Page 3 of Taken By the Ripper
The man held a black top hat beneath one arm, and in the other hand he held an imposing cane with a silver-plated knob at the end.
And tucked into his side with her arm through his…
Was Mazie.
The man’s lips lifted in a grin almost as sharp as his outfit. “The name is Detective Claude La Cour,” he said in a heavy French accent. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
C
lara stood frozen in the doorway with a slack jaw and dumb expression as she took in what could not possibly be a real person standing before her. It wasn’t just his striking appearance, but there was a presence about him that demanded attention. It was almost like if she glanced away for a single moment, the shine of his aura would dim, and she’d miss the shooting star in the sky entirely.
“Ah-ah-ah,” she stuttered as she finally came back to her wits and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
Though, she had no idea why he’d decided to knock rather than walk in like most people did. And with Mazie clinging to his arm like a love-stricken puppy. The girl batted her eyelashes and stared at him with doe eyes the size of the moon. Judging by the man’s look of indifference…
He was accustomed to constant female attention.
“Would you like some tea?” she thought to ask after her manners caught up with her.
“Decorum demands I oblige.”
Again, Clara stood frozen to the spot. But this time from uncertainty. Rather than meeting her eye, he scrutinized the room, missing no detail, his gaze lingering a little longer on the hallway leading to the hospital wing of the estate. He leaned heavily on his cane while tapping his foot, Mazie all butforgotten where she spoke excitedly to him and hung on his arm like a primate desperate for attention.
Finally, she nodded and gestured down a second hallway. “This way. Most of the estate is occupied by patients, but there are rooms set aside for family and guests only.”
The prominent limp of each stride and the tap, tap, tap of his cane followed her as she led him down a hallway. She felt his intense stare on her back as they entered the private drawing room overlooking what used to be a mesmerizing garden teeming with exotic plants and flowers. Now everything was overgrown and unmanageable when the Thompson family no longer employed servants to manage the yard. Several pots and a weed-filled garden with medicinal herbs gave her a small measure of comfort of what her yard used to look like. But it was almost unrecognizable. Just like the rest of her life.
The detective took a seat beside one of the windows facing the herb garden, and she couldn’t help but notice he claimed one of the armchairs rather than the sofa as if to put space between Mazie and himself.
Laughter almost escaped her when Mazie scooted her own armchair closer anyway.Almostbecause the man’s presence continued to rattle her, even as she disappeared into the kitchen to prepare tea for her intimidating guest.
When she returned, she hated how the china rattled with her shaking hands as she placed a cup in front of him.
Which he didn’t even touch, let alone glance at. His gaze was fixed on the yard outside the window, a disapproving expression on his face. Or, perhaps, his face always looked like that. A hard man to please, it seemed.
“I apologize for the state of the property,” she said, picking up a teacup of her own. But when her hands continued to rattle, and the porcelain clinked together, she abandoned the featentirely. “I am often so busy with nursing that I don’t have time to take care of the yard. It’s mostly my sisters’ task.”
“Then they don’t do a very good job of it, do they?”
Heat flamed in her cheeks, and she clasped her hands in her lap to hide the insistent trembling. Something about this man unsettled her. She wasn’t usually the cowering intimidated sort.
“Oh, come now,” Mazie giggled, flirtatiously touching his arm. “I have better things to do than weed and prune an overgrown garden. Like spend time with handsome gentlemen. Tell me more about yourself.”
Clara pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath to prevent herself from saying anything she might regret. After years of trying to raise her sisters into respectful young women, this was the fruits of her labor?
She diverted the topic back to the situation at hand. “Is there something I can help you with, Detective?”
“You’ve converted your home into a hospital,” he commented. “Has it always been this way?”
Shaking her head, she replied, “My father had his own practice elsewhere years ago. But I’ve since sold the building and now operate in our home.”
He tipped his head toward her, and for what seemed like the very first time, he glanced in her direction. “I am looking for the physician in charge.”
Her gaze immediately jumped to his injured leg, which earned her a scowl.
“It’s not for me,” he scoffed. “It’s for a case I am working on. Where is he?”
“If you need assistance, I am happy to provide.”
