The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein (24 page)

“Yes, dear,” Lady Mary affirmed, her tone indicating her doubt. “But I do wonder…” she said, then stopped. Nothing riled her niece more than to have her theories debated.

“Yes?” Clair asked.

“Well, the Earl of Porkerston is not a pig.”

Clair moaned. “Not pigs again.” She would never, if she lived to a thousand, live that incident down.

“Calm down, Clair,” Lady Mary cajoled, patting her niece’s hand. “I just don’t want you counting your werewolves before they’re hatched, or whatever it is they do.”

Ian gave a quiet snicker, and Clair shot him a cool glance then looked again at him in spite of herself. She couldn’t help noticing his long shapely legs stretched out before him. The material of his doeskin breeches fit to perfection. Drat! She felt a delicious ache low in her belly.

Noticing Clair noticing him, Ian gave an almost imperceptible smile. It barely curved his mouth but caused tiny creases at the corners.

Turning her attention back to her aunt, Clair replied, “You and everyone else, it seems.”

The carriage hit a large pothole, its sudden lurch throwing Clair practically into Ian’s lap, while Lady Mary hung on to the carriage straps, barely keeping herself upright. Noting how Clair’s back blocked her aunt’s view, Ian playfully pinched Clair’s breast, just to see her reaction.

She didn’t disappoint him. She puckered up like a prune and gave him a heated glance that almost caused him blisters.

“Rake,” she hissed.

Ian smiled smugly, leaning back against the carriage seat. She was adorable when she was in a huff. She was adorable when she was in her brown study. She was adorable naked. He crossed his legs, wondering if his arousal was conspicuous under his breeches. He hoped Lady Mary didn’t notice the sudden bulge.

Clair was exasperated. Everywhere there were doubters. She wondered if Newton had faced this heavy problem when he kept telling everyone about apples and gravity. They had probably just told him to go bake a pie. Had Trevithic almost run out of steam before anyone accepted his locomotive run on the power of heated water? “I’m not wrong this time,” she said again.

“Hmm,” Lady Mary offered. “If you are right, then this party is probably a very dangerous idea.” She shivered briefly, then smiled at Ian. “I am so glad you are here, Ian, to help protect us from the big bad wolf.”

Hiding his amusement, Ian replied stoically, “My pleasure.” Then he turned and grinned at Clair, hoping she was remembering their pleasures of the other night. She was. She blushed a becoming pink.

Bloody hell, he cursed silently. He was randy as a goat. Two tastes of the luscious Clair had not been enough—would never be enough. He had wanted to make love to her again, but commitments had kept him busy for the past two days.

“When is Galen coming?” Clair asked.

Ian shrugged. “He probably arrived at Wolverton Manor several hours ago, since he was on horseback.”

Clair smiled. “I am glad your cousin could attend,” she said.

Ian nodded, noting that Clair’s aunt was wearing a smile of pure satisfaction, looking quite like the cat that swallowed the canary. He wondered at her smugness.

Lady Mary had been clandestinely watching the two youngsters all the way from London. She knew two lovebirds when she saw them. She smiled a secret smile. Oh, yes! Wedding bells would be ringing if she had her way. And it would be soon. She didn’t want her niece to have a seven-month baby, something upon which gossipmongers would be sure to expound. She smiled her secret little smile again. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ian was too honorable to take Clair’s virtue and not do right by her. And despite her niece’s scientific bent and vows to remain single and pursue her supernatural studies, Clair was head over heels in love with the handsome baron. It was a coup de grâce.

How the other matchmaking mothers would turn pea green with envy! Yes, Lady Mary knew, her Plan A, To Catch a Baron, was running full steam ahead. She would definitely use her stuffed doves for an altarpiece at the wedding.

Stifling the urge to pat herself on the back, she addressed herself to the couple. “Yes, Ian is such a big man. I am sure you need fear no wolf at his door.”

Clair’s frown deepened at her aunt’s comment. She placed a hand on Ian’s arm. “You must let me handle the situation if danger appears. I have come quite prepared.”

Ian didn’t like the sound of that. He liked it even less when she pulled a small derringer out of her valise.

“Silver bullets,” she confided proudly.

“Bloody hell, Clair! Have you got a maggot in your head? Give me that thing before you hurt someone.” He glowered as he reached for the gun.

Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I am an expert shot.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Ian held out his hand, but Clair ignored him. The situation was farcical, ludicrous, and downright scary. Clair with a gun!

Clair’s eyebrows raised in question.

“You’ll shoot somebody accidentally,” he explained. “And being the fine markswoman you are, it could be fatal.”

She slipped the derringer back into her valise. “I promise to keep it hidden away, unless there is an emergency.”

Ian threw up his hands in disgust. “Heaven help us from females carrying guns and driving buggies. What is the world coming to?” His question had both ladies glaring at him and giving him the silent treatment until they were shown to their respective rooms in the earl’s home.

Clair stopped outside the second-floor room assigned to her and her aunt. Mary excused herself and went inside, while Clair stood outside with Ian.

Bowing, he demanded, “You are going to rest after our journey. No snooping, spying, or sneaking around until I can go with you.”

Crossing her fingers behind her back, Clair gave him a sweet smile. “Of course.”

“Of course you’ll rest, or of course you’ll snoop?”

“Rest,” she replied pettishly.

Kissing her forehead, he turned and headed toward the third-floor stairs. Looking over his shoulder he called, “It’s almost dusk. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to supper.”

Clair slipped inside her room, quickly brushing the travel dust off her clothes. She sighed as she glanced at her aunt, who had already taken off her cloak and bonnet. “I wish either my maid or yours could have made the trip with us.”

“You know Karla had that nasty toothache and Pam’s baby was running a fever,” Lady Mary replied.

Removing her bonnet, Clair dropped it on a delicate chair with pale pink flowers. “The earl’s butler told me he would send a maid up later to help us dress.” Unlatching her valise, she pulled her silver comb and brush set out and began brushing the tangles in her waist-length hair. “I thought it odd that the earl wasn’t here to greet us,” she said.

“His butler said he would return shortly. Some emergency with one of the tenants.”

Hmm, Clair mused. “Nonetheless, I guess I shouldn’t look a gift wolf in the mouth.”

“What was that, dear?” Lady Mary asked, straightening from taking off her boots.

“Nothing much. Just a thought.” Clair finished brushing her hair.

Lady Mary surveyed her niece with a critical eye. There was no doubt about it: Clair looked different, more confident, and unfortunately more secretive. “Is there anything you would like to talk to me about?” she probed, hoping Clair would confide in her about a relationship with the baron.

Clair shook her head, setting out her toilette articles. “No.” She couldn’t tell her aunt about Ian yet. It was too new, too personal—and besides, she knew exactly what her aunt would do. She would be married before she could say, “In a pig’s eye.”

Although Clair longed to talk with her aunt, she knew deep down that she could not take the bridal veil just yet. She and Ian had to resolve their differences concerning her research and studies. Ian had to accept her as she was and would always be: as a scientific Frankenstein to the blissful end, even after marriage. Though she knew many women lost their identities when entering the married state, Clair would not allow that to happen.

She grimaced and tied her hair back in a long braid. She loved Ian Huntsley with all her heart. She just had to bring him around to her way of thinking. He was only a man. They weren’t as astute as females. They weren’t as determined as women, and they certainly weren’t as smart. Still, he was her man. She sighed. That part of her body, which had truly been untouched until a few nights before, was throbbing. Her blood was on fire. Her breasts were aching. She was looking forward in a totally unladylike manner to discovering more of Ian’s expertise in lovemaking.

Glancing out the corner of her eye at her aunt, who was slipping into her bedrobe, Clair mused that she and Ian stood little chance of being alone together. Not with everything working against them.

Sensing her niece’s restlessness, Lady Mary asked, “I take it you are undertaking your search now?”

Clair nodded.

“Be careful. Remember the story about that silly young girl who was always running around in that dreadful red cloak.”

“Red Riding Hood?”

“Yes, dear. That’s the one.”

“Your point, Auntie?” Clair questioned, her hand on the doorknob.

“Well, dear, she got eaten!”

Clair kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I’ll be fine.” Then she slipped out the door.

In the hall outside she checked to see if anyone was about. Good, she thought cheerfully. She was alone. Hurrying down three doors, she came to the earl’s chamber, a fact that she had learned earlier by questioning the footman. Since Asher wasn’t in at the moment, it seemed the perfect time to search his room.

Slipping inside, Clair took note of the deep burgundy hues in which the chamber was decorated. They surprised her. She thought a werewolf would be more comfortable in earth tones such as brown and green. Meticulously she made her search, finding nothing, and was just about to slip out the door when she heard the sound of the earl’s voice in the hall.

Stifling a curse, Clair hurried over to the large plush drapes. She slid behind them just as the door opened and someone stepped inside.

Asher walked into his bedchamber, giving it a quick glance as Wilder trailed behind him. He swore as he noticed the pair of delicate green shoes barely visible under the drapes. She’s at it again, he thought with wry amusement. Clair was on the hunt, and she hadn’t been in his home for more than an hour.

Asher started unbuttoning his coat, while Wilder lounged against the wardrobe. “Asher, it’s just a speck of dirt on your sleeve. I don’t see why you have to change the jacket,” the second vampire complained.

“I want to look my best for Clair,” Asher answered with a sly smile. Here was a chance to advance his cause, the sinful seduction of Clair Frankenstein.

Wilder stared at him, stunned. “You truly care for that freakish woman?”

Asher slid his jacket off and reached for another. “Of course. Clair is a lovely lady. She’s a special lady who has quite taken my heart.”

Wilder scowled. “You’re insane, that’s what you are. She’s a Frankenstein and would tell—”

Asher interrupted and hurried him out of the room before Wilder could reveal who and what they were. Still, all in all, Asher patted himself on the back. He would have scored quite a few points in pursuit of Clair’s seduction.

Intrigued by what she’d heard Asher reveal, Clair nevertheless breathed a great sigh of relief when he left. Hurrying out of the room, Clair thanked her lucky stars. How embarrassing it would have been if Wilder had spotted her in the earl’s boudoir. It would have been another humiliating scene to haunt her. The Honorable Christopher Wilder would have thought her a reprehensible Peeping Tom. Of course, he would have been wrong. She was merely a dedicated, hardworking scientist with an inquisitive mind.

Still, Ian would have killed her if she’d been caught in Asher’s room. No, she thought sarcastically, Asher would have killed her. Or it would have been a toss-up between the three men.

And what was she supposed to do about Asher’s feelings for her?

Thirty minutes later, with the clock ticking, Clair finished her search of the earl’s library. She knew Ian would be coming to her room soon. She barely had time to go back upstairs and get dressed.

Shutting the desk drawer, Clair sighed with disappointment. So far her search had come up empty. She had found nothing but an old portrait of an ancestor of Asher’s dressed in an outdated coat and floppy black pirate hat. He really was a handsome wolf. If she hadn’t been in love with Ian, Clair really would be tempted to take a chance on the Wolfman. After all, she did love puppies.

Just as she shut the drawer with a snap, Clair once again heard the unmistakable sound of Asher’s voice. Panicking, she slipped underneath the huge cherry desk.

Asher escorted Lady Montcrief inside his library, his sharp eye searching the room. Wearily, he shook his head. There. He’d spotted a flash of green peeking out from underneath his desk. Clair, again.

“Asher, you are not paying attention to me,” Lady Montcrief complained. She pressed herself against him, running her hands through his burnished chestnut locks. “Come, darling, let’s play a bit.”

Yanking her hands from his hair, he forcefully turned the lusty lady around and escorted her back out the door. He gave no explanations, only shook his head at Lady Montcrief’s antics. But outside he grinned, his white fangs sharp. Clair Frankenstein was like a dog with a very big bone. And she could chew on him anytime.

“Humans,
humans everywhere, and nary a drop to drink,” Asher commented dryly to Ian as he surveyed the assembly of houseguests for his two-day party. The guests were scattered throughout the large music room, each in some variety of activity. Some were playing cards at the far end of the chamber, some were gossiping in small groups, and a few of the ladies read while one played a soft tune on the pianoforte.

The room was elaborately decorated in shades of pale wine and creamy white, with glistening wood paneling. Paintings done by Rubens and Rembrandt were interspersed among the bronze wall sconces. A thick Persian carpet was centered on the floor.