A joyous gasp escaped her throat as she saw that it was Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication on the Rights of Woman. She picked it up and hugged it tightly to her chest. There was no note beside the book, but Angelica knew Ian must have placed it there for her to find. She smiled as she remembered quoting the book to him the night they first met. Her amusement turned to wonder as she realized the gesture must mean he was reassuring her that she would be free with him. After all, the night she officially accepted his proposal, he had said, “A duchess may do what she pleases.”
Angelica recalled that he also had said she could decorate and put the rooms to any use she liked. I will have a writing room! She practically skipped out of the library, opening doors to find the perfect place to dream up and create her stories.
The room must be cozy but not too small. When she found the smallest guest chamber at the end of the hall she bit back an exclamation of joy and twirled around the dusty room.
Summoning the burliest footmen she could find and two maids, she ordered that everything be cleared out and the room given a good scrub-down. She did her best to imitate her mother’s gentle commanding tone when speaking to servants. When a rat scuttled by, making the maids shriek and cling to the footmen, Angelica laughed. “Do not worry. I will be getting a cat to deal with our vermin problem.”
Then the coachman arrived and helped her and Liza into the black and silver coach emblazoned with the Burnrath ducal crest.
“How does one acquire a cat?” Angelica immediately asked.
Felton and Liza exchanged perplexed glances.
“I don’t rightly know, Your Grace,” Felton said. “Most of the ladies of the nobility purchase their dogs through breeders, but I’ll not be knowing if such a thing is done with cats.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Any farm is sure to be chock-full of barn cats, but we do not have the time for a jaunt through the countryside before your appointment with the dressmaker, if you don’t mind my saying.”
Angelica sighed. It appeared that she would not get her first pet today. Then she brightened at the thought of her writing room. “Very well, I would like to purchase a writing desk, and while we’re out, I’ll inquire of any acquaintances we encounter as to the subject of cat breeders. If we don’t learn of any, we shall have to visit a farm tomorrow.”
“A capital plan, Your Grace.” Felton tipped his hat, and with a flick of the reins, they were on the way.
It took visits to three different furniture shops on Bond Street to find the desk of her dreams. But when she did, it took her breath away. The desk was large and made of dark gleaming cherry wood, with gilt paneling and inlaid brass designs on the two cupboards that opened to reveal extra drawers beyond the three above. The drawers were a godsend to Angelica, as she was accustomed to hiding her stories in a meager writing desk that was little more than a lamp table.
“I want this delivered to Number 6 Rosemead Street as soon as possible,” she told the shopkeeper, unable to conceal her joy.
He smiled and bowed. “I commend your selection, milady. I’m sure your husband will be pleased.”
“This desk is not for him; it is for me.” She smiled at the man’s surprise and lifted her chin. “I am a writer. Now, what do you have for inkwells?”
On her way to buy paper, she encountered Lady Wheaton and her sister, Claire, outside a milliner’s shop.
“Your Grace!” Claire exclaimed with false cheer. “What a pleasure it is to see you. Is the duke with you?” Her expression burned with such an intense combination of jealousy and curiosity that Angelica was momentarily taken aback.
Angelica inclined her head and forced a polite smile. “No. His condition prevents him from being exposed to the sunlight. How are you ladies today?”
“We are well, thank you,” Victoria said stiffly. “I see that you’ve survived your wedding night. I assume that means that His Grace is not a vampire?”
Angelica resisted the urge to rub the place on her neck where Ian had bitten her the night before and instead used her husband’s words the first night they met. “He is a man… a wonderful man,” she added.
“Congratulations, you must be very happy.” Victoria grumbled.
As she surveyed the pair, she remembered Claire’s ambitious quest for a titled suitor and Victoria’s fervent campaign in aiding her sister. Victoria went so far as trying to ruin Angelica’s reputation at the Wentworth ball by bringing her into the card room, where she first met Ian. Her heart fluttered at the thought of her vampire husband. Victoria has my gratitude, but she would be further vexed if I told her so.
“I am so very glad I encountered you two,” Angelica said cheerfully, ignoring their restrained hostility. “I wanted very much to thank you for what you did at the Wentworth ball. I doubt Ian would have paid me the slightest notice if I had not scorned propriety and entered the card room.” She took a small measure of pleasure as Victoria managed only a grimace of a smile before she continued. “I also wanted to invite you to the ball I will be hosting in two weeks. I do so hope you will come.”