“Oh my Lord, I think I’m going to faint,” her mother gasped, swaying on her feet. The Duchess of Wentworth hurried to her side. The duke grinned at her father as if everything was playing out to a satisfactory conclusion. Angelica wondered if perhaps the man was cracked.
Angelica steadied her mother and craned her neck to see the vampire stroll in, impeccable in his evening finery. Her heart thudded in her chest at the sight of his beautiful but dangerous visage. Unbidden, her hand went up to her neck, which tingled in remembrance of his bite.
The whispers echoed through the ballroom like sinister wings of bats.
“That blackguard!” her father growled. His narrow frame shook with fury. “I am going to call him out.”
“Jacob, please!” her mother pleaded, her face was as white as Angelica’s ball gown. “Do not do such a thing. You will only throw more fire on this dreadful scandal!”
“Why not? All is lost anyway. I intend to give them something else to talk about. It is my duty to demand satisfaction and defend my daughter’s honor.” He squeezed Angelica’s hand and approached the duke, likely to the Quality’s everlasting amusement.
Angelica clutched her mother’s arm with numb fingers, silently praying. Please, do not let him hurt my papa. The Wentworths remained silent. Perhaps they had heard the gossip after all. If so, she owed them her eternal gratitude for their kindness.
A crowd gathered around and drowned out her father’s angry tirade with excited murmurs. To the disappointment of their audience, the two men went out the doors side by side, their backs straight as pikestaffs. Their figures were barely visible under the meager light of the lanterns strung over the lawn.
“Surely they do not intend to duel here?” Lady Cavendish put a shaky hand to her throat at such a momentous breach of propriety. However, Angelica swore she could see a glint of excitement in her eyes.
“Of course not, my lady,” the Duke of Wentworth drawled. “Rapiers and pistols were not part of the recommended dress, after all. The worst they can do is engage in fisticuffs.”
Lady Cavendish shrieked at a passing servant to fetch her some hartshorn.
“Oh, I wish I could see what is happening.” Margaret’s voice was shrill with panic.
“It would take a shipman’s winch to lift the crowd out of the way,” Angelica replied drily, trying to hide her panic.
The Duchess of Wentworth chuckled as she fanned Margaret. “I admire a woman whose wit can hold up to any situation.”
In a surprisingly short time, her father and the duke returned. Burnrath possessed a satisfied expression, while Angelica’s father appeared stunned. What had happened outside?
“Dear God, he’s coming this way,” her mother gasped, retrieving her own fan. “Hasn’t he done enough damage?”
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as the Duke of Burnrath approached her. His gaze locked on Angelica while his lips curved in an enigmatic smile. Her chin lifted in attempt to deny her weak knees.
The whole world seemed to hold its breath as he bent to one knee and placed a hand over his heart.
Angelica frowned as her mind swam in confusion. What in the blazes is he doing? Surely he doesn’t think an apology will repair matters in the slightest.
“Miss Winthrop,” the vampire began, holding her motionless with his compelling husky voice. “Ever since I first saw you, I have been enchanted. And when I found you injured outside in front of my house and had the opportunity to speak with you, my heart was touched. I have not been able to rid you from my thoughts since. Would you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
The gasps from all around hurt Angelica’s ears as they nearly shook the large chamber. Her stays became a cruel vise, forbidding the slightest breath of air into her lungs. The blood roared in her ears. Black and white spots danced in her vision.
“Of course she will,” Margaret announced cheerfully, then immediately fainted into Papa’s arms. The Duchess of Wentworth rummaged in her reticule for smelling salts. Lady Cavendish elbowed her way through the masses for a better look.
“But… you are a vampire,” Angelica blurted out. Good God, is this truly happening?
Titters and guffaws broke out. “Surely you do not believe that nonsense, my dear,” the Duke of Wentworth said, his brow creasing with worry.
Angelica blushed as she realized she’d spoken aloud. Burnrath laughed, but there was a warning glint in his eye.
“I was only jesting, Your Grace,” she said faintly and reached out to help him to his feet. He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.