Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(52)

Christopher replied, “All I ask is that I am considered fairly. I want to get to know you, Angelika. I feel we have an interesting attraction. Do you deny it?”

The fire crackled more.

“You are allowed to confess it,” Will told her. “I will not be angry.”

Angelika took a deep breath, hating herself for this betrayal. But the truth was required.

“I do not deny it. Christopher, you are dreadfully handsome. I like your liquor cabinet selections, and you are a laugh. Since the second I met you, I have ached to scrunch up a handful of your perfect shirt in my fist.”

Christopher’s eyes gleamed in the firelight, and a new kind of energy passed between them. “I would not object. And how I wish we had met at the ball.”

Angelika decided to be brazen once more. “But I will be clear on one point: I prefer Will. He is the one who has my heart.”

“You prefer a nameless man,” Christopher pointed out. “I am willing to wait until all is revealed to see what your final choice is. I do believe I am still a good option.”

“That’s all we’ve ever wanted for Jelly. For her to have a choice.” Lizzie was writing in her official secret society notebook. “I undertake to be a neutral umpire in the courting of the fairy queen.”

“I would put everything I have into this,” Christopher threatened Will. “None of you know this, but I am a renowned hunter. There is nothing and no one I cannot find: foxes, stags, missing horses, or absconding officers. I have found everything I’ve ever hunted for. The very first thing I will need is a likeness of Will.”

“I think I could help with that,” Clara blurted out, surprising the group. “I’m—I’m rather good at . . .” They all leaned forward. She finished weakly: “Drawing.”

“Excellent,” Lizzie praised her. “Come back and we shall have Will sit for a portrait. Do you use charcoal, lead, or oils? We shall get what you prefer.”

“I haven’t used anything in a long time,” Clara replied, worry returning to her features. “Perhaps I am not as good as I was. Someone else would be better.”

“Nonsense,” Angelika encouraged her firmly. “You can do it. Could you possibly have a better sitting model than Will?” She saw Clara’s eyes flick back to Christopher. It was clear which man she’d prefer to commit to posterity. “Bring Edwin, of course. We will send the coach for you.”

“I think we have a deal,” Will said, but he was addressing Angelika when he asked, “Are you also in agreement?”

All eyes turned to her. She hesitated. Then, she firmed her resolve. Did they all think her so easily swayed? She would love Will no matter his past. Was he a thief or a trickster who would take advantage of them? If he were, she could reform him. If Will turned out to be a beggar, she would have him. If he were a gutter drunk, a shyster, a wealthy snob, a lowly pauper, she would have him.

“Well?” Will prompted.

The idea of a baby was the only thing to give her pause.

“It is the way for this uncertainty to end, my love,” Will said to her softly, as if they were alone. “I am suffering. I cannot rest. I have nothing to offer you. This is the only way to guarantee that you know what your options are, and to end my torment.”

Angelika nodded. “I agree. And I demand absolute confidentiality from this entire group. Christopher, do you promise to guard Will’s secret with your life?” He nodded gravely. “And, Will, do you promise me that you will tell me the moment your memory returns?” He also nodded. “Then I agree.”

Lizzie and Clara applauded.

“My deal with you has a caveat,” Christopher cut in, addressing Will. “You are out of this house. You can have full board and lodging at the barracks. It is more proper.” His meaning was clear as he glanced at Angelika.

Will offered no resistance and pointed in the direction of the orchard. “I am aware that the house is at capacity. I have already been clearing out one of the servants’ cottages up on the hill. I think it will suit me very well.”

“It’s all settled,” Victor said, slapping his hands together so loudly they all jumped. “What a host I am. This is a dinner for the record books.”

“How so?” Lizzie inquired with a laugh as he pulled her onto his lap.

“Jelly has one and a half suitors. Will shall soon reintroduce himself to us. Chris has the look of a bloodhound. Clara is a secret artist. You have founded a secret society. I am a genius. When I find my proof . . .” Victor lost a little of his swagger and looked out at the dark fields surrounding them. He then seemed to shake himself. “Let’s set off the crackers to celebrate.” He lifted his voice and roared, “I say, Mary—”

“Already bringing ’em,” Mary said from the doorway, holding a wooden crate. “But these will wake the baby.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Angelika said with patent relish, and everyone laughed, except Will.

He hung back as they all tipped their faces to the sky, dazzled by the starbursts. Angelika turned around to exclaim to Will, but he was gone, replaced by the silhouette of a sow, skulking along the wall.

“You’ll miss it.” Christopher put his hand on her lower back, facing her forward. His fingertips pressed so warm and firm, she felt a pop-fizz of utter splendor right down to her bones.