Page 17 of Taken By the Ripper
“The older of the two. Mazie.”
A frown pulled on his mouth, and he remained silent for a few moments as he scribbled notes down in his little book. “I’m not answering that.”
“Why not?”
“Because no one will like the answer, and if I can avoid making you abhor me, I will.”
His frown seemed to transfer to her as she cleaned and packed up her medical instruments. If Mazie wanted to escape Whitechapel, all she needed to do was bat her eyelashes and look pretty. Any wealthy man might snatch her up in a heartbeat. Unless his name was Claude La Cour—a man married to his work.
La Cour sighed and finally tucked his notebook into his pocket. “Mazie is a lovely young woman who is nearlyhalf my ageand sticks to my clothing like an unwanted burr. She has a place somewhere, but not with me. Does that satisfy you?”
“Blunt, a little bit rude, and to the point? Yes, it does.” She placed her supplies in her basket and tucked a cloth around them. She wouldn’t tell her sister what he’d said, but the matter was done. He wasn’t interested, and that was that.
Prolonged silence filled the morgue as she untied her apron and folded it neatly on top of the basket. For a moment, she thought the detective had nothing else to say on the matter, but then he spoke.
“Are you going to ask what I think ofyou?”
Her head snapped up to find his intense blue eyes focused on her, almost as if he’d set his sight on an elk during a hunt and refused to look away for a single moment lest it bound away in fright.
In truth, her own legs itched to leap away, to escape this foreignly impossible situation. Especially when she wasn’t quite certain what he was trying to accomplish with such a question.
“I can imagine quite well what you think of me,” she said as she looped the handle of the basket around her arm. “I’ve heard it time and again. Poor Miss Thompson. A mother to her sisters. No marriage prospects of her own. Can’t lure a man with sucha disrespectful position for a woman.” She huffed and turned away. “I don’t want to hear it again. Not from you.”
It would only cause more humiliation coming from his blunt and honest mouth.
“I don’t think that.” He sighed. “I know I came across that way when we first met. But I admire your dedication. I respect your commitment to your trade. And—”
She spun around and pointed a finger at his face. “What do you want, Detective? If you’re attempting to butter me up, save it for someone who will fall for your charm. If you want something, then just say it.”
“I wish to call on you again!” he blurted.
Her eyes widened. Slowly, her hand fell to her side in disbelief. Even the coroner slipped out of the room as if mortified on her behalf. The only time a man came to see her was when they wanted drugs or to sleep in the infirmary for the night. But to call on her? As in courtship?
“What do you really want?” she rasped. “A favor? Drugs? Another glimpse of my sister?”
He captured her hand in a movement too quick for her to pull away and cupped it between both of his. “Tea and biscuits in your drawing room?”
“With Mazie present, I presume.”
He shook his head. “Just you and I.”
She stared dumbfoundedly at him, trying to register his words and intentions. The handsome, hotshot paranormal detective from Paris wanted to courther? She didn’t believe it. What was his angle?
“I-I-I should go.” She tore her hand out of his grip and backed up, searching frantically for the door behind her. When she located the door handle, she turned with enough force to stumble outside.
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“No! I mean, it’s a nice, warm day. And I would like the exercise.”
“Clara—”
The use of her given name spurred her panic faster, and she spun around and walked quickly away from him even when her legs itched to run. Surely, he was not truly sincere with his intentions toward her.
She refused for a man to humiliate her again.
Refused!
Unfortunately, her confusion and fluster followed her all the way home, and it refused to unlatch from her mind as she spent the remainder of the day with her patients. Alone. Because that was her fate. That was whathehad said. Someone who had courted her years ago who had thought he could convince her away from her profession to become a mother and housewife. Andhewas right.
