The Vampire Voss (Regency Draculia #1)(42)
Author: Colleen Gleason

And what was Voss’s connection to them?

Rubey moved with the same efficiency and spare movements as Ella had, insisting that Angelica don a clean chemise, and even loaning her one of her corsets. Although she didn’t attempt to do anything with the mass of wild hair except pin it up loosely again, Rubey tugged and laced and buttoned Angelica into a pretty pink frock in short order.

Just as Angelica was rolling silk stockings up over her knees and aligning borrowed slippers (which were a bit too large) for her feet, Voss strode into the chamber. Uninvited, and clearly comfortable being there.

“We must go,” he said to Angelica. She sensed wildness about him, some restrained energy beneath his movements. “Straight away. We’ve a carriage waiting.”

“What of Edouard?” Rubey asked, her lips pinched together.

“Belial paid him well—and he’d already been made Dracule, Luce take it. How the fool didn’t think we’d figure him out, I can’t imagine. I threw him outside and he’s burning in the sun now. Won’t see him again.”

Rubey made a sound of distaste and turned away. “Blast it, Voss. Every bloody time you come here, you leave a mess.”

“That’s why you charge me so much,” he replied. But this time, there was no humor in his voice, no lilting charm. “And why I always settle up.”

“I cannot charge you enough to make up for this,” Rubey said. Her eyes were red now. “Ella was… She was…a friend, as well.”

“My sincerest apology,” Voss said. He sounded as if he meant it, and he reached to touch Rubey’s arm as if to emphasize. “Truly. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“Never will be soon enough,” said their hostess. And she sounded, at that moment, as if she meant it, too.

Voss turned sharply. “Miss Woodmore, we must make haste. You’re no longer safe here.” Formality and command replaced the empathy in his voice.

Angelica allowed him to lead her from the bedchamber and down the corridor. His strides were long and fast, and she felt awkward trying to keep up with him. But her fingers, glove less, were clasped in his big bare hand, and he steadied her as they hurried along.

The carriage had been pulled up very near the servants’ entrance; to climb in was no more than a step out the door and up into the vehicle. The conveyance was parked in a narrow mews between two tall buildings, which made the space dark and shadowy despite the fact that it was several hours before twilight.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Angelica entered a carriage to ride with Voss. Alone.

“Where are we going this time?” she asked as he stood at the doorway, his hand on the edge of the door, his feet on the stoop of the house.

“Somewhere safer,” he said. His eyes seemed to glitter with heat as he looked up at her. “Somewhere where they cannot find us.”

There was something about the way he said those words that gave her pause. An odd combination of desire and unease prickled inside her.

“Why do you not take me back to Blackmont Hall? Surely it’s safe there,” Angelica said, remembering the stone wall that surrounded the small plot of land on which the mansion sat. Maia must be sick with worry, too. And what if there’d been a message from Chas?

“I’ll not take you back to Corvindale,” Voss said flatly. “Not quite yet.”

And then, to her shock and surprise, he slammed the door closed, leaving himself on the outside. The sound of the latch catching solidified the realization that he didn’t intend to join her.

Angelica whipped the heavy curtains away from the windows just in time to see Voss—she thought it was him, at any rate—heavily cloaked and with a low-riding hat settle on the small stoop at the back of the barouche where the footman would normally stand.

He was choosing to ride outside of the vehicle instead of inside with her? What did that mean?

The sudden jolt of the vehicle starting off nudged her against the padded wall. Voss hadn’t moved, but she could see his gloved hands holding on to the handles next to the window. He looked like a black wraith, his cloak flapping as they went on and his face in shadow, his profile turned away and down.

Angelica, exhausted, still more than a bit horrified at the day’s events, and now filled with annoyance, settled into her seat and folded her arms over her middle.

“This is a fine kettle,” she said to herself. Locked in a carriage, being taken who knew where.

But she wasn’t frightened. At least, not of Voss.

There were much worse threats to her person than the tawny-haired man with the hot gaze.

Perhaps he meant to protect her reputation by not riding about London during the day alone in the carriage with her. Not that anyone could see inside the heavily curtained windows.

Or perhaps he thought it would be safer if he rode outside, where he could watch for other attacks.

Or perhaps he didn’t wish to be near her any longer. Now that he’d been with Rubey for the afternoon.

For it had become starkly clear to her that he and Rubey had been otherwise engaged when the invaders had come into the house, and had somehow avoided a direct attack. The thought of what they were doing made her feel suddenly quite ill again.

Miserable, she settled into the corner of the carriage. The plush velvet walls and cushions embraced her, and she rested her head back and tried not to think about what a disaster her life had become.

She had to admit it, then. That she’d come to truly fancy Voss in the few days that she’d known him, in the fleeting moments of conversation and in those moments when their eyes had met… Well, she must admit it. She had believed, hoped, that he’d fancied her, too.

Foolish purring kitten, as Granny Grapes would say. And she’d jab her finger at Angelica just as Maia was wont to do. Yer seeing what yer want to see.

Voss—she really ought to think of him as Dewhurst again— was merely being gentlemanly in taking care of her and taking her off to safety. Protecting her, or any woman in danger, as any man would do.

Yes, they’d had some compelling conversation. And indeed, when they’d talked just this morning whilst she was still abed, Angelica had felt as if the silken thread of a connection had been strung between them when she looked into his eyes and saw something deeper there.

And, yes, there’d been that kiss…

Angelica’s toes curled up inside the too-large slippers as she remembered that kiss, that melting, mind-shattering kiss. And then she forced her thoughts away from it.