Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(32)

“You would never love another man. You would live and breathe for me. You would take me into your body every hour. I know you, Angelika,” he impressed on her as she slumped forward, limp on his shoulder. “And I cannot wait for you to know me.” He put his hands on her waist and moved her back to her seat. He was flushed and disheveled.

She stared at him, too stunned to be embarrassed. “Imagine what a really rough cobblestone lane in London could do to me.”

“I would dearly love to find out.”

“If we let the horses walk, we could make the trip to Larkspur take twice as long.”

Realization dropped into his eyes like a screen. “Oh, Angelika. When I said—”

“Of course, it is just a pleasant story we tell each other in the moment.”

They rode in silence for several miles. It was obvious that passion was clearing from his head, and he now deeply regretted what had come to pass. Several times, he tried to start a sentence, and all of them gave her a feeling of dread.

Angelika drew back the curtain. “We are nearly home.”

When she picked up the bottle of Scotch, it caught Will’s attention.

“The hamper you are making, for the bereaved wife of the dead officer . . . How are you going to deliver it to her?”

“I know the street she lives on, and her name.”

The shadows cut across the carriage now, turning it chilly. The truth should have been something he would have had to crowbar out of her, but he held her strings like a puppeteer so effortlessly.

He didn’t even have to open his mouth to ask.

“Clara,” she said, and the carriage stopped in front of Blackthorne Manor. She didn’t wait to be handed down, but jumped out without a backward glance, like she had done all her life.

“I think you have a wife named Clara. Does that spark perfect memories for you?” She hardly knew why she asked, because she ran inside before she could hear his answer.





Chapter Nine


We should talk—” Will began at breakfast the next day, but Angelika clapped her hands over her ears. She still heard him finish. “—about other ways to investigate my past. If you are amenable, I might write letters to some investigators in London.”

“I thought you’d want to talk about my discovery,” Angelika confessed as she lowered her hands. Or did he want to discuss how she had dissolved from that kiss? She forced herself to speak. “You still don’t feel anything when I say the name Clara?”

He shook his head. “I remember nothing about myself.”

Mary dropped a basket of bread between them onto the table and put her hands on her hips. “Where is that girl? No point calling for her.” She walked out after this nonsensical statement, seemingly in search of someone.

Will’s brandy-brown eyes were steady and sad. “I don’t deserve to stay in this house, after what I did to you in the carriage. I think I should prepare to leave.”

Angelika was taken aback. “You didn’t do anything to me. I did something to you. I climbed on top of you, and I—” She tried to think of how to describe it. “I accidentally enjoyed myself too much.”

Now the look in his eyes was feral and black. It suited him. “Angelika,” he warned, and the growl gave her a delicious shiver. “I acted very wrongly. You ran from me and hid all night.”

“I was worried I’d gone too wild.” She refolded her napkin, wondering how much to confess. “The minutes where the heartbeat slows are terrifying. You look at me like you’ve made a mistake, and I’m not a mistake. I’m your Angelika.”

His smile was a relief. “You are.”

They were interrupted by Mary. There was a second person, hanging back in the shadows of the hall. Angelika squinted. “Who’s there?”

Mary turned and beckoned. “Meet your new maid.”

A sturdily built tall girl of around sixteen years crept into the room.

“How do you do?” Will said. “What is your name?”

Mary spoke again. “This is Sarah, and she’s as shy as they come. Barely says a word. I thought she’d be a good fit for this ungodly household, and will keep her mouth shut in the village about whatever she sees here.” After Sarah nodded meekly, Mary went to the fireplace and began vigorously thwacking the burning log with a poker, releasing sparks into the room. “She’s sent by her parents to find work, after they lost it all. Her father was a gambler and a fool. She’s staying at the boardinghouse. My sister recommends her.”

Angelika waited until the blushing, downcast girl chanced a glance at her. “How do you do, Sarah? It’s quite all right if you are a shy sort.”

The girl gulped and nodded helplessly.

“Is the boardinghouse comfortable for you? Is it warm, and are you given a hearty supper?”

Angelika regretted the question when the girl grimaced, rubbing her hands together as if in memory, and looked at Mary’s back. Of course she would not speak against her landlady with her sister present. “It is too cold,” Angelika surmised. “And the food is slop.”

When Sarah made eye contact again, there was humor in her expression. She risked a nod before Mary turned back to them.

“Whilst not compulsory, reading and writing is a nice thing to do,” Angelika continued. “Have you had those opportunities?”