Bite Me, Your Grace

She picked up her skirts and dashed away from him before he could reply, not giving a damn what people would think of her unladylike behavior.

 

“I am flattered that you are in such a hurry to see me,” Jane teased.

 

“It was Lord Ponsonby,” Angelica said. “He was trying yet again to ‘pay homage’ to my beauty, but the words coming out of his mouth sounded more like ribald limericks than poetry. Oh, Jane, the man is beyond loathsome! I have tried my best to dissuade him, but he won’t take the hint.”

 

“Perhaps it is time to stop being polite and give him the cut direct,” the duchess suggested.

 

“If he were the only cad pestering me, I would, believe me.” Angelica sighed. “But every other gentleman I encounter seems bent on luring me out into the gardens in hopes of taking liberties. Does the fact that I am a married woman mean nothing to anyone?”

 

Jane laughed. “Oh, it means plenty, Your Grace.” At Angelica’s questioning look she continued, whispering behind her fan. “It means that you are no longer a maiden and would perhaps welcome a discreet affair. Still, it is in bad taste that they do not wait until you’ve produced the requisite heir before they try to put horns on His Grace. But I’m sure that since you are having a quarrel, they consider you to be fair game.”

 

“We are doing quite well,” Angelica said through gritted teeth.

 

“If you say so.” Jane’s voice was laced with skepticism. “But you should know that I have been married much longer than you, and I am aware of all the signs.”

 

Suddenly, the duchess’s company was less than appealing. Angelica’s gaze darted around the room, seeking escape. The balconies were more crowded than the dance floor, and she didn’t dare seek refuge in the gardens, for Ponsonby or some other fool would surely accost her. “I think I should go freshen up,” she murmured, and fled from her friend’s side.

 

Much like her home, the Pemberly mansion had its own water closet. Angelica scorned the wide-mirrored vanities that sported their own powders and perfumes for use by the guests and went into the water closet. She needed to hide. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of excrement mingled with the cloying perfumes that attempted to disguise it.

 

She put her face in her hands. She wished she’d never come to this ball. Angelica longed to be away from the stifling small talk and the hands and eyes of the lecherous “gentlemen.” More than anything, she longed to be back in her writing room. Her vampire story was taking form in her imagination, holding her enraptured and pulling her away from reality with its siren’s song, just as a good story should. But instead of sitting in her haven, blissfully putting pen to paper, she was shut up in a stinking privy, hiding from her peers who drove her mad. She stood up, resolving to take her leave and begin her project straightaway.

 

The creak of the door opening, along with the trill of feminine laughter, announced that she wasn’t alone. Angelica sat back down with a whispered curse.

 

“I cannot believe she came here alone yet again,” one voice said. “It is a disgrace!”

 

Another giggled. “Yes, but her actions provide endless amusement for the rest of us. I wonder how many days will pass before we hear of an affair.”

 

What awful vipers! Angelica felt sorry for the unfortunate victim of the gossip.

 

“I feel bad for Her Grace,” the first woman said. “I could have sworn that they had a love match.”

 

Angelica held her breath, suspicion piercing her nerves. Are they speaking of me?

 

“Perhaps it was a love match at first, but after that scandalous party she arranged and that vulgar music she played, who can blame His Grace if his affections turned the other way?”

 

The voices faded as the women left the room. Angelica emerged from the reeking water closet, cheeks burning. Could her party truly be the reason Ian intended to abandon her? She shook her head. He had not appeared at all displeased with her performance. No, he just didn’t love her. Her hand closed around a tin of powder, squeezing the container until the sharp edges bit into her skin as she struggled to get her emotions under control.

 

It doesn’t matter what these people think. I don’t belong with them anyway.

 

The minute she emerged, Lady Tavistock and Lady Wheaton approached her, along with a few other women. Victoria’s lip was curled in an unpleasant smirk.

 

“It is a pleasure to see you, Your Grace,” Lady Tavistock said with artificial sweetness. “Did His Grace accompany you?”

 

The titters in the background made Angelica’s fists clench. “My husband was unable to escort me this evening. He had a meeting with his business solicitor about one of his shipping ventures,” she lied. “He has been very busy of late. I will be sure to convey your regards to him when next we see one another.”