Victoria laughed. “Ah, an evening meeting, you say? Most solicitors are not open at this hour. He must be very busy indeed.”
The other women laughed and whispered behind their fans. How dare they imply Ian is with a mistress! Angelica’s vision tinged with red and her hand rose of its own will, ready to slap the mocking smile off the venomous bitch’s face.
“The Duke of Burnrath!” the butler announced.
Angelica’s hand dropped as the ballroom went silent, all eyes focusing on Ian’s tall form as he strode toward her. Her treacherous heart leaped in joy at his unwitting rescue. She suppressed the feeling and tried to behave as if it was nothing less than she expected. Yet, she couldn’t help casting a triumphant grin at her audience.
Ian bowed low as he kissed her hand. “Would you care to dance, Your Grace?”
As he whirled her around the dance floor, Angelica was torn between anger and relief at his presence. After all, the only reason she came to these vapid balls was to avoid him. What good would it do if he followed her? And if she had to dance with him and endure his lazy smiles yet again, her resolve to close her heart off to him might just crumble.
“Are you enjoying your evening, Angel?” he asked, his gentle, deep voice pulling at her.
She sighed. “Not particularly.” There was so sense in lying.
“Then may I escort you home? I know another dance we could do.” His lips curved in a wicked smile. “But it is one best done in private.”
Her knees went weak as desire speared her. “Yes, Your Grace.”
She allowed him to lead her from the dance floor and said her good-byes. The false sincerity in people’s voices as they wished them well rankled. Angelica decided she’d had enough of society for the time being. For now she would focus on her writing and her small literary gatherings.
On the ride home, her mind spun with ideas for her novel—that was, until Ian’s head lowered to her bodice and his lips caressed the tops of her breasts. The writing would have to come later.
Twenty-two
“My suspicions were correct!” the vampire hunter cried in elation. “The Duke of Burnrath is a vampire. But how did you come upon this knowledge, miss?”
Rosetta feigned a tragic sigh as she huddled in a dark corner so the lamplight would not reveal her pallor. “He bit me once when I worked as a maid in his household.”
His eyes widened. “How ever did you escape?”
“My husband, the coachman, rescued me,” she said, shivering and trying not to scratch at her blonde wig. The monstrosity itched terribly. “I never saw him after that.”
The hunter reached to pat her hand in false sympathy, unable to hide the predatory look in his muddy eyes. Rosetta got up and began to pace, avoiding his touch. This was a dangerous game she was playing. If he discovered who he was dealing with, the tables would turn on her with deadly swiftness. And if the Lord of London found out about her scheme, God help her.
The hunter’s hand rested awkwardly on the table with nothing to grasp. “You need not fear for much longer, miss. I am experienced in these matters, and since his location is known, I do not need to waste time hunting him down. Certainly it will not take me long to dispatch him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Now as much as I would gladly rid the world of these unholy monsters without receiving compensation, I do need to eat. Do you have my fee?”
Rosetta resisted the urge to snarl at this sanctimonious cretin. She wondered how deluded a man had to be to consider himself “holy.” She tossed him a purse full of coins. “Here is five hundred pounds. I will give you the rest after you slay him.”
After Flannigan departed, Rosetta heated water for a bath, hoping to cleanse herself of the filth his presence had left on her. She wondered if this corruption was worth such a loathsome price. She lifted her chin as she poured boiling water into the tub. For the safety of my love, anything is worth the effort! Still, she refrained from telling John. It wouldn’t do to worry him.
***
As June neared its conclusion, the social season rose to a furious peak. All of the nobility was awash with preparations for King George’s coronation, set for the nineteenth of July.