Bite Me, Your Grace

Thirty-two


By the time Ian landed in the district of Soho, he was nearly out of his mind with the need to feed. Luckily for him, a harlot was flaunting her wares outside the alley. With a twinge of regret for the necessity of going against Angelica’s request to only feed on males, Ian lit on his victim. His fangs tore her throat in his eagerness. He cursed at the delay it took to heal her before he could be on his way.

Ian expected many things when he crashed through Rosetta’s door and stormed into her chamber: Rosetta rising up from his bride’s prone body, her fangs dripping blood; John Polidori assaulting Angelica as she screamed for mercy; or even Angelica fending off both captors with whatever sharp weapon she could find. What he had not anticipated was the determined look on his wife’s face as she leaped in front of him to block him from Rosetta and Polidori.

“Please, Ian, don’t kill them!” she cried. “This has all been a substantial misunderstanding!”

Behind her, Rosetta and John had fallen to their knees on the stone floor. Rosetta shielded Polidori with her arms as if Ian were a falcon ready to swoop down and take him from her.

“What in the blazes is going on here?” he roared.

“Well, if you would calm down, we can explain,” Angelica said, still trying to keep him from her captors.

The situation was so fantastical, so ridiculous, that it took a moment for him to recover his speech.

“Calm down? Pray tell, madam, who is calm here?” He looked again at the couple who appeared torn between fleeing and fighting. “And how can you possibly ‘explain’ the fact that one of my subjects has lied to me, betrayed me, and abducted my wife? I do not see any way for that to be put in a positive light.”

“I am sorry, Your Grace, I only wanted to protect John,” Rosetta said.

“Protect him from what?” Ian demanded, confusion adding to his rage.

Angelica stepped forward, eyes beseeching him to understand. “She thought you intended to kill him, Ian. You didn’t, did you?”

“I did not,” he answered stiffly, wanting nothing more than to sweep his bride out of the way and destroy the couple she seemed to be protecting. Only the imploring look in her eyes prevented him from doing just that. “But why did she take you?”

“Did the note not say?” Angelica asked.

He frowned. “The letter only demanded that I allow those schemers safe passage out of the city before they released you.” His eyes narrowed on the traitorous woman. “Now explain yourself at once, Rosetta.”

She gained her feet with liquid grace and took a shuddering breath. “I have been hiding John from you and the other vampires for a little over four months now. When he received an invitation from your wife to a writers’ gathering, I thought the duchess had set a trap for him. We captured Her Grace with intent to hold her until you gave us a letter of safe passage from London.” She fell back to her knees before him. “I truly believed that you meant to kill my Johnny. And when Her Grace told us you did not, I released her. I swear it. Please, Your Grace, have mercy!” Tears trailed down her ivory cheeks. “I love him!”

Angelica looked up at him with wide gypsy eyes shining in the candlelight. “Don’t you see, Ian? They are in love. You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

He sighed, overwhelmed with this unexpected turn in the situation. “I suppose I would.” Actually, he would probably do worse. If he thought someone intended to kill his beloved, he would slaughter them in the most brutal manner imaginable. “Did they hurt you, Angel?” he growled.

“No, not in the slightest.” She spread her arms and twirled to show herself unharmed.

“Were you afraid?” His eyes blazed like silver daggers at her captors.

Angelica snorted and shook her head, ever fearless. “Of course not. A duchess is more valuable alive than dead, you know.”

Ian scratched his chin thoughtfully and favored her with a stern gaze. “But if they let you go, then why were you still here, rather than safe at home?”

Her smile was sheepish. “I wanted to know about the famous writers’ gathering at Lake Geneva as well as how to tie a decent neckcloth. After all, you weren’t expected back for another day or so.”

He raised his eyes heavenward, though he could expect no aid from that quarter. “I might have known.”

Angelica skipped over to him, grasping the lapels of his topcoat. “Oh, Ian, John didn’t write ‘The Vampyre’ about you or other vampires at all! He meant the story to be a gothic lampoon on Lord Byron. They were lovers once,” she added with a blush. “So you see this whole thing was all a great and terrible misunderstanding.”

“I suppose it was,” he said, still frowning at Polidori in exasperation for all the trouble he had caused.

His duchess beamed and clasped her hands together. “Then everything is settled!”

John’s shoulders slumped with relief and he embraced Rosetta. Ian’s subject’s eyes were filled with gratitude as she bowed to him. “How can I ever thank you, Your Grace? I—”

Ian held up a hand. “I am afraid that everything is not ‘settled.’ As Lord of London, I cannot turn a blind eye to a subject’s betrayal.” His gaze shifted to Dr. Polidori’s solemn form. “And as for you, sir, I cannot countenance a mortal writer of your notoriety and subject matter gallivanting around with one of my vampires and holding the secrets of our kind to your breast.”

“Your Grace, I would never reveal—” Polidori began.

“Silence!” he thundered, a headache threatening as he turned back to his subordinate. “Rosetta, I am placing you under arrest for the crime of lying to your lord and revealing yourself to a mortal. You will accompany me to Burnrath House, and you may only feed under my supervision until your sentence is carried out. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she whispered, bowing her head.

He turned to the quaking mortal man, whose pen had caused all this trouble in the first place. “As for you, young physician, as much as I would like to let you go, your fame, coupled with your dangerous knowledge, prevents me from that course of action. Dr. John Polidori, you must die.”