I swallowed, realizing that I would need to explain the kiss and how it had come to be, but that also meant I would have to tell her about Berner Street.
“Please don’t be angry at me.”
“Why would I be angry? I’ve never met Austen, but I feel as if I know him. And he’s a wonderful man, Kathryn. Honorable and clearly devoted to—”
“He didn’t kiss me out of passion or desire—although—” My face began to burn as a group of three ladies walked toward us on the edge of the dance floor.
I didn’t want to be interrupted now that I’d begun to tell her, so I slipped my arm around her and led her to a couch in the corner.
“What is it?” she asked, taking a seat next to me.
Thankfully, there was no one close enough to hear our conversation in the corner. Papa was on the opposite side of the ballroom, speaking to Charles Lindbergh. No doubt they were planning their trip to Berlin again, now that the Munich Agreement had been signed, and it seemed all was peaceful in Germany. For now.
“The kiss started out as a diversion, but it quickly turned to something more,” I said. “So quickly, in fact, I’m still reeling.”
“A diversion?” She frowned. “From what?”
It wouldn’t pay to avoid the truth, so I whispered, “Jack the Ripper.”
She stared at me and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
I told her we had gone to Berner Street to try to get a look at Jack and how he and Elizabeth had unexpectedly come our way.
“Before we’d arrived in Whitechapel,” I explained, “Austen had warned me to do as he said. To run if he said run, to hide if he said hide. Neither of us expected that he might have to kiss me to blend in. I think he was just as surprised as me at first—but then, I realized how much I liked it, and I drew him closer. The worst part is that neither of us said a word to each other on the carriage ride home.” The heat in my cheeks intensified just thinking about it. “When we arrived at Wilton Crescent, he walked me to my door and I turned to him, waiting for him to say something—but when he didn’t, I stepped inside and had a good cry.”
Mama was still staring at me. “You went looking for Jack the Ripper?”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Of course that’s all I can say!” She rarely got angry at me, especially in public, but she was upset now. “Austen’s kiss pales in comparison, Kathryn. What are you thinking? You’re talking about the most notorious killer of all time. What if he saw you?”
I pressed my lips together.
Hers parted. “No.” She shook her head. “He didn’t see you, did he?”
“I don’t know for certain. It was dark, and I couldn’t see hisfeatures, so I don’t think he could see ours, but he looked in our direction and knew we were standing there watching.”
She blinked several times, as if she could hardly believe what I was saying. “What if he recognized you? What if he comes for you next?”
“There are over five million people in London in 1888. What are the odds that he knows me? Besides, there were other people who saw him, like the grape seller, and none of them become victims.” I was trying to convince myself as much as I wanted to convince her. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“You can’t be one of his victims,” she said, quietly. “It’s not part of the original history, and if you’re killed there before your time, then who will save Mary? Not to mention that it would be a deplorable and gruesome way to die.”
“I will be fine.” I tried to reassure us both. “And if I’m not there to save Mary, at least Austen still can.”
“And risk losing his own life?” Her words struck a chord deep within me. It wasn’t a risk I wanted him to take.
“You’re right,” I said. “I will do my best to stay safe in 1888.”
“And here,” Mama added, clearly trying to rein in her frustration with me. “Don’t forget to stay safe here.”
I was finally able to muster a smile, though it wasn’t big. “Why wouldn’t I be safe here?”
“Because you’re so headstrong that you charge into battle without a second thought?” she asked. “Or you get so engrossed in your work that you start to neglect the relationships around you?” She put her hand on my cheek. “Or you think that something can’t be done unless you’re the one to do it? There are a dozen different ways you could get yourself into trouble here. Just be careful, sweetheart.”
I laid my hand over hers as my eye caught on Calan McCaffrey and Sir Rothschild, speaking together in the opposite corner of the ballroom. Their faces were grim.
What if something had happened at the museum? By the looks of them, any number of things could have gone wrong.
