Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(33)

Sarah spoke for the first time, soft and halting. “I went to school, until Father had his troubles. I have not kept up my writing and reading.”

“Well, it is not too late to start again. You can borrow books from the library here,” Angelika told her, and the girl nodded. To Mary, she ordered: “Sarah will have one hour, paid, after breakfast, to practice her reading and writing. You are not to make her feel guilty about it. Am I clear?”

Mary grumbled. “It’s about ruddy time I had some help around here, now she takes time off? The messes I find in the morning! The library was ransacked last night.”

“It was probably just how Victor left it.”

“Hardly. I think we had another thief. And a message from the military academy arrived.” Mary added in a bellow at Sarah, “Give her the mail. Are you heading to war, mistress?”

At that exact moment, a movement caught everyone’s attention.

Angelika clapped. “Victor!” It wasn’t her brother, but it was his pigeon on the sill. Angelika went to the little messenger and gave it a crust while she unfastened the leather tube from its leg. Sarah’s mouth hung open. Unrolling the minuscule parchment, Angelika said, “Finally, we have some news. Victor will be here tomorrow morning. And Lizzie is also on her way and will be here by tonight.”

Because she enjoyed secrets, Angelika decided not to read aloud his postscript: Get Grandmama’s big diamond ring out of your jewelry box and polish it, Jelly! I hope it’s fit for a duchess’s finger. It made her grin. At last, a sister. “Where shall we put her?”

“We’re running out of space,” Mary said, but it wasn’t her usual complaining tone. The mere presence of Sarah, with her youth and energy, had apparently lifted a weight from her ancient shoulders. “If Master Victor did not use so many bedrooms for storage, we could accommodate an entire wedding party.”

Will volunteered in an instant. “Is there a bed in the servants’ quarters? I’m taking up space that you do not have.”

“No room upstairs, neither.” Mary thought for a moment. “There’s the servants’ cottages on the hill past the orchard, but they’re barely fit for Belladonna. Won’t she be pleased to have Victor back? Never would I have believed that a pig could pine.”

“Those cottages will be fine. I cannot believe I did not consider how many rooms were available. I’m very sorry,” Will said. “What an inconvenience I have been.”

“There is plenty of room,” Angelika told him, walking to clasp his shoulders. He did look ever so rattled. When Mary and Sarah had left the room, she unfolded Christopher’s correspondence. She’d expected a date and time to visit Clara Hoggett but was confronted by a full-page letter. “Of course his handwriting is this neat,” she said, reading.

“What does he say? That he was positively enchanted by you?” Will said, downing his tea with a vicious gulp. He turned in his chair, and Angelika stood between his boots, stroking through his hair as she read.

“He was a little enchanted . . .” Angelika felt her cheeks heating again under Will’s stare. “But I’ve received letters like this before. It doesn’t mean anything.” At the foot of the page was a postscript about their joint mission to visit Clara in her time of need. “We are going to visit the widow tomorrow.” She folded the letter back up and pocketed it.

“I wish you wouldn’t find it strange that men want to know you,” Will said. He held up his hand in a silent request.

“They’re sore? And cold. My goodness.” As she massaged, unbending his curled fingers, noticing his winces and hard blinks, she wondered if he would still experience these tremors of jealousy and possession if another had not appeared on the scene.

A dreadful thought occurred to her. “You should be warned that if you fall in love with Lizzie, Victor will drain your life right back out of your body. And I might help him.”

“I won’t,” Will replied with a glint in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be possible.”

“She’s young and lovely, and so very funny.” She heard the worry, so patently obvious, in her voice. Rub, rub—she put her heat into his hands, until he took them both back, testing his fingers.

Gently, he repeated: “I won’t. Thank you. They feel better.” He reached up and smoothed both hands down the sides of her body in a long stroke. It felt like: I could never prefer another over you. Her head knew otherwise. Then those same comforting hands gripped the trousers tight on her thighs, making her look at him. “You’re not to fall in love with Commander Keatings.”

“Not until you’ve fully explored your options and found your way back home. I’m sure that’s what you mean.” She strode from the room. “Oh,” she said as a bell rang out a loud ding above their heads.

Will, close on her heels, flinched at the sound. “What was that?”

“It’s Lizzie, I think. She’s arriving early. Mary!”

“I heard,” Mary called back from the kitchen. “Gracious. Never a dull moment ’round here. Another teacup, Sarah.”

Will was still confused by the bell above the door.

“When Victor and I were children, we invented a way of knowing if a carriage crossed into our drive. Copper wiring, buried alongside the road, connected to a pressure plate with a spring under the gravel. You’ll hear a sound from that.” She gestured up to the brass bell above the door. “We did it over the summer when I was eight.”