The Vampire Voss (Regency Draculia #1)(22)
Author: Colleen Gleason

The shadows embraced him, and the black mask he wore hid all but the lower third of his face. A wide-brimmed hat covered his head and a heavy dark cloak offered more concealment. But he was watching her.

Her heartbeat quickened, and as the dance ended and Harrington escorted her off the floor, Angelica glanced back quickly. He was still looking after her, and as their eyes connected across the space, he gave a bow of acknowledgment. Then, a person moved in the space between them, obstructing the view, and then another, and when Angelica looked again, he was gone.

It took her a moment for her heart to settle to normal, and her breathing to steady. Was it possible Voss was here? That he hadn’t left for Romania? It had to be him, watching her so boldly.

Her belly tingled at the thought and she had to restrain herself from looking back again as her dance partner—whose name she had nearly forgotten—drew her through the clusters of people: a highwayman, a king, an archer, a Hamlet and Ophelia, a Diana and a butterfly.

“Miss Woodmore?”

She looked up at Harrington and realized he’d been trying to gain her attention for some time. “I’m terribly parched,” she said with a smile, utilizing the excuse Maia had taught her to free oneself—either permanently or temporarily—from a companion.

“May I fetch you something to drink?” he asked, leaning close. He smelled pleasant—a woodsy scent. “So you don’t have to wait in line?”

“Yes, indeed. I understand there is some effervescent drink with lemon in it. It sounds lovely.” Because the mask obscured her face, she couldn’t bat her eyelashes, but she did look up at him with a smile.

As Harrington rushed off, Angelica realized that, ironically, she’d used a similar excuse to extricate herself from a different dance partner so that she could speak with Harrington himself some time ago. Maia, who’d been very clever at managing her many beaux before settling on Alexander Bradington, would be proud of her sister’s expertise.

“Do you care to dance?” came a low voice behind her.

Angelica barely managed to keep from clapping a startled hand to her bosom and instead merely straightened. How had he gotten over here so quickly? “Of course,” she replied, turning. Her heart was pounding, and beneath her gloves, her palms had gone damp.

He was there, perhaps not as tall as she’d remembered, but darker and more forbidding thanks to his unrelieved black garb and shadowing hat. The full cloak covered him from shoulder nearly to the floor, and the mask obscured him from temple to upper lip. That left only a bit of jaw and cheek uncovered, but they too were shadowed by a high, white Elizabethan neck ruff.

“Or would you prefer to take in some air beneath the stars?” he added.

His face and eyes were in shadow, and he spoke so low and so near to her ear that, although she could understand what he was saying, and his breath was warm against her, she wasn’t able to recognize his voice.

Much as she would like to walk beneath the stars with Lord Dewhurst…Voss…until she was certain it was he, Angelica wouldn’t do anything so scandalous.

Although…she was in a mask. No one would recognize her except her sister. “Perhaps after the dance some fresh air would be in order,” she said prudently. That would give her time.

“Come then,” he said and drew her toward the dance floor.

The music had already begun: another waltz. Only at a masquerade ball would there be so many of the scandalous dances in a row, and Angelica felt a prickle of naughtiness as she allowed him to twirl her into position.

“Have you received any word from your brother?” he murmured.

It was Voss, then. Angelica’s heart lightened and she smiled up at him, allowing her pleasure to show in her eyes. “I have not,” she replied. “But I am surprised to see you here. I thought you would be well on your way to Romania.”

There was a pause as he executed some unfamiliar step, half turning her away so that they could pass by another couple. “Ah, yes. I’ve been delayed.”

“Corvindale won’t be pleased, I’m certain,” Angelica said.

“You’ve spoken to him?”

“Of course. He avoids us all as much as possible, but of course it is difficult to completely ignore the man whose house we are living in.” She was aware of the solidness of his arms, the warmth of his body near hers.

Voss looked down at her, his eyes seeming to almost glow behind the shadow of his mask. “Living in Corvindale’s home must be most unpleasant.”

She felt a little shiver run over the back of her shoulders. He sounded angry, almost malicious. “I know there is little love lost between the two of you, but he hasn’t been unkind to us,” she said. There was no reason that she should allow his dislike of the earl to color her own opinion.

Again, a pause as they stepped through several more paces, and Angelica realized that Voss had maneuvered them toward the edge of the dance floor. Beyond the clusters of people and the dangling vines from the Babylonian plants, the doors to the gardens were open. Two sets of tall double doors had been flung wide, allowing easy access to the torchlit pathways several steps below the balcony.

As they drew nearer, a vibrant breeze brushed over her warm skin and Angelica was grateful when Voss eased her off the dance floor. She had begun to feel warm from the dancing and the fresh night air would be a glad change. Especially since she would be with Voss.

Would he try to kiss her? Her belly flipped at the thought and her cheeks warmed. She suspected a kiss from Voss would be very different from the one Harrington had brushed over her lips at the Farbers’ fete.

Sliding a firm arm around her waist, he kept her close as they walked through the doors. Angelica had a moment’s bit of nervousness and looked behind her to make certain Maia wasn’t watching their almost intimate pose—the side of her body was caught up next to his taller one and his arm was tight. He wasn’t about to let her go.

“This way,” he murmured, leading her past the rushing fountain in the center of the massive balcony and toward the darkest set of stairs. The burned-out torch hung uselessly at the top, and for the first time, Angelica felt a niggle of unease.

“Perhaps we should stay here. It’s a lovely view.” She paused at the top of the steps, gesturing up at the stars.

The garden lay before them and the sounds of the party loud at their backs. Other couples were out, walking on the balcony. And she could hear the laughter of people below, in the gardens, muted by the rushing fountain. Some of her nervousness lessened.