Bite Me, Your Grace

“Certainly not,” she scoffed. “Dogs are useless and monkeys belong in the jungle. Your house has rats. The one that startled me so I tripped down your stairs was monstrous! Besides, Mother never let me have any pets, and I shall be quite lonely during the daytime when you are… asleep.”

 

 

“Very well, a feline it is, along with anything else your heart desires.” He took her arm, pulling her close. “Let us leave now. I am sorry I brought you here.”

 

“Oh, please do not be sorry!” Angelica protested, clinging to him. “I always knew that London had unsavory districts, but I hadn’t the slightest notion of how bad it could be. You have opened my eyes, Your Grace. I fear many others are unaware of the pitiful living conditions here. Perhaps I could write numerous articles on the subject. I believe I shall want to come back and gather more information about these sorts of sections of the city.”

 

“As long as you never venture here alone.” Ian’s voice was stern. “Such a foolish action would be extremely dangerous. Truly, I should never have brought you. I was not thinking clearly.”

 

Angelica hid a smile. It seemed he truly did care for her. “But what if I wear a disguise?” she teased.

 

“No disguises,” he countered roughly. “After all, they did not protect you from me.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered solemnly.

 

He reached up and stroked her hair. “Please, call me Ian.”

 

Her heart warmed at his soft tone. “Very well… Ian. May we go home now?” She shivered as the dampness of her gown seemed to seep into her bones.

 

Again, agonized guilt slashed across his features before he managed a light smile. “Of course, my Angel.”

 

Angelica sighed and leaned into him as they headed back in the direction of the carriage. Footsteps echoed on the cobblestones behind her, but she barely heard them. Suddenly Ian stopped.

 

“Polidori!” he growled, and thrust her away from him so roughly that she almost fell.

 

Shock roiled through her at the abrupt change in his mood. “Ian, what—”

 

He didn’t hear her. The duke was staring at a handsome Italian man who had stumbled into the square.

 

Could this be the Polidori, the one who wrote “The Vampyre”? She didn’t have time to ask, for Polidori’s dark eyes met Ian’s glowing gaze, then widened in terror as Ian bared his fangs. Polidori turned and fled, and Ian bolted in pursuit. His walking stick clattered to the ground, forgotten.

 

Angelica watched in stunned silence as the normally composed duke disappeared around the corner, running like a madman.

 

“Oh-ho, this be our lucky day!” a voice chortled, and she was seized from behind.

 

As she struggled against her captor, a scruffy man came out of the shadows. His toothless grin chilled Angelica to the bone. It was the same grin that graced little boys’ faces while they pulled the wings off butterflies. One quick glance at the empty street told her that the coach had not yet arrived. Not only that, but the square was now suddenly deserted, as if everyone were happy to leave her to her fate.

 

“Aye, I see the gov’ner has left his fancy piece for us.” The scruffy man’s filthy hand reached for her bodice.

 

The man who held her tugged her backward. “’Tis my turn first!” he growled.

 

His sour stench made her eyes water. She was not going to wait long enough to find out what these ruffians had in store for her. She raised her knee and kicked back and upward, her boot slamming into the man’s groin.

 

He released her immediately, his breath whistling out of him in a pitiful squeal. She rushed forward to freedom… and her skirts tangled around her boot. Angelica plummeted face-first into the filth on the street. An enormous ruby winked at her from the mud and her eyes widened at its incongruity before she noticed the length of polished wood to which the jewel was affixed.

 

“Methinks it’s my turn now,” the other man chuckled, approaching her and unfastening his grimy trousers. “I like it when they fight; ’tis exciting.”

 

Angelica’s hand closed around Ian’s walking stick, and she scrambled to her feet with a scream of fury tearing from her throat.

 

***

 

Ian’s hand closed around Polidori’s arm just as he heard Angelica scream. All thoughts of interrogating the writer ceased. What had he been thinking?

 

“Another time, Doctor,” he said, releasing the man.

 

Choking with guilt and terror, Ian ran back to the square where he had left his intended bride.