They leaned against each other and staggered toward the back door, both still weak with blood loss. When Ian managed to open the door, he stumbled and almost fell to the floor.
A parlor maid took in their blood-stained clothes and haggard countenances. Angelica’s state of undress appeared to go quite unnoticed. A splintery scream escaped from the maid’s bloodless lips before she collapsed into a dead faint. Her feather duster bounced from the floor and landed comically on her head.
The butler rushed into the room, followed by the other servants. “Your Graces!” he cried. “What happened?”
Ian trembled as he struggled to keep his footing and still support Angelica. “Fetch the constable,” he commanded Burke. “My wife has been assaulted.”
He handed his duchess off to the housekeeper and her maids, smiling as they cooed and clucked over her like mother hens. Apparently his wasn’t the only heart she’d captured.
“Should I send for a doctor as well?” Burke asked, staring at their bloody clothes, his face lined with worry.
“Most of the blood is the assailant’s,” Ian said impatiently as white spots appeared in his vision. If he didn’t have blood soon… “He is inside the mausoleum, but under no circumstances is he to be moved until the constable is finished with his investigation. I want this horrid affair done and over with as soon as possible.”
He turned toward the stairs and stopped. “On second thought, perhaps a doctor wouldn’t be amiss. Do send for one along with the constable, and please be quick about it.”
Once he reached his bedchamber, Ian summoned his valet and mesmerized him before sinking his fangs into the man’s throat. He’d vowed never to feed from his servants but this was an emergency, for he would collapse if he didn’t get sustenance as soon as possible.
When he had drunk his fill, he released his hold on the valet, noting with remorse that the poor chap was swaying on his feet.
“Are you all right?” Ian asked, afraid he’d taken too much blood. It would undo him if he harmed one under his protection.
“Yes, indeed, Your Grace,” Carson replied, eyes swimming in confusion. “Just a dizzy spell, I am afraid.”
Guilt prickled Ian and he gripped the valet’s shoulders to keep him from falling. “Why don’t you go to bed, Carson, and I shall finish dressing myself.”
“Are you quite certain, Your Grace?” The poor man looked as if he were on the verge of collapsing at Ian’s feet.
Ian nodded. “Yes. I cannot have you falling ill. Take tomorrow off as well, and feel free to ring for anything you need.”
“Thank you very much, Your Grace,” Carson said, and turned toward the door. “It is very queer. I felt fine all day…”
By the time Ian had changed his clothes and returned downstairs, the maids had Angelica changed into a modest dressing robe and had tucked her in a quilt on the couch with a steaming cup of hot chocolate while she awaited the doctor. He noted the scratches and bruises covering her arms from her struggle with the vampire hunter and wished he had killed the bastard himself.
The constable arrived and inspected the body. When questioned, Angelica gave a stellar performance as she narrated the story they had fabricated. Ian could tell by the shocked faces of her captive audience that they believed every word.
“I took my cat, Loki, outside to… take care of his necessities,” she said with a delicate blush. “Then I was grabbed from behind and shoved into the mausoleum… it was a dreadful place!” She began to tremble theatrically as her voice rose in feigned panic. “The man tried to t-take my clothes off! I fought and fought and slashed at him with my letter opener to fend him off, but he took it away from me and held the blade to my throat, threatening to stab me if I did not let him… I thought I was done for!” she gasped. “But my dear husband heard my screams and pulled the beastly man off me. They fought and Ian cut his throat.”
The constable frowned. “But why did you have a letter opener with you?”
Angelica managed a weak smile. “I was reading my letters.”
“At five o’clock in the morning?” he asked doubtfully.
“Oh yes! Early morning is the best time for reading, for the house is so quiet without all the servants underfoot.” Angelica told him as if he were a fool not to grasp such logic.
Ian fought back a smile. Apparently his wife had missed her calling at Drury Lane.
The constable seemed satisfied, for he nodded and then questioned Ian, nodding more as his story corroborated Angelica’s.