After what seemed to be an eternity, they were pronounced man and wife. Stunned gasps erupted from the audience as Ian’s mouth slanted across hers with such passion she feared the church would be set alight. When he lifted his head, he turned her to face the crowd. “I present to you Lady Angelica Ashton, Duchess of Burnrath.”
The cheers were deafening as they walked out of the church. Society’s capricious speculations now leaned toward a love match, for all eyes had examined her midsection for a telltale bulge that would have revealed Angelica to have been physically compromised, and none was observed. Also, she had looked so innocent in her gown of virginal white that only the most hardened souls could believe she was anything but a virtuous young lady.
However, the adoration in the duke’s eyes and the passion in their unexpected kiss led the wedding guests to concur that the duke and his new duchess were unfashionably in love. Still, a handful of fervent believers of Polidori’s tale wondered if the new duchess would survive her wedding night. Despite the church’s holy atmosphere, a few wagers were made.
***
Angelica could hardly believe the transformation of the Burnrath mansion. The ballroom glowed from the gaslit chandeliers, and the gilded mirrors sparkled. Not a speck of dust or ominous shadow was in sight. Menservants performed a stately march to and fro with silver trays bearing glasses of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Musicians played lively melodies, to which the multitude of guests were happy to dance… at least, most of them were.
Two men held up pillars on opposite sides of the ballroom. Angelica recognized them from the wedding, but she had never seen them before that. The first man was impossibly tall, with shoulder-length hair the color of moonlight. He surveyed the merriment as if such joy was alien to him, but his stormy blue-gray eyes held the same trace of loneliness she often saw in Ian’s gaze. Was this another vampire?
The second man had exotic, golden brown skin and startling amber eyes set off by a mane of waist-length black hair. His features were so striking that it took Angelica a moment to observe that the left side of his face was scarred and that his left arm hung awkwardly at his side, as if it had lost its function. At first she thought his scowl was due to anger that he couldn’t dance, but then she followed the line of his sight and realized that he was glaring at the other man.
“I cannot believe the Mad Deveril is here!” the Duchess of Wentworth said quietly behind her.
“The Mad Deveril?” Angelica turned to her with a raised brow. “To whom are you referring, Your Grace?”
The duchess grinned. “Please, call me Jane, else we’ll be ‘Your Grace-ing’ one another all night.” She lifted her fan to whisper, “I was referring to the man you were staring at, the one with the striking hair and blue eyes. He’s much more handsome than I’d heard, though so very tall and thin. You are not contemplating an affair already, are you?”
Angelica gasped in outrage. “Of course not!” At Jane’s laughter, she realized the duchess was teasing her. Shifting her gaze back to the subject of their conversation, Angelica lifted her own fan to whisper, “Is he truly mad?”
Jane nodded. “Not in the dangerous or amusing variety, though. From what I understand, he is merely reclusive and hardly ever leaves his estate in Cornwall. He must be very close to your husband to have braved the wilds of London… or perhaps he was as eager as the rest of us to see Burnrath House. His Grace has never entertained before, you know.”
“I had heard that,” Angelica agreed, smiling at the duchess’s chatter as she digested the information. Likely “the Mad Deveril” was another vampire. She would have to ask Ian at the earliest opportunity. Where was he, anyway?
“I have been clamoring to see the inside of this place.” Jane’s green eyes shone with eagerness. “Though these gas lamps make me nervous! What if one were to set the house ablaze?”
Angelica felt an odd twinge of irritation that anyone would dare criticize her new home. “Well, I’d read in The Times that the Westminster Gas Light and Coke Company anticipates these lamps to be in every home within twenty years.”
“How very interesting.” As if sensing her defensiveness, Jane changed the subject. “I believe you lived nearby?”
Angelica nodded, thrilled that someone shared her interest in this magnificent house. “I did. Burnrath House has always held my fascination as well.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I still cannot believe that it is now mine.”
Jane smiled and tossed her auburn curls. “And the rest of society cannot believe that Lord Burnrath is now yours.” She inclined her head toward a group of young debutantes whispering and pouting in their direction.
Angelica frowned. She had heard enough on that subject from her mother. Surely the ladies were not that envious of her. Such a thing would be tragic, for she did so want to make some friends.