The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein (20 page)

But beggars couldn’t be choosers. She knew she had little choice but to pretend to have a tendresse for the Earl of Wolverton. She hoped it would drive Ian crazy with jealousy, and pay him back for his villainous lie. Her brilliant plan also would give her time alone with the earl to gather information. It was an inspired campaign, Plan B. And Clair was highly anxious to put it into play.

“You haven’t seen the Earl of Wolverton here tonight have you?” she asked her friend slyly. “I’ve been searching for him, but nothing so far.”

Arlene paled. “So that’s your intention?” she gasped. “Gads, Clair. It will get you maimed or dead or even worse. You’ll end up all furry once a month.” She shuddered. “If that happens, I have to admit it will put a crimp in our friendship. Mother will never allow me around wolves, even if one of them happens to be my best friend.”

Clair rolled her eyes. “Do calm yourself, Arlene. I am only going to flirt with the earl a little and make Ian jealous,” she explained as she pushed Arlene forward and away from the ferns. “Come on, let’s see if I can find out if the earl has arrived.”

Out in the main room, Ian impatiently shifted his feet, his eyes never leaving the area where Clair had disappeared. He scowled. Besides ignoring him, the little imp was hiding. Yes, today was a very unlucky day, he ruminated darkly. Very unlucky indeed. It was in this sour mood that his cousin found him.

“You look deuced down in the mouth, laddie,” Galen professed. He joined Ian in holding up the wall. “I take it you’re not still moping about the old lady beating you. Although, for a noted Corinthian such as yourself, I guess it would be a trifle humiliating.” He grinned at Ian’s expression and added, “You could always have popped her cork.”

“Go away,” Ian snapped.

“No can do. Misery loves company.”

“I am fine by myself,” Ian retorted stiffly.

“Aye, I can see that,” his cousin said sarcastically. He glanced around the room. “You stand here in a black funk, your expression so forbidding that no one but me will dare come near you.”

He gestured at several ladies standing nearby with hopeful expressions. “They are just waiting for a smile to come and lift that woebegone expression off your ugly mug.”

Ian snorted derisively. “Just what I want—more women. I have enough trouble with the one.”

“Ah. The light dawns. You are having a Clair problem, I take it. What has the lass done now—besides hiding in wardrobe closets, chasing vampires, stalking supposed werewolves, and driving you clear around the bend?”

“What else? The woman wishes me to the Devil.”

Galen studied him then dryly commented, “A feat you have accomplished at least a dozen times if I recall.” Pulling on his cravat, he added, “Damn, if you don’t always find your way back.”

“Very amusing.” Ian ignored his cousin. His attention focused on Clair, for he saw her emerge from behind some ferns and flutter her eyelashes at some young fop. His jaw tightened. He knew Clair never fluttered her eyelashes. At least not at him. “Why on earth do we need women anyway?” he asked.

Galen glanced over at Clair. “To bed them, silly. Not to mention the continuation of the species.”

“She won’t let me within ten feet of her,” Ian complained sourly.

“They also smell quite nice. I believe Clair smells of something fresh. Pinecones in winter, maybe,” Galen suggested.

Ian glowered at him. “What are you doing sniffing about her?”

“Really, coz, take hold of yourself. Clair is a fine figure of a lass, but she is too much Frankenstein for me. If I ever do decide to take a leg-shackle, it would be someone more biddable, someone who would cater to my every need, who would sit quietly at home and raise my bairns. Not a Clair-type at all. I want someone a little less of a romp and, most importantly, devoid of a lineage peppered with lunatics.”

“I’ve said nothing of marriage. You know how I feel about that estate. Watching one’s mother nearly grieve herself to death over one’s father tends to make one extremely cautious. Besides, how would Clair ever fit in with our family?”

Galen tested the waters. “She’s a Frankenstein. She has that indomitable spirit.” He was pretty sure his cousin was in so deep as to be drowning. He could see that Ian was in love with Clair Frankenstein. In some ways that was a good thing, in other ways it seemed very, very bad.

Ian suddenly stiffened. Asher had entered the ballroom. Noticing his cousin’s distraction, Galen turned towards the door.

“I see Asher is doing the rounds. But why is he here? He despises routs.”

“Clair,” Ian explained in a growl. “Bloody hell!” He watched Asher approach Clair, a dazzling false smile on the man’s face. “I should have killed him when I had the chance!” he snarled.

“My, coz, you do love to live dangerously.” Galen thoughtfully watched the situation unfold while his cousin cursed.

With his usual savoir faire, the Earl of Wolverton strolled toward Clair, a pretentious and predatory air about him. Upon reaching her and her friend Arlene, Asher bowed, seduction clearly on his devious mind.

“Bloody hell!” was Ian’s only comment. He watched with glittering eyes and a fierce expression.

Yes, Galen decided. The fat was in the fire. Ian was clearly in love, and Asher, the seducer of many a fair maid, was interested in the same bit of woman.

“How
you look, Miss Frankenstein. ‘She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies,’” Asher quoted, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “You are absolutely ravishing.” Then, doing the pretty, he turned to compliment her friend. “And you, Miss Garwood, are delightful.”

Arlene blushed, enchanted despite her fear of the earl. He was such a libertine, with such a wicked reputation. That was enough to put a blush on any innocent maid, especially when said earl was also reputedly the Wolf man of London. Clair raised a delicate brow.

Noting her poised coolness, Asher added, “Miss Frankenstein, I feel I owe you an apology for my less than gentlemanly remarks the other night.”

Mischievously Clair quipped, “The Earl of Wolverton is apologizing? I feel the earth on its axis spinning to a halt. I fear the Elgin marbles will crumble to dust. Ah, St. Peter must surely be turning over in his grave.” Smiling, she patted his arm with her fan and gave him a come-hither look.

Asher smiled wickedly, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Perchance are you flirting with me, Miss Frankenstein?”

“I believe I am too wise to do such a bold and dangerous thing.”

Asher glanced around the ballroom. “Where is your champion?” he asked. Spying Ian, he added scornfully, “I see Huntsley is over there. He rather reminds me of a supporting column. Why, and he looks rather blue-deviled.”

“I would say he probably is. Traitors never fare well, you know,” Clair remarked coolly.

Asher chuckled, his expression smug. “Trouble in paradise so soon?”

Clair hit him with her fan. “You, my lord, are too pert for your own good.”

“Let me show you how pert,” he replied arrogantly. He took her arm, excusing them from Arlene, and said, “Come, my pretty.” He led Clair to a window embrasure at the far end of the room. Pulling the curtains aside, he ushered her within.

She went without protest, amazed her plan was going so smoothly. She had baited the trap, and the wolf was biting.

Dropping the drapes back in place, Asher admired Clair’s composure and beauty. “Alone at last,” he said.

She laughed. “With only two hundred guests, give or take a few, all a simple shriek away.”

“You are a charming minx,” Asher teased, touched by how uniquely beautiful Clair Frankenstein was. She was relentlessly intelligent, with a burning desire to discover the unknown. She had a sharp wit that he admired, and her bloodline, though not quite as top-of-the-trees as he would have liked, was still acceptable. He barely even minded that she was a Frankenstein. Actually, having that monster in her family was a point in Clair’s favor. If one already had a monster at home, why quibble at two?

“How astute of you to notice, my lord.”

“Call me Neil,” he enticed.

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Asher, then.”

“All right,” she agreed hesitantly. “In private.”

“Ah, then you anticipate more private moments,” he remarked. A devilish gleam filled his eyes. “Speaking of private…” He trailed off, moving closer.

Clair laughed, holding up her hands to ward him off. “You are all talk.”

Asher grinned, hand over his heart. “You wound me. I have a rakish reputation to uphold.”

“Uphold it with some other lady and behave yourself, Asher,” she retorted.

“I will cease if you will grant me a boon.”

“A boon?” Clair asked apprehensively. She understood that it was all well and good to make Ian jealous, but right now it seemed she had a tiger by the tail—or rather a werewolf.

Asher laughed at her fears. “Let me call you Clair.”

Clair breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

Before more could be said by either party, the drapes were shoved aside and Clair was suddenly standing face-to-face with a very angry Ian. “Have you no care for your reputation?” he cried. “Asher is a renowned womanizer, and here you are alone with him.” His fists clenched, his green eyes burning with rage.

With undisguised interest, Asher examined the byplay between the two. “The cavalry arrives,” he remarked.

Ian glared. “Stay out of this, Asher!” Returning his attention to Clair, he bitterly scolded her, “You don’t know what you’re doing. Believe me, Asher’s bite is much worse than his bark.”

Asher arched an elegant shoulder. “That’s rather the pot calling the kettle black,” he said.

Ian ignored him, searching Clair’s eyes for some tiny spark of forgiveness. “Asher’s not to be trusted,” he went on.

“And you are?” Clair inquired coldly. As she took in Ian’s fierce countenance, she could feel waves of jealousy rolling off him. Plan B was a smashing success. Somehow she managed to hide her triumph.

Her words struck Ian forcibly. With a pained expression, he beseeched her, “Clair, forgive me. Please? I am sorry, truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Asher jumped in with both feet. “But you did hurt her, didn’t you?” the top-lofty earl accused. Taking Clair’s hand in his, he craftily added, “I told you Ian would wound you. It’s in his nature.”

Ian snatched Clair’s hand away from Asher, a feral look coming into his eyes. “Back off, Asher. She’s mine.”

Clair snatched her hand away from Ian. “In a pig’s eye!” And with those words Clair departed pertly, leaving a forlorn and frustrated Ian and a very amused Asher.

“She’s an intriguing woman. You don’t have to worry any longer that I will kill her,” the Earl of Wolverton remarked.

Ian turned, his fists clenched. “She’s mine, Asher, and what’s mine I hold,” he growled. He would never let Clair end with Asher. The earl wasn’t fit to touch the ground Clair walked on. “Take my words to heart, Asher. Back away or blood will be spilled. Yours!”

“Oh, I do hope for blood,” Asher taunted. “I could use a good drink.”

Ian advanced, his eyes glowing a dark green. “This is no game. And Clair is not prey.”

Asher only shrugged. “Threats won’t work. Besides, you should be overjoyed that I no longer see Clair’s research as a problem. In point of fact, I have resolved the problem with Miss Frankenstein’s belief that I am a werewolf—or it will resolve itself.” He shuddered in amused revulsion at the word “werewolf.” His was noble blood, the blood of both earls and vampires, and certainly not that of some four-footed creature at the beck and call of the moon.

“And how, pray tell, have you done that?” Ian asked.

“I will invite Clair and her aunt to be guests at a small country house party I am having that starts on Tuesday.”

Despite his anger, Ian caught on quickly. “Wednesday is the full moon. And when you don’t change into a wolf, Clair will be there to witness your nontransformation.”

“Quite.” Asher’s expression was bland, not revealing his devious Plan A, which he had named From Here to Eternity and had Clair in the starring role. The unshakable Earl wanted Clair with an intensity that shocked him.

“How will you manage the days?” Ian asked. “Clair is a suspicious creature by nature.”

“Again, that is calling the kettle black,” Asher laughed.

Ian scowled.

“The guests will arrive late Tuesday afternoon. I will be called away on an emergency through Wednesday day, and Thursday the guests will be leaving in the morning.”

Ian nodded, his expression grim. “Not bad. But Clair is going nowhere near you without me. I take it I am invited?” It was really not a question.

“I had really rather hoped to avoid it,” Asher replied. He turned his back and departed.

“I will see you on Tuesday,” Ian called out. His cousin Galen approached with a wry expression on his face.

“Gripping performance, coz. Dare I ask if there will be an encore?” he inquired.

Ian grunted and started to leave.

“Where are you going?” Galen asked.

“To find Clair.”

“She left right after she spoke with you.”

“Bloody hell! I wonder which rout she went to next?”

Galen shrugged and Ian stalked away, muttering under his breath, “Just wait till I find the little hellion.”

“Isn’t love grand?” Galen remarked to no one in particular.

Several routs later, Clair would have agreed with Galen’s assessment in spite of her ill humor. She stood impatiently tapping her slippers as she waited for Ian to show up at the Bennington manor and glare at her. So far he had tracked her to the Faltisek fete and the Love rout. She was fairly sure that he would put in an appearance at the Benningtons’, the last event of the evening.

Her anger was dwindling as Ian chased her around the town. At the beginning of the evening, she had wanted to give him a piece of her mind. Now she realized he had a huge piece of her heart, the swine.

Love was scary, exciting, and, utterly remarkable, Clair determined. And the reality of it was so much better than all her lonely midnight fantasies. Ian had touched an invisible part of her, hidden even from herself. He had made her whole. He both completed her and complemented her. Together they shared an inseparable nature like atoms with covalent bonds—a theory her uncle Victor was considering. If only Ian hadn’t lied to her.