Truly, it was bliss waking up warm and satiated beside him every morning, rather than in a cold, empty bed. People would surely talk about the covered windows, but she was certain that the “window tax” was still in effect… not that anyone would believe that Ian was short of funds. But in this case, the gossips could hang. Angelica wanted to spend every moment she could in her husband’s arms.
Hopefully, her party would occupy most of society’s attention and fodder for gossip. At least, that was Angelica’s plan. She intended to draw their attention and possible censure from Ian to herself. Themed parties were all the rage, but she couldn’t settle on just one, so she decided to use a few. The dishes would be Indian, the decor would be French, and the music would be performed by gypsies. And since Ian claimed that he liked her music, she decided to play a few pieces herself.
Before she knew it, Liza was marching her to her bedchamber to dress for the ball.
Angelica grinned mischievously as she caressed the folds of her velvet ball gown, which was a purple so dark that it looked black where the light didn’t strike the fabric. She’d arranged for the ballroom to be decorated in black, silver, and royal purple.
Her ball would be the spectacle of the season.
***
The evening of the ball was warm and tranquil with the scent of lilacs coming in from the open windows. Angelica wished the tranquility would seep into her. When the guests began to pour in as Burke announced them, her stomach churned. Heading up the receiving line was frightening at first, but with her mother standing nearby whispering encouragement when she faltered, Angelica felt her courage increase.
Within the hour she felt like a seasoned hostess, curtsying and exchanging polite greetings and hiding her boredom with the redundancy of the ritual. As she smiled blandly at the scrutinizing looks aimed at her, she developed greater appreciation for her fellow hostesses and chatelaines of London households. All the same, she was relieved when her husband joined her.
“How is my Angel this evening?” Ian whispered before placing a proprietary arm around her waist.
Warmth curled in her body as she turned in his grasp to look upon his beloved visage. “Thus far, I’ve been at the brink of expiring from the tedium. But now that you are here, the festivities shall be much more enjoyable.”
She grinned up at his perplexed countenance before a maid handed her a glass to tap for silence, a gesture that was hardly necessary since nearly all were staring at them and trying to overhear their conversation for future on-dits to fuel their gossip circles.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my very first ball,” Angelica addressed her guests, trying to keep her voice steady. “I hope you all have a wonderful time, and the duke and I look forward to more of such occasions. Let the dancing begin.”
As Ian took her hand for the dance, his eyes strayed toward the platform upon which the gypsy musicians plied their trade. “I can always depend on you to make the most unique selections, my dear.” He did his best to adjust to the new rhythms and melodies of the song, and Angelica was whirled about far more intoxicatingly than she would have been during an average English cotillion. “The percussion is pleasing to dance to, Angel. It is a wonder that they do not accompany as often as one would think.”
Suddenly, a scream rent the air, coming from the east end of the ballroom floor. The music stopped and pandemonium momentarily broke out. As the crowd of dancers parted, Angelica saw a black form affixed to Miss Claire Belmont’s skirts.
Claire was shrieking and batting ineffectually at Loki, who had sought new prey in the form of the ribbon tied at her waist.
Angelica suppressed most of her giggles as she made her way to Claire and carefully extracted the cat from her ensemble, passing him off to a helpful footman.
“My gown is ruined!” Claire cried, tears welling up in her eyes.
The young Baron Osgoode approached and bowed. “I assure you, Miss Belmont, you are breathtaking. Though if you would like some fresh air, I would be happy to escort you to the balcony.”
Claire blushed becomingly, and her eyes once more resembled those of a lioness on the hunt as she seized his proffered arm. “That would be lovely, Lord Osgoode.”
Angelica nodded her thanks to her former suitor, and Osgoode’s face flushed scarlet as he bowed over her hand. “Y-your Grace,” he stammered.
“I see the lad hasn’t forgotten his unseemly behavior toward you,” Ian murmured as the music and dancing resumed.
Angelica was claimed for the next dance by the Earl of Deveril—and as she now knew, the Lord of Cornwall—one of the few English lord vampires who’d accepted Ian’s invitation to attend the wedding.
“I am happy you decided to quit being a wallflower, my lord.” She smiled up into his glittering, stormy eyes. “Are you truly Lord of all of Cornwall?”