All the things that her mother and grandfather chastised her for had never seemed to bother him. If she married the duke, she would be out from under her mother’s thumb and she’d never have to see her cruel grandfather again if she so chose. A rush of glee filled her at the thought. As Angelica circled the bedchamber, she imagined living with Ian at Burnrath House, being alone with him, laughing with him… kissing him…
Angelica lifted her chin and stared out the window, facing the setting sun. I will do it. I will marry the vampire duke. She smiled, overcome by a warm rush of relief that her strenuous inner conflict was at last settled. Well, I have always been fascinated by Burnrath House. Now the manor will be mine, because I am marrying a vampire! She giggled at the irony and shivered at the deliciousness of the thought. I am marrying a vampire… She remembered the gleam of his fangs, the feel of his powerful arms around her.
He’d thought she was afraid of him, but that wasn’t true. Angelica felt safe with Ian. Safe… and valued. Every aspect of his behavior in their brief courtship implied he cared about her thoughts and feelings, and he never criticized her for being different from other females. The realization brought another thought. Perhaps he isn’t marrying me only to protect his reputation. Perhaps he is doing it because he’s lonely. She remembered the story of how he became a vampire, abandoned on the field of battle, attacked, and left for dead over two centuries ago. Now all of his family was gone. Of course he was lonely. But he shall be lonely no longer, she vowed.
Suddenly, Angelica couldn’t wait to return to London and shop for her trousseau. She strode to the door, ready to announce that she was eager to become the Duchess of Burnrath, but that she would do so because she wanted to, not because of his threats.
Then she froze with her hand grasping the handle, remembering the ferocity of her grandfather’s tirade. Not only would the earl be reluctant to put aside the quarrel, but he also would still blame her father for her rebellion. And worse, Angelica and her mother would likely tear each other apart on the carriage ride home far worse than they had after their previous visits to Pendlebur Park.
She would have to find an explanation that would soften the earl as well as vindicate her father. Angelica was tempted to blister her mother’s ears for encouraging the earl to threaten her family, but what was the use? Margaret would never understand. Besides, after the wedding, she would be free of her mother. But now, she would have to soften the earl for her father’s sake.
Angelica sat back down on the bed and thought. Her excuse would have to be believable but something silly… something the usual featherheaded debutante would think. Oh, this would be difficult! After discarding multiple explanations, she settled on a plan of action. She wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face easily while spewing such drivel, but she would have to do her best. Ian wouldn’t be the only one with a smooth tongue, she vowed. A vivid memory of his smooth tongue momentarily weakened her knees, but Angelica thrust the hypnotic image away to focus on the matter at hand.
With renewed determination, she made her way down the stairs and softly knocked on the library door. “Grandfather?” she said in her most imploring voice.
“What is it now?” the earl demanded in his usual churlish tone.
She took that for permission and opened the door, composing her features in the most submissive demeanor possible. “I came to apologize.”
Her grandfather gave her a brief glance and made a gruff noise of assent. “Very well.”
Angelica approached him with careful, delicate steps, as if she was reenacting her presentation to the Sovereign. Noticing the stiff set of his shoulders, she avoided meeting his eyes. Forcing her voice to the most dulcet of tones, she began. “I am terribly sorry for my awful behavior and that I said I did not wish to wed the duke. My only explanation for such foolishness is that I am so afraid that I will not be worthy of him.”
She chanced a glance then and noticed his gaze softening. Her opening appeared to be working.
“What do you, mean, child?” he asked in a tone he hadn’t used since her childhood, when he’d comforted her after her nightmares.
Angelica fought back her indignation at being called a child but maintained her composure. “Since the dukes of Burnrath only married foreign nobles, the idea of being the first English Duchess of Burnrath frightens me terribly. I do not believe I am worthy of such a high honor, given my half common blood. Please forgive me?” she whispered, hoping he’d believe the explanation.
“Oh, dearest granddaughter.” He enfolded her in his arms. “You do not need to be afraid. Your mother is an expert on how to act the proper lady in society. Just follow her guidance and you shall be a fine duchess. Now you must forget all that nonsense about writing novels. Leave that for the spinsters and commoners.”