rolled her eyes. “You make it sound as if no other men and women do the same thing.”

“Don’t pretend to be so naïve. We both know you are governed by a different set of rules.”

She thought they’d moved beyond such things. That they’d moved beyond merely thinking of each other in terms of their social standings.

What had happened? When he’d escorted her to Hope House he seemed to understand her need to be around other people, in a way very few people ever did. But now? Now it seemed they were once again strangers.

His dissension hurt. Stung. “Why are you so angry with me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not angry, I am worried. I know it isn’t my place to
tell you this, but I wish you would take more precautions. You should be staying home where it is safe.”

“Don’t you understand, Sean? That is exactly how I have been passing the past few weeks. Living in fear, reliving what Douglass did to me.”

He visibly flinched. “I would give most anything to have spared you that. But don’t you understand that what happened should have made you even more aware of the dangers around you?”

“Living the way others want me to is how I’ve lived my entire life! I don’t wish to do that anymore. If I have a question, I want to be able to ask it.”

“There are different ways to go about that. You should have waited until I paid you a call.”

“You want me to sit at home until you have a spare moment for me? To stare out the window waiting like a child?”

“If that is how you choose to characterize it, yes.”

Stunned and hurt and more than a little confused by his tone, Eloisa sprang to her feet. “I thought you were different. I thought we were different. I thought we were friends.”

He straightened. “We cannot be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m Irish, Eloisa. Because I’m working class. Because my family built canals and railroads and worked in the stockyards while yours financed them. Because each of your evening gowns likely costs more than I earn in a month.”

“Those things don’t matter.”

“They most certainly do.” He held up his hands, as if they were stained beyond repair.

“Those things don’t define you.”

His head jerked. “Eloisa—”

“Just as my parents and their house do not define me, your family and home do not define everything you are. You are more than that.” She bit her lip. “At least I thought you were.”

“That is true. But their personalities and circumstances aren’t more than a stone’s throw away from who I am. We can’t live in a narrow tunnel pretending things we don’t like don’t affect us.” Quietly, he added, “If I’ve led you to believe I would welcome such familiarity from you, I am very sorry.”

She stared at him in mortification. Not knowing what to say. No longer having any idea of what she should do.

Luckily, the sound of heavy footsteps and the rattle of the door opening broke the silence.

She turned to see Owen Howard striding forward. “Eloisa?” he asked, his eyes searching her out. When they connected, his voice softened. “Dear, you’ve given me such a fright. Why are you here?”

“Owen.” Seeing his kind expression, tears pricked her eyes. “Owen, I’m so glad to see you.”

He reached her side in an instant, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Darling, what is it?” Darting a lethal glance Sean’s way, he murmured, “You are overwrought.” He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a reassuring hug.

Making her realize that had been the real reason she’d come to the police station. The real reason she’d wanted to see Sean Ryan. She’d needed the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Oh, Owen,” she murmured as he pulled her closer. And his reassuring hand on the back of her neck, the feel of his arm around her shoulders, made the tears fall and all her fears no longer at bay.

After a few moments, he pulled away. Then he gently wiped away the tear tracks that stained her cheeks with a pressed handkerchief that smelled of cologne. “May I get you some tea?”

“No, thank you. I need to leave.” Unable to stop herself, she glared at Sean. “I realize now that I never should have come.”

“Please, let me escort you home.”

Seeing Sean’s face set in a careful, hard mask, she nodded and edged closer to Owen. “Would you mind?” she whispered. “I know you have a lot to do . . .” She’d tell him outside the station that she needed to return to Hope House instead.

“There is nothing more important than your safety, my dear.” He winked. “Besides, I do believe walking by your side will make me the envy of every man here.”

“Owen, even now you are a shameless flirt.”

“It’s not flirting if my feelings are genuine. I promise, I cannot think of a better use of my time than seeing you safely home.”

She smiled at his words. Looked into his eyes, saw a delicious warmth in them. And a tenderness too. So different than the caustic, bossy, guarded Sean Ryan. “Thank you.”

As she moved to the door, Owen turned to Sean. “Will you be here when I return?”

“If I’m not, I’ll leave word where I am.” His cool tone matched Owen’s.

“Very well,” Owen replied before placing a firm hand on the small of her back and guiding her out. “Let’s go, dear.”

Eloisa smiled at him gratefully as he led her through the stacks of papers on the floor, the mismatched chairs, and the rickety-looking side table stained an unfortunate shade of brown.

She exited the office and made sure she didn’t look back once. She also knew she didn’t really need to know what was happening between the two men. Both were policemen. One was of her social standing—one was definitely not. Both seemed concerned about her, but only one seemed to know how to communicate that without scaring her.