“Where did they disappear to?” Clara asked, puzzled.
Will fielded that. “They are reading poetry.” Angelika scowled. Her brother was taking increasingly long “rest breaks” in between his searching of the surrounding forests and ravines. She made a mental note to push him harder on it.
Christopher took Angelika’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you for such a lovely cup of tea. Think about what I put to you.” The touch of his lips on her skin stirred the sparks between them. “Should you ever desire to read poetry with me, I am your willing servant. Here, Clara, let me take Edwin while you step in.”
He opened the carriage door and sat the baby on one forearm. Then he turned to let Angelika see how the future might look.
“A dirty military tactic,” Will told him.
“All’s fair,” Christopher replied.
“Good to know,” Will said. “See you the next time you can fit a visit up here into your busy schedule. Happy hunting, Commander.” They watched the carriage depart.
“You heard him, didn’t you? Asking me to kiss him?” She caught Will’s elbow, forcing him to turn.
“I did.” He was bland, and remembering his laughs with his rival sparked her temper. Imagine if Lizzie had been here to witness that quickly fizzling jealousy.
“How I’d like to see some goddamn fire from you.”
Will stopped. “What were you hoping for? A violent fight in a house that is not mine, with furniture smashed, and bones broken? In front of your guest, a very nice woman with a baby?”
She gritted her teeth. “No, of course not.”
“You want to be flattered.” Will’s eyes were sharp on hers. “You want to witness how badly two men want you. You would watch us bloody our fists, pretending to be offended. Typical Angelika, wanting to be adored by a lover beyond sense.”
The flippant words said to Clara hung in the air like mist. Who loves me best, do you think?
“I will begin to think you do not care for me. Show me! Fight for me in your own way!”
“You think I am not?” He took a few steps toward her. “It costs me dearly to deal with every moment of my new life. I take these types of feelings and I place them somewhere deep, where they cannot bubble out. I do this because otherwise they will kill me.”
“I did not realize—”
“I am not speaking figuratively, Angelika. I believe I have a limited amount of life force running through my veins. Everything costs me. I have to control myself more than you will ever know, and having your husband number five walking around this house, looking at you like he’d devour you whole, is draining me dry.”
She thought of his dizzy spell while gardening. “Have you talked to Victor?”
Will sneered. “Any ordinary man would thrash him for what he asks in the name of science, but of course, I am anything but ordinary. Or am I? And now I find myself in a romantic experiment, one I have apparently failed today, because I had the decency of controlling myself and trusting you to not be tempted by perfection incarnate.”
She was frustrated with his evasion. “Is your health growing worse? Answer me.”
“I grow tired of being a test subject. I can no longer endure it.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“And I shall not. I am going to the village, to continue trying to find out about myself. I am only disappointed at how little empathy you have shown for me. I hope you had a pleasant time today.” He turned and walked toward the stables.
Angelika was left behind to sit on the front stairs, alone.
*
Angelika had an apology burning in her chest, but because she could not cough it out, and nobody wanted to hear it, she went into the forest at sunset.
She took with her a basket of fruit, bread, a sausage, cheeses, and a knife. Over her shoulder she carried a waterskin, and her arm ached from the weight of a wool blanket. She went to the clearing where she had first found the huge, lost man.
As she was setting out her gift on a fallen log, she noticed something.
On the ground, where her body had disturbed the golden leaves, was a wilted bunch of flowers.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The duchess is asleep,” Victor said when Angelika entered the laboratory. “So do not clatter about.” He proceeded to clatter about himself, knocking over a dustpan, and Lizzie stirred in the armchair. The siblings stood frozen as she made a sleepy grumble, and then resumed her deep breaths. Her lips moved silently.
“She dreams she is performing to an audience,” Victor said with amusement. “Did you know she wants to build an amphitheater, to put on plays for the villagers? I suppose it would still work out cheaper than your soap habit.”