A laugh came from deep in his throat, and I was glad for the mask that hid the face that was and wasn’t Edward at the same time.
“You mean Moreau’s hunting dog? He’s certainly nothing I fear, and from what I saw in the garden, it seems he means nothing to you, either.” He leaned in close enough that I could feel his unnatural heat, as though a powerful fever burned from within. “You spurned his advances, my love.”
I twisted to look back to the crowd, but it was still chaotic, still filled with screams, and Montgomery nowhere.
“You didn’t want his kisses, did you? You wanted mine,” growled the Beast, low and seductive.
He leaned forward as though to kiss me, and I shoved him hard, but he only laughed, a game between two lovers, and pinned me against the wall. The corset ribbing stabbed into me, and I pressed a hand to my stomach. The Beast felt the stiff corset too, and whispered, “You don’t belong like this, trussed up. Like me, you’re too wild to be caged. Why don’t you take it off?”
Hearing those same words Edward had once spoken, in his innocence, only made the pain sharper. I gritted my teeth. For the first time I noticed a small handful of mistletoe hung from a red ribbon over our heads.
“It’s my lips you want to feel, isn’t it?” he breathed.
I felt his breath closer, smelling of rum and meat, so unlike Edward.
“My love,” he said, drawing the word out as though he could taste it, as though he yearned to swallow it whole.
Now.
I dug my elbow into the place beneath his rib where I’d stabbed him the night before. He howled in pain as I pulled away, restricted in my stiff clothes, frantically stumbling back into the ballroom. The fallen Christmas tree spanned the entire room, cutting me off from the doorway.
“Juliet!”
Montgomery stood on the stairs, searching the crowd for me. I raced toward him as he rushed down the stairs and climbed over the fallen fir tree in a few graceful movements.
“The Beast found me,” I panted. “I wounded him, but it won’t slow him down for long.”
“Long enough, I hope.” He grabbed my hands and helped to pull me over the Christmas tree, which smelled of rich sap from broken branches that pulled at my silk dress. I tore the skirts away, freeing myself, and once my feet were on the polished floor again he pulled me toward the door. I caught a glimpse of Lucy’s green satin dress bent over her mother, with Inspector Newcastle standing close to protect her.
“I can’t leave Lucy here,” I breathed.
“She’ll be safe. He’s not after her.” Montgomery pulled me to my feet, ready to drag me out despite my protests. Lucy turned at the last moment and saw me. Her frightened lips parted, and I thought of how I wished more than anything that she wasn’t wrapped up in this.
But before I could call to her, Montgomery pulled me away toward the door. His blond hair had come loose and he looked half wild, a savage amidst royalty. “Juliet, we must go now!”
I had only a second to look at Lucy. “Stay close to John,” I yelled. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m sorry—”
She was swallowed by the crowd. Montgomery’s hand tightened over mine as he pushed through the partygoers toward the grand entrance.
“Did he hurt you?” Montgomery asked.
“He tried to kiss me.”
Montgomery threw me an alarmed look as we raced up the staircase among the masked people. We moved so fast I had to raise my skirts practically to my knees.
We reached the top of the stairs and hurried out with the rest of the finely dressed guests. The night was freezing. It was late enough that no carriages were out save the ones belonging to the attendees, too early for the bakers and early-morning vendors. Montgomery picked a direction and started down the street at a quick pace. I had to jog in my tight slippers to keep up with him.
As we were dashing away from Lucy’s house, my slippers soaked and torn, I realized I still had pollen from the little white flower under my fingernails.
I wiped the pollen off on my dress. I’d been a fool to keep the first flower. Now Lucy—and Elizabeth, and everyone at that party—was in danger. Would I find one of their names in the newspapers the next morning, listed among the Wolf of Whitechapel’s victims?
I had promised Edward I would help him.
But a promise to a murderer was a dangerous thing.
TWENTY-THREE
WE ONLY SLOWED WHEN we reached Piccadilly Circus, where the streets were filled with people no matter the hour. I tore my hand from Montgomery’s and doubled over against a lamppost.
“I need to catch my breath,” I gasped.
Montgomery paced along the curb, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. His eyes went to every shadow as though Edward might be there.
“We have to go back for Lucy. She’s in danger,” I said.
“The Beast wouldn’t kill in public. He’s a devil, but he’s no fool. All this is nothing more than a game to him.”
I thought of the Beast dragging me beneath the mistletoe, wanting a stolen kiss. A game? Perhaps, but the deadliest game I’d ever known.
“What exactly did he say to you?” Montgomery asked.
“He saw you and me together in the garden. I think he was jealous.”
“Damn it all.” Montgomery kept pacing the length of the curb, bristling whenever a carriage passed.
“If we aren’t going back for Lucy, then I’ve got to go home. The professor and Elizabeth will wonder where I am,” I said. “And I have to be certain Elizabeth made it home safely.”