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The screen holds for a moment on the images of three women. All around the same age. There’s a mean look about their expressions. Cold and haunting.
And I remember that night when I went down to Henry’s office. The way he was sitting there, in the dark, staring at the photo on his screen and in his file. All three of these women were in there. I recognise their faces. I…
I made light of it and the way he was so quick to get rid of them. To distract me. And that man—the police commissioner—the one that Mary keeps sweet.
“We keep him extra sweet, and he buries their evils.” The words she spoke to me that night we sat at the bar in Hush whisper in my ears again.
“Eve!” Jess clicks her fingers in front of my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go,” I tell her, standing on my shaky legs and grabbing my backpack from the back of the chair.
“But you haven’t finished your tea or had anythin—”
“I know why now. I know…” My stuttering words crack as realisation dawns on me.
It’s him. He did it. He killed those women.
His Grace, Henry Sloane, the Duke of Gloucester. My Henry. Is the Ripper.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EVE
“Open the door, Henry!” I grit between my clenched teeth as I wrench at the door handle of the red suite, clenching the order of service under my arm tighter so I don’t lose it. I’m certain that if it fell on this floor, it would swallow it up.
“His Grace isn’t in there.” Percival appears behind me. How does he do that? How does he appear out of nowhere all the time? It feels like he teleports around this place, constantly watching everything that’s happening, always making sure that everything looks perfect on the surface.
“Where is he, then?”
I just can’t catch my breath. The cab ride to my flat and then here was fraught with endless wonderings of why he would kill those women. Not a single one adds up. I know there’s more to it, and I know whatever reason he’s pushing me away is to do with it.
“I want to talk to him,” I tell Percival as he tries to usher me away.
Tonight, he’s not getting rid of me so easily, and if Henry doesn’t see me, I’ll come back tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll camp out outside his gates until he has no choice but to face me again.
“Eve, things are a bit tense at the moment and—”
“I know what he did, Percival.” I slam the order of service to his chest. “I know he killed her. I know he killed the others too. I saw his file. I saw—”
“Shut up!” The vicious order freezes me to the spot as he pushes me through a panel in the wall and tugs me down a secret passage with him. “If you want to keep your head on your neck, you’ll forget about all of this. You know nothing, Eve. Nothing.”
“On the contrary, Percy, I know enough. I’ve seen enough. If Henry won’t talk to me, I’ll find someone out there that will.”
It’s not true. As horrified as I am, I still want to protect him. I love him too much to be the one to hurt him. And I know him. I know that there has to be a reason for all of it. The killing and his distance.
“You stupid girl, you know so little. So very little.” Grief and anger paint his face into a twisted glare. “You’ll destroy him.”
No, I won’t. But he doesn’t know that, and right now, the only thing I care about is getting to Henry. “It’s only fair when he’s destroying me.” That’s the honest-to-God truth.
“I think you should leave now, Miss Cameron.” Percival opens the door at the bottom of the dark stairwell and gestures for me to do as he says.
“Does he know that you had me lie to him all this time?” His eyes widen on mine. Shock pulls at his brows while an indignant sneer curls his lips. “What else are you hiding from him?”
Stepping out of the old servants’ passage, I snatch the order of service from him and head up the stairs to the lounge, where my violin is already set up. Mary was kind enough to see to that when I walked through the door.
Maybe it’s time to up the ante. Tugging at the top of my dress, I pull the first few buttons open until the sleeves slip off my shoulders and my boobs threaten to fall out. There’s a lot more of me on show than I’m comfortable with. But needs must.
If I can’t get to the mountain, then the mountain must come to me.
