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.For you.For Vicky.For any of the women I care for.”No.Kate had married for love once, for a desire so all-encompassing and complete she could see nothing else, nor listen to the warnings of those who cared for her and urged caution.She had heard only the sweet words spoken in Andrew Guthrie’s Scottish brogue, and she’d been his.His to torment.His to blame and chastise and rage at until he was sapped of energy.That’s when he would come scratching at her door like a needy pup, begging forgiveness, vowing he’d changed, promising he would never speak a cross word to her again as long as he lived.No.Marrying for love was a foolish notion and only ended well for a lucky few.Kate rejoiced with all her heart for Will and Ada’s good fortune, but she couldn’t believe in such felicity for herself.If she married Solomon Thrumble, there would be no grand passion, but nor would there be any great heartache.He would treat her well, and she would take care of his home and their children, if they were so blessed.Kate had always been good at doing her duty, and she would do her duty with Mr.Thrumble.Leave passion to the young and foolish.Passion.Her mind snagged on the notion and conjured memories that made her warm.The December wind still whipped against the window pane in the entryway, but she could no longer feel its chill.Instead her cheeks flamed, just as they had when Detective Quinn kissed her.Or had she kissed him?“Kate?”“I kissed him.” There it was.The truth—the most thrilling event in her life in ten long years.Ada smiled before staring at Kate quizzically.“Who did you kiss?”“Mrs.Guthrie, thank goodness!”Solomon Thrumble’s diminutive frame filled the sitting room doorway, and his confused expression matched Ada’s.“I am sorry to be late.I’m just going upstairs to change.I’ll be back down directly.”Without waiting for a response, Kate started up the stairs again.“Mrs.Guthrie.” Mr.Thrumble’s imploring tone stalled her.“We will have a moment to speak, just the two of us.Won’t we? I am quite anxious to know your feelings on a topic of great interest to us both.”Kate couldn’t look at him.Guilt and desire warred with her sense of duty, and she feared he’d read all of it on her face.“Of course, Mr.Thrumble.I’ll just be a moment.Would you wait for me in the sitting room?”She paused at the top step, waiting on his reply.It was long in coming.“Yes, of course.” His voice was lighter, thinner, as if she had deflated him and all his hopes.Again.****“Next one over.Up the stairs.Number four, I fink.”The man at the Flower and Dean Street address proved more helpful than Ben expected after an hour of knocking on doors.He hadn’t found Rose at Fieldgrate Street, but a woman there directed him to a Hessian Court.No luck there either.One rumor about Rose’s whereabouts led to another, and he was following a rabbit trail more than conducting an investigation.Despite his suspension and the fact he had no business conducting an official investigation at all, finding Rose was still urgent.If she’d truly encountered the Ripper, Ben needed to know every detail.And even if she hadn’t, he needed the satisfaction of knowing the girl’s fate.Mrs.Guthrie had come asking for his help, and he’d been unable to give it.The notion of disappointing her made his gut turn much more effectively than the tepid gruel he’d consumed just after the noon hour at The Ten Bells.Making his way up the rickety stairs, he tripped on what he initially took to be a bundle of rags or discarded clothing.“Oy!”The child’s angry cry set Ben’s pulse galloping, and the bundle unraveled to reveal a boy who looked to be about ten years of age, though the grime on his face obscured his features.“Sorry about that.Do you know where I might find Rose?”“Wouldn’t tell ya if I did.”With that the boy pulled what was left of his ragged collar up around his neck, skulked down the stairs, and dashed out onto Flower and Dean Street.“Right.” That was the kind of response Ben had come to expect from the folks he’d met over the course of the morning.It was best Mrs.Guthrie hadn’t accompanied him.No reason for her to join him on the rabbit trail.Never mind that he missed the rich timbre of her voice.Never mind that he found himself craving her soothing scent.Never mind that since she’d gone his patience had fled too.He was more likely to bark at the next person he questioned than they were to send him on a useful lead.He reached the door marked with the number four and knocked lightly.Rolling his head, he spread his feet and assumed a posture that planted his weight firmly, ready for anything.The door swung wide and a young woman observed him from the other side of the threshold.It’d been awhile since he’d seen Rose, but this girl looked much as he remembered her.The resemblance made hope flare, a warm ember in his chest.A dingy patch of bandage at her neck and bruises marring the skin around her eyes fit Mrs.Guthrie’s description of Rose’s injuries, but it was the crooked, toothy smile that made relief turn Ben’s knees to jelly.“Rose.”“Well, if it isn’t Detective Sergeant Quinn.Been far too long since I’ve seen yer ‘andsome face.”Ben ducked his head to hide a grin.“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to find you, Rose.You gave Mrs.Guthrie and the ladies at the Fieldgate Clinic quite a fright when you disappeared last night.”“She’s aw’right, isn’t she? That Mrs.what’s her name? I never liked the notion of her going to The Ten Bells.And when she never returned with ya—”“The fault there lies with me, I’m afraid.I was a bit far gone last evening.I’m sorry I couldn’t come and speak to you.It seems you’ve an interesting story to tell.Shall we discuss it now?”The young woman took her turn ducking her head at Ben’s declaration, and a soul-deep disappointment replaced his jubilance at finding her.She would lead him no closer to finding the Ripper than the boy he’d tripped over in the stairwell.“Mrs.Guthrie is well.And eager to hear of your circumstances.I fancy she wishes to help you.”“Wot? Her? And ‘ow might she ‘elp the likes o’ me?”“I have no idea.But she seems a rather resourceful sort of woman.”She flashed the jagged grin again.“That she does, detective.That she does.”“May I come in, Rose? I need to take down your statement.I’d like to know exactly what happened to you last night.”Rose shuffled her foot against the frame of the door, rubbing at the chipped paint and splintered wood [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.For you.For Vicky.For any of the women I care for.”No.Kate had married for love once, for a desire so all-encompassing and complete she could see nothing else, nor listen to the warnings of those who cared for her and urged caution.She had heard only the sweet words spoken in Andrew Guthrie’s Scottish brogue, and she’d been his.His to torment.His to blame and chastise and rage at until he was sapped of energy.That’s when he would come scratching at her door like a needy pup, begging forgiveness, vowing he’d changed, promising he would never speak a cross word to her again as long as he lived.No.Marrying for love was a foolish notion and only ended well for a lucky few.Kate rejoiced with all her heart for Will and Ada’s good fortune, but she couldn’t believe in such felicity for herself.If she married Solomon Thrumble, there would be no grand passion, but nor would there be any great heartache.He would treat her well, and she would take care of his home and their children, if they were so blessed.Kate had always been good at doing her duty, and she would do her duty with Mr.Thrumble.Leave passion to the young and foolish.Passion.Her mind snagged on the notion and conjured memories that made her warm.The December wind still whipped against the window pane in the entryway, but she could no longer feel its chill.Instead her cheeks flamed, just as they had when Detective Quinn kissed her.Or had she kissed him?“Kate?”“I kissed him.” There it was.The truth—the most thrilling event in her life in ten long years.Ada smiled before staring at Kate quizzically.“Who did you kiss?”“Mrs.Guthrie, thank goodness!”Solomon Thrumble’s diminutive frame filled the sitting room doorway, and his confused expression matched Ada’s.“I am sorry to be late.I’m just going upstairs to change.I’ll be back down directly.”Without waiting for a response, Kate started up the stairs again.“Mrs.Guthrie.” Mr.Thrumble’s imploring tone stalled her.“We will have a moment to speak, just the two of us.Won’t we? I am quite anxious to know your feelings on a topic of great interest to us both.”Kate couldn’t look at him.Guilt and desire warred with her sense of duty, and she feared he’d read all of it on her face.“Of course, Mr.Thrumble.I’ll just be a moment.Would you wait for me in the sitting room?”She paused at the top step, waiting on his reply.It was long in coming.“Yes, of course.” His voice was lighter, thinner, as if she had deflated him and all his hopes.Again.****“Next one over.Up the stairs.Number four, I fink.”The man at the Flower and Dean Street address proved more helpful than Ben expected after an hour of knocking on doors.He hadn’t found Rose at Fieldgrate Street, but a woman there directed him to a Hessian Court.No luck there either.One rumor about Rose’s whereabouts led to another, and he was following a rabbit trail more than conducting an investigation.Despite his suspension and the fact he had no business conducting an official investigation at all, finding Rose was still urgent.If she’d truly encountered the Ripper, Ben needed to know every detail.And even if she hadn’t, he needed the satisfaction of knowing the girl’s fate.Mrs.Guthrie had come asking for his help, and he’d been unable to give it.The notion of disappointing her made his gut turn much more effectively than the tepid gruel he’d consumed just after the noon hour at The Ten Bells.Making his way up the rickety stairs, he tripped on what he initially took to be a bundle of rags or discarded clothing.“Oy!”The child’s angry cry set Ben’s pulse galloping, and the bundle unraveled to reveal a boy who looked to be about ten years of age, though the grime on his face obscured his features.“Sorry about that.Do you know where I might find Rose?”“Wouldn’t tell ya if I did.”With that the boy pulled what was left of his ragged collar up around his neck, skulked down the stairs, and dashed out onto Flower and Dean Street.“Right.” That was the kind of response Ben had come to expect from the folks he’d met over the course of the morning.It was best Mrs.Guthrie hadn’t accompanied him.No reason for her to join him on the rabbit trail.Never mind that he missed the rich timbre of her voice.Never mind that he found himself craving her soothing scent.Never mind that since she’d gone his patience had fled too.He was more likely to bark at the next person he questioned than they were to send him on a useful lead.He reached the door marked with the number four and knocked lightly.Rolling his head, he spread his feet and assumed a posture that planted his weight firmly, ready for anything.The door swung wide and a young woman observed him from the other side of the threshold.It’d been awhile since he’d seen Rose, but this girl looked much as he remembered her.The resemblance made hope flare, a warm ember in his chest.A dingy patch of bandage at her neck and bruises marring the skin around her eyes fit Mrs.Guthrie’s description of Rose’s injuries, but it was the crooked, toothy smile that made relief turn Ben’s knees to jelly.“Rose.”“Well, if it isn’t Detective Sergeant Quinn.Been far too long since I’ve seen yer ‘andsome face.”Ben ducked his head to hide a grin.“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to find you, Rose.You gave Mrs.Guthrie and the ladies at the Fieldgate Clinic quite a fright when you disappeared last night.”“She’s aw’right, isn’t she? That Mrs.what’s her name? I never liked the notion of her going to The Ten Bells.And when she never returned with ya—”“The fault there lies with me, I’m afraid.I was a bit far gone last evening.I’m sorry I couldn’t come and speak to you.It seems you’ve an interesting story to tell.Shall we discuss it now?”The young woman took her turn ducking her head at Ben’s declaration, and a soul-deep disappointment replaced his jubilance at finding her.She would lead him no closer to finding the Ripper than the boy he’d tripped over in the stairwell.“Mrs.Guthrie is well.And eager to hear of your circumstances.I fancy she wishes to help you.”“Wot? Her? And ‘ow might she ‘elp the likes o’ me?”“I have no idea.But she seems a rather resourceful sort of woman.”She flashed the jagged grin again.“That she does, detective.That she does.”“May I come in, Rose? I need to take down your statement.I’d like to know exactly what happened to you last night.”Rose shuffled her foot against the frame of the door, rubbing at the chipped paint and splintered wood [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]