Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(67)

“I do not mean to intrude. But if I may offer a suggestion? One tall oriental vase in that corner, filled with peacock feathers, would make this space perfect.”

“How could you intrude into a place that is yours?” He positioned the flowers on his mantel, looking as content as she’d ever seen him. “It’s perfect now. A beaker full of larkspurs was all it wanted.”

“This cottage isn’t mine, and I will never enter without your invitation. This place is yours, for a lifetime if you want it. I have to tell people exactly what they are entitled to.”

He noticed her grimace. “What happened?”

“I accidentally dismissed Mary, instead of telling her she is a valued family member who is to live out her days with us. Typical Angelika.”

“I’m sure you will come up with an ingenious solution. That is also typical Angelika.” His bed had a compression mark on the blanket, and his cheek was creased.

“Were you lying down?”

“I am tired in the afternoons.”

“The sleepwalking?” He nodded. “I was going to see if you wanted to come for a walk with me. I have a project to assess, up on the hill. We are thinking of marrying the duchess and the bear at home. But I can go alone if you’re tired.”

“Walking alone in the forest doesn’t go very well for you.” He sat down to pull on his boots, and Angelika roamed around, admiring his belongings. The leather-bound book Institutiones Rei Herbariae was still in pride of place beside his bed. She flipped it open to reread her inscription. To my love: One day I will write your true name here. With all that I am, I am always, your Angelika.

“I really can’t wait,” she said to him. He didn’t understand. “To write your name in this book.”

“It would be sacrilege to write my name in such a special book. So, where are we going?”

It was another love declaration gone unnoticed by a man she blindly adored; there was a trail of similar gestures throughout the years. This was the first that was permanently inked. Imagine his gentle pity when he noticed it. Perhaps he would have to hide the book from his wife, or tear out the page.

Angelika tried to sound cheerful, even as her cheeks warmed and her throat tightened.

“We always went to church in town, but the estate originally had a chapel. I haven’t seen it since I was a child.”

Will looked up, startled. “I know where it is.”

“Does it still have four walls and a roof?”

“I’ve never seen it in daylight, but I’ve woken up there three times now. We should make sure to get back before nightfall.”

Angelika nodded. “Yes, I have something I need to do before it gets dark.” She’d asked Mrs. Rumsfield to make some small vegetable pies; it would be nice for Victor’s man to find them still warm. Like Will, he would not touch meat, and the sausages she had left in his baskets were tossed into the leaves. “Did you make any progress on your mystery when you rode to the village?”

“Christopher’s information on the travelers’ inn was useful. I went there and met with the landlady but found it too difficult to explain myself. The story of my twin brother is increasingly unbelievable.” He put his hands on his knees and stood with a groan. “I have walked around Salisbury long enough to believe I am a stranger to the village. But sometimes I see a maid look at me a second time, and I begin to doubt again.”

Angelika’s eyebrows lowered. “That is because you are terribly handsome. I will come with you next time.”

“Jealous,” he chided, but his eyes glowed with pleasure for several minutes as they began their walk. “I think I might have to expand my search for myself to London. I don’t suppose you feel like accompanying me on my trip?”

“I would follow you anywhere,” Angelika replied, and she did, into the darkening forest.

The path up the hill was roughly laid with crumbling stone stairs in some places, and in others it was nothing more than deer tracks traced into the fallen leaves. They fell into a companionable silence as they walked, and it was a good thing, too, because Angelika soon found her fitness was not up to this incline. “I’m hoping—it’s in a reasonable state—Victor and Lizzie—” She bent over, hands on knees, and huffed unintelligibly about marriage.

“I know how Victor feels about churches. I suppose he wants to hide away up here to wed her.” Will was unaffected by the terrain and stood patiently until she regained her breath. “Take my arm.”

She gladly obliged, pressing her cheek to his biceps as they pressed onward and upward. A noise caught her attention; she looked back and saw a solitary piglet trailing them. “Is that Belladonna’s runt?”

Will was sheepish. “It’s terribly friendly.”

“This is exactly how it starts. A basket. A water dish. An apple core, here and there.” To distract herself from the incline, Angelika said, “Tell me what trees and plants I have here on this hill.”

He began to name them. “These are blackthorn shrubs, but don’t even try to taste those berries. They’re only good for gin, but I have made a syrup to treat rheumatism. I’m not sure how I knew to do it, but I did.” He patted her hand. “When Mary returns home, I think it will help her immensely.”

“I’m sure it will make her feel better.” The rabbit holes and slippery leaves were easy to traverse when she had both of her arms wrapped around his. “Maybe you are a doctor, my love. They have to know a lot about herbs. You certainly have the calm disposition, and you cared for me perfectly when I hit my head.”