Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(21)
“I saw it on your dressing table. I read it. I’ve felt terrible for prying.” Will did look guilty.
“Hardly prying, when it has traveled the world ten times by now. Victor has always wanted to be famous; now he most assuredly is. Lizzie’s father was livid. Threatened to expel him from his secret society. We traveled to Russia to handle the situation. His grand plan was to be so boring that she rejected him.”
“I don’t think he could manage being boring for long.”
“No, indeed.” Angelika smiled. “Lizzie is a playwright, and funny, and beautiful. Anyhow, we went to let her reject him, but found ourselves in a caravan following her acting troupe through some very remote parts of Russia. Her first play is The Duchess and the Bear. She forced Vic to wear the bear costume, night after night, while villagers threw sticks at him on the stage. My job selling tickets was much better.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh. “That bear costume in the corner of my room is his?”
“She’s the duchess. He’s the bear. Some things are just meant to be, even if falling in love with her was a catastrophe for him, on an intellectual level. To marry her, he has to declare himself a hypocrite. He’ll be a laughingstock. The anti-marriage man takes a wife. But he doesn’t care anymore.”
“I suppose you are hoping for something that dramatic yourself?” Will now looked at her like he was afraid. “I feel I am quite a letdown.”
“Please remember how we met and reexamine your statement.”
“I feel quite sure that I am a dull person in comparison. I cannot see myself traveling with a Russian troupe.”
“All my interesting stories feature my brother. I’ve merely invited myself along to anything I could. That is what it is like for a woman. I can’t wait to get out from under his wing. But anyhow! We are having our own adventure tonight.”
Will moved his mount closer to hers. “Your morgue outfit is quite special. That color suits you well.”
It was a turquoise riding habit, with swirling skirts. Heinously expensive, of course. Angelika preened her sleeve. “I always dress like I have a date with destiny.”
This was a reference to her husband hunt, and it did not please him. “Do the villagers say anything about how you ride astride?”
“If sidesaddle versus astride is what occupies their pathetic conversations, then I feel sorry for them. Be glad it was me who experimented upon you, my love. The villagers would have used your body for target practice.”
Will huffed in amusement. “Sometimes it feels like you do the same.”
“Alas, I do not use you for any kind of practice. Come now, before the place gets overrun.” She grinned at his expression and pressed her heels against Percy’s sides, urging him on. “What did you name your horse, by the way?”
His smile faded. “I cannot think of a thing to name him.”
They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence. She had a pistol in her saddlebag but suspected that Will would always make her feel safe. Victor usually rode on ahead, causing her horse to pull and fret, but Will maintained his mount level with her own and checked to make sure she had seen low-hanging branches or poor footing.
And the more truly herself she was, the more he looked at her. She had no need to pretend feminine incompetence, or to hold back a curse when Percy stumbled. A log in her way? She jumped it. He liked the wildness in her. She saw proof in the curl of his lip, and the glances he gave.
And one thing more: it felt like they were equals. They were a well-matched pair on some well-matched horses, riding in the falling dark through fragrant fields of cut lucerne hay. Being with Will felt like a dream she didn’t want to wake up from, and she cursed how close the village was. Up above, her favorite constellation appeared normal. She double-counted the stars. “Victor was right, as always,” she grumbled to herself. “I was mistaken on that.”
It was only when they reached a fork in the lane and he looked to her askance that she realized he was riding by her side because he did not know the way.
Ah, Angelika, she said to herself. Always making something out of absolutely nothing. When they arrived at the morgue, they tied their mounts. Will seemed spooked and hung behind to needlessly recheck some part of his horse’s tack.
Compassion swelled in her and she tucked her hand firmly into the crook of his elbow.
“You’ve been here before. Remember, not a word about the science that Victor and I undertake. We’ll be locked up as heretics. To this man, we are trainee doctors.”
Will pulled a face. “But that’s going to make things very difficult.”
“Be creative. Impress me with your quick thinking.”
“Not you again,” Helsaw said dourly when he saw her approach. “Ain’t you got enough bits and bobs for whatever it is you do?”
“That’s none of your concern.” She put a lace handkerchief over her nose. “How’s business, Helsaw?”
“Prices ’ave gone right up,” he warned, glancing to Will behind her. “But I deal with your brother on that. Who’s this geezer?”
“This is my good friend Will.” They had not worked out a surname.
Will covered smoothly. “Sir William Black. I’m here to ask you some questions, if I may.”
“You may not. You know I do not allow just anybody here, Miss Frankenstein,” Helsaw spluttered, until Angelika held up a shilling. “You may ask me anything you wish, Sir Black,” he amended in a much better tone. “If I know the answer, I will tell you honestly.”