Page 21 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
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They rode their horses over the crest of a hill. Angelika pointed with her crop.
“I will give you a tour of Salisbury. It is a fine village, with much history. Victor says we are ideally situated, only a day’s carriage ride from London, and we can easily ride to the plains to see the big stone druid temple. We can take a basket of food and a bottle of wine. It is a marvelous day out.”
“I am sure it is all very nice,” Will said. “You do not have to be nervous that I won’t like your home. I already do.”
They halted their mounts and looked at the village lanterns in the distance. The sky was peach and lavender. Turtledoves cooed in a hedgerow, and honeysuckle perfumed everything. The horses sidestepped, causing their riders’ legs to brush. It was a moment steeped in romance, but only in Angelika’simagination. She looked sideways at what was indeed a fabulous riding seat. That horse was a lucky creature.
Will broached a new topic with care. “Victor used my hands for his monster, but you said my body was not salvageable due to an accident. Can you explain this to me, so I can stop wondering about it?”
“He is not a monster. I wanted to test my skills in transplanting body parts, and as a scientist, Victor needed to prove his superiority to Jürgen Schneider.” Science was something Will rarely argued with.
“The way Victor rants about that man is unhealthy. I think he would gain peace if he could just forgive his past offenses. Whatever they are.”
She shrugged. “It fuels Victor. It goes beyond science. Schneider was once a potential suitor for Lizzie. Victor is a beast when he is jealous.”
“How did they meet? Please do not tell me that Lizzie is also...” He gestured vaguely to his own neck area, where his cravat hid his stitches.
“Goodness, no. Victor has been betrothed to Lizzie since they were children, but when Papa died, he forgot about it. He got drunk and wrote a manifesto of sorts, denouncing the institution of marriage. ‘Opting Out of England’s Elite Breeding Program’ is what he titled it.”
“I saw it on your dressing table. I read it. I’ve felt terrible for prying.” Will did look guilty.
“Hardly prying, when it has traveled the world ten times by now. Victor has always wanted to be famous; now he most assuredly is. Lizzie’s father was livid. Threatened to expel him from his secret society. We traveled to Russia to handle the situation. His grand plan was to be so boring that she rejected him.”
“I don’t think he could manage being boring for long.”
“No, indeed.” Angelika smiled. “Lizzie is a playwright, and funny, and beautiful. Anyhow, we went to let her reject him, but found ourselves in a caravan following her acting troupe through some very remote parts of Russia. Her first play isThe Duchess and the Bear. She forced Vic to wear the bear costume, night after night, while villagers threw sticks at him on the stage. My job selling tickets was much better.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh. “That bear costume in the corner of my room is his?”
“She’s the duchess. He’s the bear. Some things are just meant to be, even if falling in love with her was a catastrophe for him, on an intellectual level. To marry her, he has to declare himself a hypocrite. He’ll be a laughingstock. The anti-marriage man takes a wife. But he doesn’t care anymore.”
“I suppose you are hoping for something that dramatic yourself?” Will now looked at her like he was afraid. “I feel I am quite a letdown.”
“Please remember how we met and reexamine your statement.”
“I feel quite sure that I am a dull person in comparison. I cannot see myself traveling with a Russian troupe.”
“All my interesting stories feature my brother. I’ve merely invited myself along to anything I could. That is what it is like for a woman. I can’t wait to get out from under his wing. But anyhow! We are having our own adventure tonight.”
Will moved his mount closer to hers. “Your morgue outfit is quite special. That color suits you well.”
It was a turquoise riding habit, with swirling skirts. Heinously expensive, of course. Angelika preened her sleeve. “I always dress like I have a date with destiny.”
This was a reference to her husband hunt, and it did notplease him. “Do the villagers say anything about how you ride astride?”
“If sidesaddle versus astride is what occupies their pathetic conversations, then I feel sorry for them. Be glad it was me who experimented upon you, my love. The villagers would have used your body for target practice.”
Will huffed in amusement. “Sometimes it feels like you do the same.”
“Alas, I do not use you for any kind of practice. Come now, before the place gets overrun.” She grinned at his expression and pressed her heels against Percy’s sides, urging him on. “What did you name your horse, by the way?”
His smile faded. “I cannot think of a thing to name him.”
They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence. She had a pistol in her saddlebag but suspected that Will would always make her feel safe. Victor usually rode on ahead, causing her horse to pull and fret, but Will maintained his mount level with her own and checked to make sure she had seen low-hanging branches or poor footing.
And the more trulyherselfshe was, the more he looked at her. She had no need to pretend feminine incompetence, or to hold back a curse when Percy stumbled. A log in her way? She jumped it. He liked the wildness in her. She saw proof in the curl of his lip, and the glances he gave.
