Bite Me, Your Grace (15 page)

Once her thirst was satiated, she was barely able to keep her eyes open as Ian took her into his arms and held her. Sleep closed over her as he whispered sweet love words in her ear.

When Liza woke Angelica and brought her morning chocolate, Ian was gone. At the sight of the sunlight streaming through the windows on the empty side of the bed, she felt a pang of regret that her husband would never be able to enjoy a glorious spring day with her.

“What time is it, Liza?” She rubbed her eyes.

“Past noon, miss, er, I mean, Your Grace,” her maid said with a twinkling smile. “I thought you were going to sleep all day. His Grace must have kept you up nearly all night.”

Angelica could tell from her maid's pink cheeks and glittering eyes that she was bursting with curiosity. “Oh, Liza,” she breathed, “it was
wonderful
!”

The maid raised a brow. “I presume then that he was gentle?”

“Oh yes, gentle and magical and…” She stopped as she heard banging and footsteps down below. “What in the blazes is going on below stairs?”

“The servants are cleaning up after the party, and His Grace has hired a chef and staff. They are all at sixes and sevens.” Liza leaned forward and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Would you believe the duke has never had anyone employed in the kitchens before? I've heard bachelors prefer to dine out most nights, yet one would think a man would occasionally enjoy a meal at home.”

Angelica's heart warmed to hear that Ian had hired people to cook for her. She was going to ask if the chef was English or French, but Liza cut in. “Not only that, but none of his servants lived in the house before today.”

Angelica knew this, as she'd spied on Burnrath House for years. She'd assumed they were afraid of the ghosts, but now she feigned interest. “Indeed?”

Liza nodded solemnly. “Oh, yes. He hired people to come in during the day to clean and had his coachman come along in the evening, but no one was to be allowed in the house after sundown. Though I cannot countenance the silly vampire rumors, His Grace must be very eccentric.”

“Yes, he is,” Angelica agreed, a smile playing across her kiss-swollen lips.

“Now the servants' quarters are being cleaned out so you may have a full staff under your command, and oh!” Liza grinned. “His Grace left written instructions for you to decorate and put the rooms to use
any
way you please! And his coachman is to pick you up at three o'clock for you to select your wedding present.”

He
remembers
that
I
want
a
cat.
Angelica's heart bloomed with love. Her breath caught in amazement as she realized that somewhere in their encounters over the past few months she had fallen in love with him. Unlike all her previous suitors, Ian looked at her as a human being with thoughts and feelings of her own. He did not talk to her in that condescending manner in which most men did. Instead, he answered any question she had with a patient respect that urged Angelica to treat him likewise. And… his fathomless charm, breath-stealing good looks, and melting kisses didn't go amiss, either.

I
am
in
love
with
a
vampire
, she mused.
How
delightful
for
a
gothic
authoress!

She bolted out of bed in excitement, running to the adjoining room to throw open her wardrobe. “What shall I wear today, Liza? Something befitting a duchess…”

Suddenly intimidated by her raised position in society, Angelica lifted her chin, silently vowing to make Ian proud of her. She longed to be the best duchess he'd ever seen.

Liza beamed. “Madame DuPuis and her seamstresses will be here at six o'clock to measure you for your new wardrobe.”

Fighting back an irritated groan at yet another forthcoming interruption to her time with Ian, Angelica replied, “I see now that married life will be busier than I imagined.”

In a few minutes, she was attired in a jaunty, blue-striped carriage dress, holding a blue bonnet with one hand and a pair of white wrist-length kid gloves in the other. The place between her legs ached as she moved, but the soreness was pleasing, for it brought back memories of Ian's passionate lovemaking.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Liza said as they headed downstairs. “His Grace wants to you to hold a ball in honor of your marriage in a fortnight.”

“Bloody hell,” Angelica grumbled in dismay. “I do not know the first thing about how to organize a party. I completely dozed off whenever Mother prattled on about seating arrangements and meal courses.” Now she wished she'd listened to Margaret more often.

Liza gave her a sympathetic smile. “Then you'll have to ask her for help.”

“I suppose I will.” Her mother had dreamed of throwing a grand-scale ball ever since Angelica could remember. “She will be very pleased, I'd wager.”

The change in Angelica's status sank in further as every servant she came across greeted her with bows and curtsies, addressing her reverently as “Your Grace.”

These servants were
hers
, not her mother's. The realization was liberating, albeit somewhat daunting.

The new Duchess of Burnrath spent a delightful hour learning their names and positions, realizing that they were efficient enough to not need her supervision in cleaning the house. On impulse, she decided to order new black and silver livery for the footmen. She placed the order with the butler, Burke, before she set off to explore the house.

She was politely shooed from most of the rooms, but when Angelica entered the library, she refused to budge. The massive chamber of literary treasures was more beautiful than she remembered. The morning light gleamed on every polished mahogany surface, and the smell of paper, parchment, and polish delighted her senses.

Angelica scanned the titles and was delighted to find the works of Catherine Macaulay and Mary Wollstonecraft right alongside the works of Voltaire and Horace. Jane Austen shared a shelf with Shakespeare and Mary Shelley, and John Keats resided with Percy Shelley and Lord Byron. There were also many titles in French, German, and countless other languages. It would take an eternity and a vast education to read them all… and when Ian Changed her, she would.

She looked around, noticing that the servants had left her alone. With one last guilty peek over her shoulder, she leaped onto the wheeled ladder with a whoop of joy. The wheels were well lubricated, and a push of her boot sent her gliding across the room. One hand grasped the ladder, while the other was clasped over her lips to muffle her giddy laughter.

Something on the table caught her eye. Angelica jumped down from the ladder and approached the slab of dark wood. Next to a bouquet of roses newly placed in a vase of Venetian glass lay a book.

A joyous gasp escaped her throat as she saw that it was Mary Wollstonecraft's
A
Vindication
on
the
Rights
of
Woman.
She picked it up and hugged it tightly to her chest. There was no note beside the book, but Angelica knew Ian must have placed it there for her to find. She smiled as she remembered quoting the book to him the night they first met. Her amusement turned to wonder as she realized the gesture must mean he was reassuring her that she would be free with him. After all, the night she officially accepted his proposal, he had said, “A duchess may do what she pleases.”

Angelica recalled that he also had said she could decorate and put the rooms to any use she liked.
I
will
have
a
writing
room!
She practically skipped out of the library, opening doors to find the perfect place to dream up and create her stories.

The room must be cozy but not too small. When she found the smallest guest chamber at the end of the hall she bit back an exclamation of joy and twirled around the dusty room.

Summoning the burliest footmen she could find and two maids, she ordered that everything be cleared out and the room given a good scrub-down. She did her best to imitate her mother's gentle commanding tone when speaking to servants. When a rat scuttled by, making the maids shriek and cling to the footmen, Angelica laughed. “Do not worry. I will be getting a cat to deal with our vermin problem.”

Then the coachman arrived and helped her and Liza into the black and silver coach emblazoned with the Burnrath ducal crest.

“How does one acquire a cat?” Angelica immediately asked.

Felton and Liza exchanged perplexed glances.

“I don't rightly know, Your Grace,” Felton said. “Most of the ladies of the nobility purchase their dogs through breeders, but I'll not be knowing if such a thing is done with cats.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Any farm is sure to be chock-full of barn cats, but we do not have the time for a jaunt through the countryside before your appointment with the dressmaker, if you don't mind my saying.”

Angelica sighed. It appeared that she would not get her first pet today. Then she brightened at the thought of her writing room. “Very well, I would like to purchase a writing desk, and while we're out, I'll inquire of any acquaintances we encounter as to the subject of cat breeders. If we don't learn of any, we shall have to visit a farm tomorrow.”

“A capital plan, Your Grace.” Felton tipped his hat, and with a flick of the reins, they were on the way.

It took visits to three different furniture shops on Bond Street to find the desk of her dreams. But when she did, it took her breath away. The desk was large and made of dark gleaming cherry wood, with gilt paneling and inlaid brass designs on the two cupboards that opened to reveal extra drawers beyond the three above. The drawers were a godsend to Angelica, as she was accustomed to hiding her stories in a meager writing desk that was little more than a lamp table.

“I want this delivered to Number 6 Rosemead Street as soon as possible,” she told the shopkeeper, unable to conceal her joy.

He smiled and bowed. “I commend your selection, milady. I'm sure your husband will be pleased.”

“This desk is not for him; it is for me.” She smiled at the man's surprise and lifted her chin. “I am a writer. Now, what do you have for inkwells?”

On her way to buy paper, she encountered Lady Wheaton and her sister, Claire, outside a milliner's shop.

“Your Grace!” Claire exclaimed with false cheer. “What a pleasure it is to see you. Is the duke with you?” Her expression burned with such an intense combination of jealousy and curiosity that Angelica was momentarily taken aback.

Angelica inclined her head and forced a polite smile. “No. His condition prevents him from being exposed to the sunlight. How are you ladies today?”

“We are well, thank you,” Victoria said stiffly. “I see that you've survived your wedding night. I assume that means that His Grace is not a vampire?”

Angelica resisted the urge to rub the place on her neck where Ian had bitten her the night before and instead used her husband's words the first night they met. “He is a man… a wonderful man,” she added.

“Congratulations, you must be very happy.” Victoria grumbled.

As she surveyed the pair, she remembered Claire's ambitious quest for a titled suitor and Victoria's fervent campaign in aiding her sister. Victoria went so far as trying to ruin Angelica's reputation at the Wentworth ball by bringing her into the card room, where she first met Ian. Her heart fluttered at the thought of her vampire husband.
Victoria
has
my
gratitude, but she would be further vexed if I told her so.

“I am so very glad I encountered you two,” Angelica said cheerfully, ignoring their restrained hostility. “I wanted very much to thank you for what you did at the Wentworth ball. I doubt Ian would have paid me the slightest notice if I had not scorned propriety and entered the card room.” She took a small measure of pleasure as Victoria managed only a grimace of a smile before she continued. “I also wanted to invite you to the ball I will be hosting in two weeks. I do so hope you will come.”

The two assented warily and Angelica continued her peace offering. “Please feel free to advise me on which eligible gentlemen to invite. This will be my first organized entertainment and I do so want to do a capital job.”

Claire lit up like a Christmas candle and began rattling off names so fast it was a wonder she could breathe. Victoria was looking at Angelica with gratitude.

“I would so appreciate it if you would call on me for tea tomorrow afternoon, and we may discuss my guest list in further detail,” Angelica said, preparing to depart. “One more thing. Do either of you happen to know where I may acquire a cat?”

“What a coincidence that you should ask that,” Claire said. “There are two children with a crate full of kittens in front of the apothecary's. I think they are giving them away.”

Angelica would have preferred a full-grown cat to deal with the rat problem right away, but the thought of kittens made her heart turn over in her breast. She clasped Claire's hands in glee, resisting the urge to embrace her. “Oh, thank you! I shall see you both tomorrow then.”

By the time she got to the apothecary shop, there were only three kittens left.

“We didn't 'ave th' 'eart ta drown 'em,” a filthy boy of about eight said.

“Ma told us that if we could find 'omes for 'em, they could live,” his little sister added, wiping her runny nose.

“How long have you been out here?” Angelica asked, alarmed at the sight of the underfed, shivering pair.

“'Bout an hour,” the little boy answered.

A pang of shame hit her as she realized that children such as these two were likely a common sight in even the most fashionable districts. They had merely been invisible to her until Ian pointed them out. Something should be done about this! Her mind roared. But she could do nothing now, except to look at their offering.