Temptations of Anna Jacobs (9 page)

Drew knew it was likely too late in the evening to make such a personal call, but this was official business. He made his way up the front steps of Anna’s family townhome and rapped the knocker against the black door.

A butler opened it and eyed him suspiciously. “Yes?” the man asked. He looked down on Drew over a pair of spectacles. “May I assist you in some fashion?”

“I’m here to see Lady Annabelle,” Drew said.

“And who might I say is calling?”

“Andrew Foster. My brother is the Duke of Carrington.” He added that last bit to see if it would give him more leverage.

“I see. Very well, you may find Lady Annabelle at the Trenton ball on Winslow Street,” the butler said with a nod.

“Excellent. My thanks.” Drew turned and got back in his rig. Without another thought he gave the driver the address to Lord and Lady Trenton’s townhome. He hadn’t been to a ball since before he’d gone to prison. That night at the theatre, the first night he’d met Anna, had been a test to see how he could fare in Society. She had not been the only person to judge him that night, though she had been the only one to speak her mind. Further, she had judged him for different reasons than the rest of them—she’d never believed him a murderer. Odds were his brother and Mia would be at this ball, so if people misbehaved toward him, he could always seek out Alex. Drew was used to being in Alex’s shadow.

Drew would find Anna and seek her assistance. It could wait until the following day, but tonight he had to see her, had to be near her, if for only a moment.

***

Anna stood near some potted ferns not far from where her mother sat with her two dearest friends. They were, no doubt, gossiping about the fashion choices of the evening and which couples had escaped onto the balconies, but Anna wasn’t paying close enough attention to be certain. It wouldn’t matter; they said the same things over and over again when together.

This was the price she paid for medical school. While her mother repeatedly requested Anna quit schooling, she’d never once threatened to pull the funding. She only required that Anna attend one Society function a week in exchange for her tuition. This week it was the Trenton ball, one of the Season’s most highly anticipated events.

A footman walked by her and Anna nearly tackled the man to grab one of the remaining glasses of champagne. She smiled sweetly when he looked at her agog. The bubbly liquid teased her nose and lips when she brought the glass in for a sip. The chilled drink burned down her throat.

“Annabelle,” her mother hissed. “Honestly, child, you really ought to stop that woolgathering and pay attention.”

Anna stepped closer to her mother. “What is it?”

“Isn’t that Mr. Foster over there?” Her mother used her fan as if it were an arrow and pointed across the ballroom.

There stood Drew, looking more dashing than any other man in the room despite his lack of formal attire. He wore no waistcoat, no cravat, merely his tweed trousers and linen shirt with an overcoat. His eyes lit on hers and his lips quirked in a grin.

Her heart responded in kind, flipping slightly, and she had to fight to hold back an audible sigh. Good heavens, what was happening to her?

“We shall soon find out; he’s coming this way,” Lady Davies said.

He did in fact begin to walk in her direction, but was stopped by two gentlemen who seemed pleased to see him. “Mother, please,” Anna said. And, bless her mother’s heart, she gathered her friends.

“Come along, ladies, I believe it is time for us to peruse the refreshment table.”

“But I’m not thirsty,” Lady Davies proclaimed.

“Nonetheless, escort me,” her mother insisted.

Lady Wickersham might hover too closely most of the time, but when an eligible man was in sight, she knew when to flee. Anna tried to think of what she should say when he finally resumed his trek across the ballroom. She absently patted her hair, making certain her curls remained in place.

“Eloise, is that not your son?” a woman’s voice said from behind her.

“Yes, that is Andrew. Good Lord, look at the way he is dressed.” The woman clicked her tongue. “Insufferable man. It’s embarrassing.”

Anna turned her body so that she could better hear the exchange. Certainly that was not Drew’s mother speaking so poorly of him—although she had seemed to call him by name.

“He looked to be walking this way before those young men stopped him,” the first woman said. “I do hope he won’t embarrass you.”

“He’s been embarrassing me since the day he was born,” the other woman said.

Without a thought, Anna whipped around to face the two women. “I find it rather appalling that you would speak so cruelly of your own son.”

The dowager duchess nearly stepped backward. “How dare you—”

“How dare me? You’re the one spouting wretched things in public where other people can quite obviously hear you. Andrew Foster is a decent man. He’s intelligent and driven and kind; qualities he certainly inherited from someone other than yourself.”

The dowager’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I would ask you to kindly apologize to me for speaking such a way.”

“It is you who owes the apology.” Anna glared at the woman. She was so angry, she was tempted to box the offensive woman’s ears.

And then he was there, standing before her, and Anna could swear that everyone in the ballroom collectively gasped. “Hello,” she managed.

His eyes boldly took in her form, and it was in that moment she remembered what she was wearing. Unlike her day dresses, which were modestly cut and worked to hide her curves, this dress, a gown of sapphire blue, was designed to accentuate her female form.

“You look stunning,” he said. There was none of his usual jesting tone in that sentence. He then looked over at the dowager. “Mother,” he said simply.

“Andrew.” She nodded in return. “I don’t know who this creature is,” she seethed through her teeth, “but she should be taught to keep her tongue in her head.”

“This creature is the lady I’ve come to dance with,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me.” He pulled Anna into his arms and spun her out onto the dance floor.

The warmth of his hands on her distracted her thoughts. And it didn’t escape her attention that he wore no gloves. But she mustn’t allow such a thing to prevent her from asking about his wretched mother. “That is it? That is all you are going to say to her?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder to where his mother stood, then turned his focus back on Anna. “There is nothing more to say.”

“Perhaps you believe that because you did not hear all the wretched things she said about you.”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard them all before.” He looked directly in her eyes, and she nearly forgot what they were talking about. “Anna, you don’t need to defend me.”

“Someone should.”

“No, it’s truly not necessary.”

“Everyone needs defending every now and then.” They danced in silence for a few measures. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I merely wanted to see you.” Again he looked at her appreciatively, then he gave her a wolfish grin. “That’s a very pretty dress.”

She smiled like a goose. “Thank you.” He was an excellent dancer, and in his arms she forgot all of the times she’d stood at the edge of the ballroom watching all the other girls dance. She ventured a glance up to his face. “You are staring at my bosom,” she hissed.

His eyes slid up to meet hers. “Is that not the point of a dress cut this revealing?”

It was, she knew that. It was why her mother had insisted upon ordering it. Her mother’s efforts to marry her off never failed to try her patience, but tonight it went beyond that—Anna felt quite exposed. Normally she wore these dresses and knew that it wouldn’t matter; men didn’t generally give her a second look. But Drew was practically devouring her with his eyes. The resulting effect on her was twofold; she was embarrassed yet utterly gratified.

She was so used to Drew, the inspector, that she had almost forgot he was raised a gentleman and knew all the social conventions, like dancing. He was graceful and commanding in the ballroom and his warm hand at the small of her back was proving quite distracting.

“Drew, why are you here? Honestly?”

“I need assistance. I need to be able to discuss the investigation with someone who will listen to my theories and not immediately dismiss them because I’m inexperienced. Your brother—”

“Is in Scotland, remember? I suppose you could telegraph him,” she said.

“No, you misunderstand. I merely meant that were Simon here, I know he’d listen to me. But he’s not, and the only other person I can think of who would extend me the same courtesy is you.”

“Oh,” she whispered. His request was thrilling, both because she’d longed to assist on an investigation and also because it meant he wanted to spend more time with her. And that he trusted her, at least to some extent.

“Would you help me?”

There was such earnestness in his tone that Anna knew she wouldn’t have been able to say no even had she wanted to. “Of course.”

Again silence fell between them as they followed the beat of the music with their bodies. When Drew saw Anna turn to face his mother, he had known he had to get across the room to her, before his mother told Anna the truth about Drew. He had no way of knowing precisely what was said between them, but he couldn’t risk Anna uncovering his secret. Not tonight. Not when he’d come for her help.

Because it wasn’t simply her assistance that he needed, but the solace being in the same space as her provided him. He couldn’t explain it, but when he was around Anna, he found it easier to forget his craving for a drink. There was something about her company that he desired.

“Things could have been different between us,” he said before he thought better of it.

“Whatever do you mean?”

He had to answer her; else he knew she’d never let it go. And he’d brought it up. That was another effect of being her presence: saying precisely what was on his mind. “Had we met under different circumstances.” And had he not been the bastard son of the Duke of Carrington. “I would have gone to see your brother, the viscount, and sought his permission to court you.”

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath.

“I would have sought you out at balls and made certain my name was written down on at least three of your dances. And I would have brought you lemonade.” He paused a moment, trying to talk himself out of telling her all of this. “I would have taken you riding in the park and to the museum to see the newest Egyptian antiquities.”

“Indeed?” His admission left her breathless.

“Yes. Why is that surprising?”

“You simply do not seem the sort to jump through Societal hoops, especially for the likes of me.”

“You are precisely the one I would do such nonsense for.”

“I would have said yes,” she whispered. “To all of those things.”

She looked up at him with something akin to wonder gleaming in her eyes. Her lips parted, and with every breath, her bosom seemed to rise closer and closer to him.

“I will likely call on you tomorrow to discuss details of the investigation, as this is neither the time nor place.”

She nodded.

“I do hate to end our dance early, but I’m afraid that if I don’t I might just kiss you right here on this dance floor,” he said.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I most certainly would. You look good enough to eat in that dress.” He flashed her a smile and then he stepped away from her and disappeared into the crowd milling by the doors.

He exhaled when he reached the outside, thankful for the chilled evening air. He hadn’t been lying about any of it, especially wanting to kiss her, but it seemed damned foolish to have told her all of that. He’d never had the desire to court any woman. He’d come into his manhood knowing he was a bastard and hadn’t wanted to sully any of the genteel women with his dirty hands. So he’d spent his time seducing willing servant girls and barmaids.

But now he realized that it hadn’t been to protect any of those silly females; he simply hadn’t met any that had caught his interest. Anna, though, she was different. And damned if he couldn’t have her.

An
na had spent the better part of the following morning trying to study for her upcoming examination. Again and again her mind was drawn to the conversation she and Drew had shared during their dance. If their circumstances had been different . . . She supposed that meant he had no intentions of actually courting her, and had merely been speaking of it as a lost opportunity. She knew that had much to do with the sense of disappointment she’d felt that day, not to mention the distraction from her studies.

Her mother had passed by earlier whilst Anna sat with her medical books open. She’d winced and grumbled and kept walking. If she thought the illustrations of organs were bad, she should inspect a murder victim. Needless to say, she’d wasted enough time mooning about Andrew Foster. It was time to buckle down and focus. The very best place to ensure that happened was her brother’s study.

The carriage jostled Anna as it hit a bump in the road. She clutched her book bag to her and braced her leg on the bench across from her. Anna still felt haunted by the woman’s body, the cuts and abrasions and simply the act of how she came to die. Two nights in a row Anna had woken up with a scream upon her lips, and she’d been drenched in sweat despite the cool night air.

But Doctor Harrison had warned all of them that it was dangerous to get too attached to your patients, because some of them, many of them, would die despite medical efforts. That advice would most certainly apply in this situation as well. Though perhaps there was a reason that thus far there had been no female police surgeons.

Finally the carriage came to a stop and she made her way to the front stoop. She gave the door a knock and the butler gave her entrance. “Good morning, Lady Annabelle,” he said. “Would you like a tea tray sent in?”

“Yes, Rutherford, that would be lovely.”

She entered the study and then stopped in her tracks. Drew sat at the table—well, more precisely he was sprawled with his entire upper body resting against the wooden surface. She moved toward him quietly and then put a hand on his back to feel if he was still breathing. He was warm, his shoulder firm beneath her hand. He sat upright at her touch, grabbed her wrist and leveled a gaze at her, his eyes dark and narrow. Then recognition lit his features and he released her.

“My apologies,” he said. He combed his fingers through his hair. “I must have fallen asleep reading through the notes last night. I’ll be on my way now.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

His reaction frightened her, she couldn’t deny that with her heart still beating wildly. Still she felt sympathy for him. It must be from his time spent in the prison. Horrible things could have happened to him in that wretched place. She knew Simon had done his best to protect Drew, but there was only so much an inspector could do once a man was locked up.

“Drew, there’s no need to leave on my account. I merely need a quiet space to study, and you are not an overly talkative person.”

He gave her a tight smile.

“You came here last night after the ball?” Her cheeks flamed as she asked the question. “Did you discover anything new?” She set her bag down and took a chair opposite him. To make him feel at ease, she went about unpacking her books and notebooks so she wasn’t focused on him.

“I made notes about my whereabouts during the murders. As best I could remember. I think my only real option is the pub . . .” His words trailed off, but she could tell there was more there.

“Did you speak to Bernard about my theory on the blade used?”

He nodded. “I did. He doesn’t believe there are any differences between this victim and any of the other women.”

She opened her anatomy book and thumbed to the correct page. “Well, Bernard is a good detective, but he’s not a great detective. There are inconsistencies and anomalies. Now, whether those differences point to anything significant remains to be seen,” she said. “We should send our findings to Simon and see what he has to say. I’m certain we could telegraph him.”

“I’ve considered that as well, but I didn’t want to bother him.”

“No, it won’t be a bother. More than likely he’s dying from sheer boredom. Besides, I’ve already sent him one or two.” She smiled. This was the longest she and Simon had gone without seeing one another since he was at university. “We’re used to communicating more often, and I miss his counsel. Not only that, but he provides a buffer for me when it comes to our mother, which is a nice reprieve, and I miss him all the more for that reason.”

“Would you accompany me to the pub?” he asked her suddenly.

She opened her mouth, then closed it and watched him for a moment. He seemed to be at war with something in his mind, but she dared not ask what. Drew was a tricky sort, and she knew if she prodded too much he would likely leave and never mention this again. He’d sought her assistance with a medical examination, but this was different. This was doing actual investigative work. It was more than merely discussing theories with him. And it was all far too tempting not to accept. “Most assuredly. I shall probably need to wear a bit of a disguise, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes. Do you have a heavy cloak you could wear, and perhaps a gown that isn’t as nice as the ones you normally wear?”

“I’m certain I can find something appropriate.” She could borrow a dress from her maid if she had to. And Risa was not a gossip, so she need not worry about questions arising from the exchange. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Yes, I shall be ready. You can pick me up here.”

“Very good.” He stood. “Until then, Anna.” He was halfway to the door when he turned around. “Good luck with your studies.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He was quite obviously bothered by something, though she knew not what. But he’d asked her to assist and she could take pleasure in that. She’d always wanted to help Simon, but he’d never agreed. He was her brother, he had to protect her, and so on and so forth. But Drew seemed to value her opinion, and, perhaps, her company.

***

Mi
tchell had ulterior motives for inviting Lucinda to one of his classes. He wanted to show her, firsthand, how talented her daughter was, but he also felt quite certain that his students could benefit from Lucinda’s needlework skills. Of course he had not let her in on that little fact.

He’d got the idea the day before in class while his students practiced their sutures for the upcoming examination. By and large, their work was sloppy and frustratingly slow. How was it that a group of intelligent and knowledgeable women struggled with such a simple task? Then he’d remembered the embroidery sampler form Lucinda’s parlor and decided that she might be a better instructor than he had been.

More than likely, most of his students, Anna included, had some rudimentary embroidery skills. It was a common thing taught to girls in most social classes. In his own teaching of suturing, he’d likely undone their natural abilities with a needle. They merely needed someone to remind them how to wield the needle and thread.

He still wasn’t completely certain she would show up. She hadn’t exactly accepted his invitation when he’d stopped by the day before. Soon his students began to file into the room, but there was no sign of Lucinda. He had no choice but to start his lecture. Ten minutes into it, the door opened and in walked Lucinda. She stopped cold when her eyes landed on the full classroom.

“I beg your pardon; I apologize for interrupting. I was not aware you had a class just now.”

“No apologies are necessary. I intended for you to visit during class.”

“I see,” she said with a frown, though she took a step backward as she spoke, as if she might turn and flee through the door.

Anna stood. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

Mitchell stepped forward. “I invited her. Class, this is Lady Wickersham, Miss Jacobs’s mother.” He came toward Lucinda and brought her further into the room. “I was hoping that she would demonstrate some of her needlework skills for us.”

Lucinda’s eyes rounded, and her mouth opened.

He went over to her, touched her arm gently.

Lucinda’s gaze sharpened. “Do you jest?”

“Not at all. I believe we will all benefit from observing you.”

“Mother, you are quite gifted with a needle and thread,” Anna said, with a gentle smile.

“I don’t know what the two of you are up to,” Lucinda said. “But now everyone in this room has their eyes upon me.” She looked directly at Mitchell, her gaze alight with resolve. “I suppose you have the necessary supplies for me?”

He grinned at her. “Of course I do. Miss Jacobs, please take your seat again.” He motioned for Lucinda to move forward. “Lady Wickersham, I was hoping you’d show us the blanket stitch.”

Her brows rose—whether from the audacity of this request or surprise that he knew the name of the stitch, he wasn’t certain.

Nevertheless, she straightened her shoulders and stepped to the front of the classroom, where he’d laid out all the materials he suspected she would need. At first her movements were stiff and unnatural, but soon she relaxed, as if the very familiarity of the needle in her grasp had relaxed her. He had had a similar experience the first time he’d dissected a cadaver in the classroom. There were some actions your body simply was meant to do.

Soon, many of his students were straining to watch. There were still a few whose expressions had settled into frowns of resistance. Undoubtedly, some of these girls felt embroidery of any kind was beneath the skills of a budding medical student. However, by the time Lucinda had finished her demonstration, nearly every student had softened.

At the end of the class, he handed out scraps of thick felted fabric to each of the girls. “Obviously, this felted wool is a poor substitute for a real patient, but I would like each of you to practice your stitches before next class. With any luck, a few hours of practice will have your sutures in passable shape before the next examination.”

The class filed out, most of the girls looking pleased to have an assignment that would not be so intellectually vigorous. Anna smiled broadly at Doctor Harrison as she left.

“Was that enjoyable for you?” Lucinda asked when they were finally left in the room alone.

“Indeed, you were marvelous,” he replied.

“Ridiculous, I believe is the more appropriate word.” She frowned and bolstered her fists on her hips.

“Whatever are you talking about?” he asked.

“I do realize that I’m not as intelligent as my own children.” She shook her head. “I never have been. They all inherited their father’s brilliant mind. But I have served them well. I married half of them off and I’m doing my damnedest to marry off the other two.” She came closer to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “And then you bring me here and make an utter fool of me.”

“Sweet Lucinda—”

“Don’t you ‘sweet Lucinda’ me. I’m furious with you,” she interrupted.

He grinned. “I can see that. “

“I don’t see why any of this is so humorous for you.”

“Because you, dear lady, missed the point entirely. I invited you here because I believe you have something to offer my students.” He put his hand on her elbow, pulled her a little closer. “I should have hoped I’d made a better impression on you than to make you believe me to be so cruel as to parade you about to mock you.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “Of course I don’t think that poorly of you. I am rather fond of you.” Her cheeks pinkened with her admission.

“I should hope so. As certainly you can tell that I am vastly fond of you.” He went on to explain to her his theory that his own teaching of suture technique had undone the skills that many of his students already had with sewing.

She nodded.

“As to your not being intelligent, that is silly. You are quite intelligent. I cannot speak to whether or not you rival your children’s intelligence, but I do know from being around your youngest daughter and hearing about your other children that all of them have quite obviously inherited your tenacity and drive.” Had his own wife had a fraction of this woman’s strength, she would have fought for her life and not died frail and silent. His voice broke as he continued, “Those are qualities I admire a great deal.”

“Mitchell, I don’t know what to say.”

But he didn’t allow her to say anything as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

***

Drew had to do something until tonight’s visit to the Dog and Duck pub or else he’d drive himself mad waiting to see Anna again. So he decided to follow up on the tobacco thread. He would stop first at Rickman’s tobacco shop, even though Alex and Mia had already investigated it.

He thought it might be appropriate to inquire if there had been any other customers, besides him, who had not made any purchases in the last few weeks. Since they assumed that the Ripper was currently hiding somewhere outside of London, it was safe to also assume that he hadn’t made any tobacco purchases since his attack on Mia.

Mr. Rickman stood behind the counter and smiled broadly when Drew stepped inside.

The stop at Rickman’s was futile. Drew was the only one who was not buying that particular blend of tobacco, aside from the one person Alex had already indicated had moved to America. And there were still shipments being delivered to Buckingham Palace. The queen must be quite sentimental to continue to order her late husband’s blend this long after his death. Of course, perhaps she herself had developed a taste for it and now was the consumer.

Drew thanked the man, then left. He instructed his driver to take him to the other shop. It was one he had been to on only a few occasions, as they also sold opium and the clientele leaned more to the latter. As Drew arrived there was a man half lying, half leaning in the doorway. He looked up at Drew through glazed eyes, then released a wretched cough. Drew skirted him and entered the shop.

The man behind the counter was tall and lean—probably spent too much of his time with his own opium and not enough time with food. For a moment Drew simply stared at him. He himself had stopped eating when he’d been drinking so much and he knew during that time he’d lost weight and his complexion had grown sallow. Had he looked as this man appeared now? Drew took a slow, steady breath.