She was smiling. “Well, I am dressed like a rather large violet.” She gave a small curtsy in his arms.
“Like a little larkspur.” Arlo stood, and let her fuss as he knew she wanted to. His collar was fixed, his buttons tweaked, his cravat retied. It was how she demonstrated her love, and when her eyes glowed with pleasure, he realized this was something he could do for her. “Could they make me a topcoat in this wool?”
Now she was very happy, and they kissed slowly, with smiles on their mouths. But when they pulled apart again, she had a new realization in her expression.
“You still had no choice, did you? You woke up here, and you were mine. You know that if it was what you truly wanted, I would let you—”
He didn’t let her finish, and kissed her until she was smiling and convinced once more.
When they broke apart, Angelika said, “Come along, let’s get these men out of our house. Victor might be still asleep, which would be for the best.”
Arlo followed her down the hallway, then put an arm around her waist and stepped in close. Against the back of her ear he said, “Don’t forget who you belong to.”
“I never have,” she replied breathily. She allowed him to hold on to her and it was at the top of the staircase that he halted her again, his arms tighter.
“Don’t forget that you are marrying me.”
The diamonds at her throat shimmered. “I could not forget.”
Now he had to ask her something, and it was not very manly or brave, but he knew he could. “Don’t let them take me.”
The portrait of his mother-in-law, Caroline, had a smile dimpling her cheek when they looked up at her.
“I never will.”
Angelika swept ahead of him into the drawing room, and Arlo tagged along behind to enjoy the drama of her imperial bearing. It would have made Lizzie grab for her notebook. “Pray, tell me the meaning of this early visit,” she said the moment she was in the room. “Explain yourselves at once.”
The three men sitting with empty teacups all jolted.
“Angelika! Are you well?” Christopher’s eyes darted from her throat and creamy bust back to her face. His expression soured when Arlo stepped beside her and put an arm around her waist. “I believe you should unhand her, sir.”
“I will not,” Arlo replied, strengthened by Angelika’s calm power. Christopher was still a very handsome, well-connected man, but he no longer had any chance of winning her heart.
“We are here to ask Will some questions,” Christopher answered her. “There is a strange matter to reconcile, down at the church.”
The church representative looked to Arlo and made his own introduction. “My name is Robert Thimms, and I am Father Porter’s personal valet. He wishes you to meet with him as a matter of urgency. We believe a miracle of some sort has occurred.” A smile split his cheeks unexpectedly.
Christopher addressed Angelika. “Father Porter believes that this is the priest who was sent to replace him.” Miracles did not occur in Christopher’s line of work; only mistaken identities and nefarious motives.
She did not so much as blink. “That man died in a carriage hijacking.”
“That’s what I believed, but apparently not,” Christopher said, narrowing his eyes up and down on Arlo. “Until we can all sit down and sort this out, we need you to come with us, Will.”
Angelika puffed up in outrage. “He goes nowhere.”
Arlo squeezed his arm around her waist in wordless thanks.
Christopher turned his frustration on Arlo. “You remain silent, as you often do. This is the magistrate, Mr. Samuel Carter. He has accompanied us in his official capacity, until we can clear up what I’m sure is a misunderstanding. Let us depart now for his offices.” The threat in his tone was unmistakable.
“How do you do, Mr. Thimms, Mr. Carter?” Arlo gave a polite bow. “I truly can only think of one way to completely clear up this strange matter, and I propose we reconvene at the church at my convenience; that is to say, nightfall. We must ask you to leave now.”
“At your convenience?” Christopher echoed with a sneer and yet another reflexive glance at Angelika’s dress neckline. “Nightfall?”
“Angelika has not eaten her breakfast. I am asking you again to leave. I am not being taken out of here all of a sudden, like a criminal.” The words gave him a pinch, and brought back the memory of being a small boy again. But with his greatest advocate beside him, he felt unmovable.
“And you are not a criminal,” Mr. Thimms placated, giving Christopher a hard stare. “We believe you have had a significant trauma and your circumstances have been . . . most unusual, but God has been with you. Please, we would be most grateful to allow Father Porter an audience with yourself.”
Christopher was irritated and said to Angelika, “Where is Victor? We told your servant to fetch him, but she grew so flustered she could not explain to us where he was. Utterly tongue-tied, she was. She is a nice girl, but you need someone more suited to this household.”
“Victor is asleep,” Angelika guessed, “and my housekeeping staff is absolutely none of your business. Sarah is perfectly fit for the role, and I appreciate her many skills and abilities.” She could go from bland to razor sharp in a blink.
“What’s your proposal?” Christopher asked Arlo, turning his icy blue glare back on him. “When we meet at the church, how can everything be cleared up?”
“I’ll bring a shovel,” Arlo replied, and the three guests fell back in their seats in shock.
It was at this exact moment that the front door banged open. Huffing, puffing, a shirtless Victor Frankenstein appeared, gleaming in sweat. An apple was in his hand.
“What are you doing up so early?” Angelika was aghast. “Where is your shirt?”
“I’ve got nothing but early mornings in my future; I am adapting myself in advance.” Victor leaned in the doorway and raised his eyebrows in greeting at Christopher, carelessly ignoring the other two visitors. He bit his apple and spoke with his mouth full. “Do you ever run for fitness, Chris? We could go together.”
Arlo wasn’t invited. He understood why. He still felt sad.
“We are here on something serious, Victor,” Christopher replied after a shocked laugh, masked as a cough. “Perhaps you ought to take a seat, so I may introduce your guests and we can explain it.”
“After a quick wash,” Angelika pleaded wearily, knowing when she was beaten. “Please, Victor, you absolutely stink.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
This feels a little extreme,” Victor said from above as Arlo shoveled dirt up beside his boots. “I can’t believe you, of all people, agreed to this, Chris.”
“It was his idea,” Christopher pointed out, putting his shovel into the ground and leaning on it. “And if it puts this nonsense to rest, then I’m all for it.” He resumed digging, but his pace was much slower than his first couple of hours when he’d glanced up at his beautiful onlooker with every repetition.
Arlo was this close to knocking him on the back of his blond head and reusing the grave.
“How are you feeling?” Angelika asked Arlo from her seat beside the headstone.
She had tasked a clerk to bring her a chair as though spectatorship was to be reasonably expected, and she sat on the fine mahogany piece under a dome of night sky that bore ribbons of sunset pink. She looked every bit the fairy queen, seated beneath the yew tree clasping around her. She had dressed in a midnight-black gown, beaded with so many jet stones that she sparkled brighter than the cosmos. Beneath the skirts were long black boots, laced up to the knees.
Arlo decided he’d leave those boots laced up when he undressed her later.
“Are you all right?” Angelika prompted him. “You look a little pale.”
Arlo’s physical exhaustion, the pain that shimmered across his skin to grind deep into his joints, his icy-dead hands, the astonishing mental toll it took to dig beneath a marble stone bearing one’s own name and birthday . . . none of that interested him now, because Angelika smiled down at him. A star streaked across the sky above her.
His emotions overflowed.
“Angelika, no woman is as beautiful as you.” Arlo knew this to be absolute truth, because he now had every memory his brain had decided to retain, from dropped-corncob moments to the life-altering losses of his grandparents and Michael. Waist deep in his grave, he leaned an elbow on the edge and made a memory of this moment. “I love you so much.”
In reply, she cooed and leaned down to cup his chin in her palm.
“Keep digging, Sir Resurrection,” Christopher interjected in a complaining tone.
“Did you mention our news to the commander, my love?” Recharged, Arlo sank his shovel into the ground and his news like a dagger into Christopher’s heart. “I asked Angelika to marry me, and she said yes most emphatically. I am sure you are very happy for us.”