Claire was shocked at her candor. “I do apologize. It is just that I thought your come-out would be next year. I, um… was not expecting such competition for the season.”
Victoria chuckled. “She was betting on landing the most titled gentleman this year. My friends and I made a wager on it as well. Your presence will tilt the odds.”
Angelica was stunned that these young women sounded just as obsessed with money and titles as her mother was. She didn’t bother to point out that she did not want to “land” anybody. “What about love?” she blurted.
The ladies giggled and Claire replied, “I would love to be a duchess!” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “The Duke of Burnrath is here tonight. Ooh, just imagine if I could get his attention!” She rose up on her toes and craned her neck, searching the crowd.
Victoria frowned at her sister. “Do not consider it for a moment, Claire. The dukes of Burnrath have long since held a tradition of wedding foreign brides. Plenty of naive girls and widows have tried to lure him into defying that custom, with only a broken heart and ruined reputation to show for the effort.” She smiled. “Besides, I hear that he is a vampire.”
Angelica’s breath halted. She’d devoured John Polidori’s tale with nearly as much gusto as Mary Shelley’s. Could such creatures be real? If so, that would mean her neighbor was one!
Claire tossed her curls and asked, “What is a vampire?”
“I did not know Mother sheltered you that much. A vampire,” Victoria explained, “is a creature that looks like a man and steals into ladies’ bedrooms and drinks their blood. The stories are all the rage.” Her shining blue gaze belied the seriousness of the subject.
Claire shuddered. “How very ghastly.” Then her eyes lit up and she rose up on her toes once more. “There he is, with the Duchess of Wentworth!”
Angelica scanned the crowd with bated breath. Was the Duke of Burnrath really a vampire? Her imagination spun. It was too delicious for words. She spotted him and realized this was the first time she’d seen His Grace in the light. He towered above nearly every man in the throng. His hair, dark as a raven’s wing, was unfashionably long, caressing the broad shoulders of his black evening jacket. She shivered. His silver eyes met hers, and Angelica felt as if her stays had been tightened. The duke raised a sardonic brow at her and inclined his head slightly before taking the Duchess of Wentworth in his arms for a waltz.
Her cheeks heated and shame flooded her at being caught staring. She shifted on weak knees and opened her fan, hating the strange discomfort rising up at the sight of him dancing with the Duchess of Wentworth. She scanned the crowd for a distraction.
“He cannot be a vampire, Lady Wheaton,” Angelica said, frowning as she eyed the mirrors that adorned the ballroom, the glow of the candlelit chandeliers reflected within. “Look at the mirrors. He casts a reflection.”
Victoria followed her gaze. “So he does. No matter, I was only teasing. With the popularity of the tale of Lord Ruthven, many have been speculating about the duke’s nocturnal leanings.”
“What does a reflection have to do with vampires?” Claire asked, plying her fan and fluttering her eyelashes as she tried to get the duke’s attention.
At any other opportunity, Angelica would have eagerly explained every detail of the vampire myth to a new audience, but her reaction to the duke had unsettled her. She struggled to find a meaning for the disturbing feelings he evoked. Taking another glass of champagne from a passing footman, she sipped the bubbly vintage in silence as Victoria prattled to her sister about garlic and crosses.
“What is his name, I wonder?” she murmured more to herself than for any edification.
“Ian Ashton,” Claire answered. “Oh, if only he did not have that stupid family tradition! He would be the catch of the century. Imagine being the Duchess of Burnrath!”
Ian. The name sent a strange thrill through Angelica’s body.
A young gentleman approached her with obnoxious mincing steps. “Would you care to dance, Miss Winthrop?”
She tore her gaze from the duke and saw that a line had formed behind the lace-bedecked Corinthian. Her original problem returned to her. She must avoid marriage to one of these mindless dandies. To do so, she needed to focus on how to best destroy her reputation, not staring at a handsome duke, one who wasn’t even a vampire.
“Not right now, thank you,” she said to the gentleman. She raised her voice so the other contenders could hear. “I fear I am getting a headache.” Her eyes scanned the area, looking for an opportunity to escape.