Bite Me, Your Grace

Angelica stepped out of her grandfather’s embrace, biting her tongue. She would see what Ian had to say about that. A twinge of doubt curled in her belly. What if the duke would indeed forbid her to write? She closed her eyes, refusing to ponder such a horrifying thought.

 

“Grandfather?” She returned to the mission at hand. “Could I beg you to not tell Mother about the foolish things I said? She would be dreadfully upset, but worse, she will tell Papa, and he would bring the roof down on my head! After all, he helped to encourage the match between the duke and me. He was always wrangling invitations to parties His Grace would attend, and such.”

 

“He did, did he?” The earl’s eyes lit with reluctant admiration. “Very well, I suppose I will hold my tongue then.”

 

Angelica allowed herself to feel a measure of hope. Perhaps someday the earl would reconcile with her father. That thought, as well as anticipation of seeing her husband-to-be, nurtured her for the remainder of the visit.

 

 

 

 

 

Fourteen

 

 

Ian called upon the Winthrops the very evening that Angelica and her mother returned from Pendlebur Park. He was surprised to discover just how much he had missed his bride-to-be. He was so busy trying to solve the mystery of the disappearance of one of his vampires that he shouldn’t have had time for such whimsical thoughts. Still, Angelica haunted his memory with her impish smile, gypsy eyes, and irreverent remarks.

 

“I have something to tell you, Your Grace,” Angelica said as soon as they were alone in the drawing room for their designated five minutes.

 

“Oh?” He tried to hide his amusement at her serious demeanor even as he wondered if it was possible for her to have grown even more beautiful in the short time she’d been away.

 

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I wanted to let you to know that I agree to the match and I will marry you.”

 

He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at her regal demeanor. “Well, I should certainly hope so as our engagement is a foregone conclusion. The contracts have already been drawn up.” Ian reached to touch her silken hair, unable to resist her.

 

Her eyes narrowed as she rose from her seat. “I would have you know, Your Grace, that it was not a ‘foregone conclusion.’ In fact, I was not going to marry you at all! I have been doing everything I can to avoid becoming leg-shackled to you and I was going to run away!”

 

His jaw clenched. Ian had hoped to dispel her feelings that he was a monster and apparently had failed far worse than he had ever anticipated.

 

“And just where were you planning to run to?” he asked icily, unwilling to acknowledge the pain in his heart.

 

Angelica did not flinch at his tone. Her skirts rustled as she paced the room. “I would have used the money I made from my stories to rent a flat somewhere in the city and support myself with short stories until I finished a novel. I heard that the lady who wrote Pride and Prejudice made one hundred forty pounds.”

 

“That would not be enough to buy your pretty gowns,” he mocked, his temper rising at her sheer ignorance and ingratitude.

 

“Gowns can go to the devil!” she retorted, cheeks growing pink in indignation. She looked down at her pale-blue satin opera gown as if offended by the shimmering elegance adorning her exquisite form. “Besides, they are not sensible garb for an author, I should say.”

 

The way Angelica glibly spoke of living in squalor and subjecting herself to the sordid dangers of London rather than being his duchess made him clench his fists. Did she really think he was a fate worse than death? Or was she truly that naive?

 

“What play are we going to see?” she asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

 

Ian did not intend to let her off that easily. Inspiration struck him. Oh, he would take her to a “play” for certain. A play that she would never forget.

 

“Something pitiful and tragic,” he said with an evil smile. It was high time his bride received a taste of reality. “I think you will be quite affected.”

 

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at his tone but she nodded in assent, ever displaying her indomitable courage. “I will get my cape.”

 

“Put on a sensible pair of boots as well.” Ian’s heart twisted with bitterness. He would show her a fate worse than death.

 

***

 

Angelica peeked at the duke, nervous about his cold demeanor. He was angry about something. His eyes seemed to shoot sparks, and his jaw was clenched so tightly she could see a nerve pulsing. She shivered. She felt like she was locked in a cage with a hungry wolf. Lifting the curtain, she peered out the carriage window.

 

“The theater district is in the opposite direction.” She couldn’t keep the alarm from creeping into her voice. “Where are you taking me?” Surely he wasn’t going to bite her.

 

He smiled, but his eyes held no warmth. “I want to show you something.”

 

Within moments, a foul odor was creeping into the coach. Her nose wrinkled. “What is that awful stench?”