“I do so admire a woman with a healthy appetite,” he said with a wry smile as if he were aware of her strategy.
She flushed and looked down, noticing that the majority of his food remained untouched. She was completely distracted for a moment. Do vampires eat food, or do they only drink blood? She remembered the feel of his mouth locked on her neck and shivered as she realized the sensation hadn’t been an unpleasant one.
“Is the food to your liking, Your Grace?” her mother asked, twisting her napkin in her nervousness.
The duke took a bite of braised beef and chewed. “This is delicious, Lady Margaret. Unfortunately I dined earlier”—Angelica dropped her spoon, and he fixed her with a stern eye—“and I would not be able to manage another bite if this meal was not so exquisite.”
Margaret seemed pleased and Angelica searched her mind for another of her mother’s commandments. A lady does not ask a man too many questions.
“What are your interests, Your Grace?” Angelica asked, surprised at her genuine curiosity.
Burnrath’s smile gave her another unbidden shiver. “I enjoy playing cards, reading, attending the opera, and playing with investments in the market. What do you prefer, Miss Winthrop?”
Margaret paled at the duke’s blatant admission that he was involved in trade, but her father had a new gleam of interest in his eyes. As if His Grace held new value as a prospective son-in-law. She needed to do better.
“I enjoy reading, writing gothic stories, and”—Angelica floundered for the right words—“supporting the liberation of women!”
At her mother’s strangled gasp, she knew she’d scored a hit.
“I see,” Burnrath said, his lips twitching. “And how do you contribute to this cause?”
Angelica fixed him with an icy glare. How dare he be amused! “Well, I purchase all the literature I can on the subject, and I portray my heroines in my stories as strong, independent thinkers who have no need for a man. And the songs I write involve honest feelings rather than insipid yearnings.”
“You write songs as well?” The duke raised a brow, but his smile deepened. “I am overjoyed that I shall have a very talented bride. I would like to hear your compositions sometime.”
“I am certain you would not,” Margaret said stiffly, fixing her daughter with a warning glare. “I am quite afraid that my daughter’s singing is most… unconventional.”
Angelica’s heart surged with triumph as she embarked further. “What is your average profit from your investments on the ’Change, Your Grace?” This time, she heard a murmur of protest from her father. Surely this was dangerous ground. A lady was never to discuss matters of commerce.
To her disappointment, the duke did not seem chagrined in the slightest by her rude inquiry. “I have made anywhere between ten and ten thousand pounds on my speculations. And how much have you made from your writing?”
“Eighteen pounds, so far.” Angelica struggled to keep the defensiveness from her voice. “Of course, that was only from short stories. The profits from a novel will be much higher.”
“When you are the Duchess of Burnrath, you will likely make more,” her father said in a blatant attempt to placate her.
Angelica turned to her father, breath heaving shallowly. He’s supposed to be on my side! “I believe my work should stand on its own merits and the reception shouldn’t change because of my name.” Her gaze darted back to Burnrath. “And I do not see why I should have to change my name in the first place.”
The duke smiled. “That is what a lady does when she marries.”
Her fists clenched irritation. “Yes, but why? Why does a woman have to give up her name? Why don’t you change your name?”
Margaret’s face turned white with mortification. Her father seemed wracked with confusion as his mouth struggled to form a response.
The duke, however, was undaunted by her radical outburst. “Because that is the way things have always been done, Angel.”
Her father nodded in relieved agreement. “Yes, quite so, Your Grace.”
Angelica refused to take the bait and kept her reproving stare on the target of her ire. “I do not think that longtime tradition is a legitimate reason to throw away my identity. After all, for centuries we believed that the world was flat, but now we’ve come to our senses at last.”
Her parents gasped in mutual shock, but before her lips could curve in a triumphant smile, the scoundrel before her actually raised his glass to her in a toast.
“I applaud your sound logic, Miss Winthrop,” Burnrath said with another of his infuriating knowing smiles. “However, I do not believe English law will bow down before it. They move dreadfully slow, after all. But do not allow that to stop you from pursuing reform. Who knows, perhaps someday women will be allowed to sit in Parliament.”
“Are you mocking me, Your Grace?” Angelica asked in a low voice.