“I shall light a bonfire,” Victor told the small assembly. “I have some Chinese firecrackers, too, and a huge piece of cheese. We shall make up ghost stories and have a laugh.”
As they all pushed back their chairs, Angelika watched Christopher. If he found this outdoor sojourn odd, he didn’t show it—except for a flicker in his eyes that might have been frustration. He had probably been counting on adjourning for brandy as an opportunity to corner and cross-examine Will.
Angelika watched Christopher, and Will watched Angelika.
The entire evening had been both pleasant and tense.
Christopher had arrived early with an enormous bouquet of flawless hothouse roses that Angelika had dutifully admired for approximately one second before looking back to the carriage, where her other dinner guest, Clara Hoggett, was emerging, with a very important package.
“Give him here,” Angelika had begged, arms up, and the bouquet was completely forgotten in favor of the baby. Luckily, Christopher had laughed good-naturedly, saying, “She’s mad over this little chap.”
Will leaned against the porch in shadow and did not initially come over to admire Edwin. When pressed to do so, he had offered a tense half smile and let the tot hold on to his finger. The heart-stopping, womb-squeezing moment was merely an illusion, but Angelika snatched it and sewed it into a momentary reality, one where she was also a good person.
Inviting Clara had not been an act of kindness, but one of selfishness.
Angelika forgot everyone in the room except Edwin. She talked only to him, in cooing nonsensical prattle. She had sat with him on her lap for the entire first course, kissing his head while he played with her spoon and her soup went cold. The smell of his flossy hair was a drug stronger than opium. He was heavy and humid, and she loved him to distraction. At some point, he’d started to sob, and Clara took him away to change him and let him nap in his basket in the drawing room. Angelika had almost cried herself.
When she blinked herself out of this haze to be fully present for the first time, she noticed that things were not going as she had planned. For example:
She had arranged the seating to keep Will and Christopher apart; but someone (Lizzie) had switched them to be sitting opposite each other like chess opponents, with Angelika between them at the head of the table. Christopher had taken on the burden of keeping conversation running and had repeatedly tried to engage Will in various topics, but his answers were short.
Christopher: “What county did you grow up in, Sir Black?”
Will: “I shouldn’t think you’d know it.”
Christopher: “And your parents? Are they still with us?”
Will: “Both passed, sadly.”
Christopher: “The roast beef not to your liking?”
Will: “I do not eat meat.”
Christopher: “Any particular reason?”
Will: “It smells like death.”
Clara had been quiet and deferential, staring around the enormous dining room with worried eyes, and she tried to cover as much of her threadbare dress as possible with her napkin.
Lizzie and Victor had drunk too much. They frequently dropped their voices to a whisper, then broke into dirty chuckles. Victor was distracted by Lizzie’s low neckline, and she knew it. He never finished a sentence, and twice left his seat to look out the window because he thought he’d seen bats.
The Frankensteins were not good hosts. But it was not too late to turn things around.
Now, as they all put on warm clothing to go outside, Clara approached Angelika. “Thank you so much again for inviting me. And thank you again for your kind deliveries. The ham is as delicious as you said, and your apples are the best I’ve ever had.”
“Think nothing of it, but I hope you aren’t leaving just yet?” Angelika replied. “Thank you for loaning me your luscious little baby. He’s very quiet, no? I might just quickly look in on him.”
Mary said in the foreboding tone of a jailor, “Sarah’s sitting with him now. Attend to your guests, Miss Frankenstein.”
Clara smiled. “It was nice to give my arms a rest. As you know, he’s frightfully heavy. And it was a nice diversion to dress up and enjoy a lovely meal. I feel almost like my old self tonight. It reminded me of when Henry was here; we always went to balls and dinners. Your house is very grand.” Clara smiled up at Christopher as he stepped forward to help her tug her cloak around her shoulders. “It makes the homes for let I have seen seem very shabby indeed.”
Angelika was perplexed. “But why are you looking at new homes? Your cottage is very snug, and I’m sure Edwin likes everything just so.”
Clara smiled, but she was sad. “My cottage belongs to the academy. Commander Keatings has been most patient. And he was also very kind to collect me in his carriage.”
“It was my pleasure,” Christopher replied. “Come, shall we see what adventures await outside?” Gallantly, he offered Clara his arm. Holding those muscles would be another fine treat for her tonight. He added, “I do hope it will not be too cold for you, ladies.”
Behind Angelika, Will said in a dry tone, “Victor builds his fires too large. I think you shall be overwarm in minutes.”
“That’s true,” Angelika agreed, surprised that Will had noticed this trait. “You know him like a brother, I think.”
As Christopher and Clara walked outside, Angelika noticed they looked quite fine together. It prompted a hot, quick emotion that she did not have time to examine because Will was wrapping her velvet capelet around her shoulders.
“My thanks,” Angelika said absently, watching Clara’s face turn up to Christopher’s as they stepped out into the night. Even in her mourning grief, Clara would have to notice he was exceptionally handsome. Angelika itched to follow but remained in the frame of Will’s arms as he tied the ribbon at her throat. The scratches on his hands were not yet healed, she noticed.
The garden now looked marvelous, and the house was shining like a black button, but at what cost?
She asked him, “How are you feeling lately? Any more dizziness?” Mary was gone, and they were alone now in the dark hall.
With a heroically small amount of censure, Will replied, “I am finding talking about myself very dull.”
She turned to him and smoothed the lapels of his beautifully tailored coat. “I’m sorry I left you to fend for yourself.”
He frowned in the direction of the courtyard. “You don’t need to fend for me. But I would have at least expected some help from Victor in managing the conversation.” His tawny eyes were wry when he looked back at her. “It’s clear what came over you. Fat, tufty hair, rather whiffy at one point—does that assist your recollection?”
Angelika winced. “I wish I had a mysterious temperament.”
Will sighed heavily. “Your commander is presently testing a theory that I am a fortune hunter, here to drain you dry. I’m out of ways to deflect.” Now he was slowly, gently pressing her flat against the wall and lifting her chin with his palm.
She said on an exhale, “He is not my commander.”
“I should hope not. And you are not his.” Will considered her face, but instead of the kiss she was anticipating, he said, “It is a shame that he does not know the truth about me.”
“Why?”
“He thinks you merely beautiful, and rich, and unmarried. He doesn’t even know your full intellect and capabilities and what you have achieved. I am the proof.”
“That’s kind,” Angelika began, but his lips moving on her earlobe stole her breath.
“And he definitely doesn’t know what your mouth tastes like, or how you look up to your neck in bathwater. He doesn’t know how your breath catches in your throat when you’re about to come apart, and how easily you can.”
Now he bit down on her earlobe, and reality melted.
Her only thoughts were fantasies of him: the angle of Will’s thighs as she knelt between them, her reflection in the shine of his leather boot, his knuckles against her nape, his hands deep underneath her bedcovers, touching between her legs.
This hold on her ear was a reminder, and a warning: Do not notice other men when you know what I can do for you. The gentle bite he held her with now was soothed by the touch of his tongue, and when he released her, she let out a gasp that echoed around them.
“He doesn’t know you like that, does he?”
Now Will put his mouth on her throat, and every kiss on her pulse wrought more gasps, though she tried to quiet herself. She felt him inhaling deep, greedy for the scent of her body.
The doorway to the courtyard was open, and she could see a long, neat shadow.
She managed, “Only you know me.”
Will kissed her lips now, quick and desperate. His mouth opened hers, and they were pulling at each other’s shoulders. Slip of tongue, edge of tooth. His erection pressed into her stomach, and it reminded her body of how empty it was.