Edward stood and began to pace as though he needed to stretch his legs, but I recognized that nervous agitation. The Beast was there, lurking just below the surface. “Yes, I wondered when we might meet each other,” he said quietly. “From what Lucy has said, we seem to have some interests in common.”
Lucy clapped her hands. “Oh yes, I forgot to tell you! Henry was interested in something about chemistry . . . that was it, wasn’t it? I told him you were much better at science than any boy I know.”
Edward’s haunted eyes stayed on me. They said everything his voice couldn’t. He hated his dark other half—the Beast—and the terrible things it led him to do. Even now, his eyes pleaded with me for help.
Sitting here, all I could think about was the bodies in the morgue. Four people no longer breathed because of him. He’d killed people I cared about, like Alice. Innocent people. And yet, wasn’t I as good as a murderer myself? Father might still be alive if I hadn’t opened that door to his laboratory for Jaguar.
I couldn’t bear this, having tea with a murderer. I clutched the sofa’s arm, rubbing my thumb against the rough upholstery seam to stay connected to the present.
Outside, the sun was just past its zenith.
“I should go,” I choked. Lucy and her aunt looked at me, surprised. “I didn’t tell the professor when I’d be home.”
“No, you don’t,” Lucy said. “You’re not running off without even touching your tea. If the professor is in need of you, I’m certain this is the first place he’ll look. Oh my, Juliet, do you feel all right? You’ve gone pale.”
Aunt Edith said something droll about her own constitution and Lucy answered back smartly, and they started arguing again.
“Drink some tea, Miss Moreau,” Edward said quietly. “You’ll soon feel better.”
Lucy and her aunt kept arguing, oblivious to us. I tried to pick up the delicate cup, but it was like my hands were paws, my fingers too thick. It trembled so badly I had to set it down.
Edward leaned on the back of the chair opposite me, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “Have you seen the hedge maze in the garden, Miss Moreau? There’s a wonderful view from the window.” His eyes flickered toward the sun-drenched windowpanes. It was a good ten paces from where Lucy and her aunt argued—well out of earshot. He wanted to speak in private. When I hesitated, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Please, Juliet.”
There was such tightly controlled desperation in his words that I set down my tea, shaking, and glanced at Lucy. They were talking of the grand Christmas tree that would soon be delivered in preparation for the masquerade. I stood and walked to the window with unsteady steps, Edward right behind me. It was a beautiful winter’s day outside, the hedges still evergreen, not a cloud in the sky.
I kept my voice at a whisper. “If you dare to hurt Lucy—”
“I won’t,” he said quickly, matching my hushed tone. “I would never hurt her. I have some measure of control over—”
“Henry!” Lucy called behind us. “Henry, come tell Aunt Edith how we met that day in the rain. She wants to hear, and you know I’ve no patience for storytelling.”
His smile to her was artificial, though not unkind. “One moment, darling.”
When his eyes returned to mine, the false smile had vanished. “I swear to you I mean Lucy no harm. I wouldn’t ever let myself be around her if I thought the Beast might get free. I have a small measure of control over him; not enough to prevent the transformations, nor the crimes he commits, but I can delay them.”
I studied the deep crease in his forehead. I’d spent weeks with Edward at sea and on Father’s island, ignorant of his darker nature, and he had never hurt me, always managing to curb his other half’s cravings until he could release the Beast on some other poor victim. Perhaps he did have some measure of control over his transformations, but all I could picture was the cadaver room full of bodies.
“How did you escape the island? I thought you were dead—”
“I’m trying to cure myself, Juliet.” His eyes were hooded, his body tense. “I’m close. I just need to identify one missing ingredient in the serum.”
Here was the Edward I knew, the young man whose eyes were like a mirror to my own. “What kind of cure?” I whispered, rubbing my own knuckles, which were already beginning to ache.
“I have a plan, but I need a little more time.”
“You’ve been in London for a while; you should have come to me sooner.”
“I didn’t dare involve you. I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid direct contact with you, afraid the Beast might learn some information he could use later to harm you. I’ve settled for slips of news from Lucy about you. She cares about you a great deal, you know; she speaks of you often.” His throat tightened. “It didn’t mean that I didn’t want to see you. In fact, I wanted to see you quite badly.”
The look in his eyes gave me pause. Nothing of the Beast’s glowing yellow eyes lurked there now, though what I saw frightened me nearly as much.
Desire.
I looked away, wishing my cheeks weren’t turning pink. It seemed Edward’s infatuation with me hadn’t lessened with the passing months.
“Meet me somewhere,” I said, quick and low. “You must tell me what is going on.”
He shook his head. “I don’t dare. I never wanted to involve you until I was cured.”
“I don’t care what you want! People are dying, Edward.” I darted a glance at Lucy and dropped my voice lower. “And we both know exactly who is responsible. I’m already involved, don’t you see? I was involved since the day the sailors pulled you out of the ocean and onto the Curitiba. You must agree to meet me, and tell me everything. If you don’t, I’ll expose you. Lucy’s other suitor is the detective leading the investigation of the Wolf of Whitechapel. I can have him here in minutes.”