The quaint image brought a giggle to her lips. “You are not really an animated corpse, are you?”
Burnrath laughed. “No, our condition is more like a sickness in the blood that we can pass on to others. Our legends say it is magic spread from the first vampires, who were demons cast out of hell because they weren’t evil enough to suit his dark majesty.” His gaze turned serious as he leaned closer and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “I assure you I am quite alive, my sweet.”
She wanted to ask more, but Liza poked her head out the door. “I was told to look in on you, miss.”
“We will be in after I kiss her good night.” The duke’s rakish smile had the maid simpering.
Angelica smiled in reluctant admiration of his seemingly limitless charm. Perhaps vampires were magic.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Liza bobbed a curtsy and left them alone.
Angelica’s breath caught as the vampire took her into his arms, ready to be overcome with his passion. Instead, his lips brushed whisper-soft against hers for a tortuously brief moment. Then he released her and stepped back.
“Good night, Angel,” he whispered and tipped his hat before leaving her trembling with longings she didn’t understand.
Angelica bit back a moan of frustration. She would have to steel all of her will and senses to resist him, and when she escaped this engagement, it would not be a moment too soon.
Twelve
The Duke of Burnrath resembled a wolf among sheep next to the pastel-garbed assembly at Almack’s. He frowned down at his black satin knee breeches then actually scowled at her. Angelica smiled at his painfully obvious display of how he hated every minute of being at this place.
She’d almost panicked when Lady Jersey nearly refused him because he didn’t have a voucher, but Lady Cowper overrode her decision and handed him a “Stranger Ticket,” not bothering to hide her glee at the appearance of London’s biggest subject of gossip.
“I cannot believe you do not have a voucher to Almack’s!” Angelica exclaimed with mock outrage.
“Careful, minx, or I shall think you dragged me to this silly place just to irritate me.” A muscle in his jaw ticked.
She plied her fan, feigning innocence. “Would I do that?”
He laughed as he led her to the dance floor. “I imagine you would. In fact, I am quite certain that you despise this place as much as I already do.”
“I…” She raised the fan to hide her expression. Could he be aware of her plan to annoy him out of the engagement?
“Please, Miss Winthrop, do not exert yourself by indulging in further falsehoods.” he whispered through clenched teeth. “The truth is written all over your face. Now tell me, why are you trying to vex me?” The vampire loomed over her like the fierce blood drinker he was.
The young ladies and gentlemen around them had abandoned even the slightest pretense of dancing and were now watching the discussion with avid interest. Claire Belmont gripped Lord Makepeace’s sleeve and dragged him closer. The audience seemed to salivate over the possibility of scandal.
Angelica resisted the urge to glare at Claire. “People are staring at us.”
“Let them,” Burnrath said curtly. “This is not the first time we’ve garnered attention, and from the pattern of our discourse, it will not be the last.”
“Fine,” she muttered and confessed the truth. “I had thought if I irritated you enough, you would not wish to marry me.”
“Angel…” His voice grew tender and his grip tightened on her waist as they waltzed. “Nothing will make me change my mind. I have told you time and again that you have no reason to fear me. What will it take to make you believe me?”
As she swayed in his arms, his handsome face and gentleness nearly shattered her resolve. “I do not know. I am so confused.” Could I tell him I am afraid of losing my freedom? No, such an action would be ludicrous!
“Everything will be all right. I promise,” he whispered and her heart ached in longing to believe him.
The dance ended and Burnrath bent closer. “Well, thanks to your failed ploy, we are trapped in this insipid place for awhile, for if we depart now, tongues would surely wag.” He smirked. “Shall I fetch you some warm lemonade?”
“Don’t you dare leave me!” she hissed, rising up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Viscount Branson is over there, just itching to dance with me, and his breath is so foul that I’m afraid I would be sick all over his ridiculous high-heeled shoes that were in fashion in my grandfather’s day.”
The duke’s brows rose in mock horror. “You may have a point. On the other side, I see four matrons and their daughters eyeing me as if I am a walking bank draft. If you leave me, they are sure to pounce. And you wondered why I never set foot in this hellish place.”