The women's remarks continued, and Jane eavesdropped shamelessly. "I hear the earl can't abide anything less than perfection in his life. Everything he owns is of the first scratch."
Just like Old Scratch, the Devil himself, Jane mused, noting the earl's costume. The vampire also had a devilish glint in his eye, adding to his diabolical charm. Jane found herself amused. The earl was a vampire pretending to be a man pretending to be Lucifer himself, the King of Demons.
Yes, the Earl of Wolverton dressed all in black, just as the Devil did, which meant the two probably had more than a passing acquaintance. The earl's black jacket fit him perfectly, outlining his massive shoulders and broad chest. His long legs were encased in tight black breeches, and his mask hid only his eyes and the top of his aristocratic nose, leaving the rest of his perfect countenance for inspection. His burnished chestnut hair showed gold and copper under the light of the Venetian chandeliers and glinted along with the two golden horns set atop his head. He was truly temptation on the hoof, since he affected her Van Helsing sense and sensibilities.
She sighed. It was a shame that he was a vampire. It was even more of a shame that she was a plain Jane, vampire-hunting Van Helsing and could never attract a man of Neil Asher's ilk. The earl was a connoisseur of all things bright and beauteous, all things lush and lucre-ful. Asher couldn't abide anything less than perfection in his well ordered, beautiful and hedonistic life. That shouldn't surprise her. That was a long-standing character trait of the forces of Darkness. And of men in general.
Once again, the two young ladies behind Jane made comments. "I hear Asher delights in all things great, though rarely small. Especially in the bosom area."
The other woman gasped in shock. "Charlotte, how could you know that?"
The first young lady lowered her voice, making it hard for Jane to catch her words. "My brother told me. It's whispered among the demimonde of London."
Clair Huntsley finally spotted her husband, waved, then turned back to Jane, noting her friend was once again eavesdropping—a deplorable habit that Clair herself had proudly taught her. Observing Jane's distraction, Clair turned in the direction her friend was staring, watching the Earl of Wolverton's grand entrance. Jane was apparently captivated by the handsome vampire, which was very good for Plan Z. Clair wondered if Jane had guessed that the earl was one of the Nosferatu. She didn't think so. And Clair hadn't yet confided in her about it. She would leave that little detail for later.
Studying Asher's face, Clair frowned. "Asher is paler than usual." She remarked. She truly valued the man's friendship, in spite of his high-handed arrogance. She owed him a debt that would take a great deal to repay.
"Perhaps he's overextended himself," Jane commented thoughtfully. Being Dracul would put a drain on anyone's energy—all that debauching, drinking and despoiling virgins, she thought to herself.
"Perhaps," Clair conceded worriedly. She harbored a deep guilt over Asher's unrequited feelings for her. She knew she had hurt him deeply by not returning his affection. But how could she when Ian was the love of her life?
It didn't matter that reanimated dead flesh fascinated all Frankensteins. It didn't matter that Asher was an alluring, intelligent vampire, a shade made up of the cold touch of the grave, the call of night breezes and twilight hours. She hadn't fallen for him. Her love was Ian alone.
Asher was mystery, mist and predator. He was filled with ghosts of the wind, memories of royal courtiers with elaborate lace cuffs, finely dressed ladies in wigs and loose court morals. He was of a people long gone, people who had worn shiny armor, held swords lifted high as their battle cries filled the air. Honor and the bonds of blood had bound him then as they bound him now. Asher was centuries old and aging, though he looked forever young. But while for many years the urbane Asher was sharp of both tongue and teeth, lately his razor wit had borne a venomous twist that Clair disliked.
"I don't know," she hedged. "Asher's eyes seem rather more haunted than usual." They were stark, sad eyes, all laughter appearing to have fled into some murky darkness in the depths of his soul. That was why, in her typical Frankenstein fashion, Clair had decided to do something special for Asher to cheer him up. Something most wondrous, like finding him a wife: someone with a nice figure and wonderful silver-green eyes. Someone who was both compassionate and feisty when roused—a trait Asher would definitely need in a mate, especially with his own toplofty view of himself. And who could be feistier than a vampire hunter? Never mind that Asher wouldn't want a wife, and most assuredly not a vampire-slaying Van Helsing.
"Jane dear, Ian and I are having a house party at Ian's estate in Wales next weekend. I would so like you to come."
"I… I," Jane hedged. Her attention was on the earl. How could she melt such a handsome visage with holy water? But regret was a four-letter word—well, six—with which spinsters were quite familiar. She could certainly use a cup of cocoa right now to settle her nerves.
"I have invited a party of around twenty ladies and gentlemen, with guests such as Lord Graystroke and the Earl of Wolverton," Clair continued slyly, pleased to see her friend's face pinken.
Yes, she thought smugly, her matchmaking plan would be a smashing success. The old Frankenstein genes, which her aunt Mary Frankenstein swore included matchmaking, were pulsing within her. Just wait until she told Ian her plan! Clair chewed her lip. On second thought, she would keep mum about the new scheme. Ian still hadn't recuperated completely from the last one.
"A house party? How, um… nice." Jane nodded halfhearted, having a strong and strange urge to stick her head in the sand like her favorite ostrich, Orville, did when he got upset. She felt guilt crushing down on her chest. How could she accept Clair's honorable invitation, knowing that the earl's life was limited if her father's scheme unfolded as planned? Knowing that she intended to melt Clair's friend's face off tonight?
Rubbing her head, which had started to ache, Jane felt a dreadful coldness seep inside her. She was betraying Clair's friendship by harming this devastating earl. Yet, if he were Dracul, how could she not? But if he was the unprincipled Prince of Darkness, then why had he' saved Clair and her husband's lives, at risk to his own? Where were the debauchery and depravity in that demonic deed?
"Jane you haven't answered my question," Clair said as she noted her friend's tense stance and lack of attention.
"House… party… nice," Jane replied, trying to keep her face sphinxlike. Almost against her will, her eyes were drawn back to the dashing earl, who was flirting with a bevy of beauties.
Clair laughed. "Asher knows his worth, and he makes sure everyone else does too. Come, let me introduce you."
Jane shook her head. "I need to refresh myself in the ladies' room. Later, perhaps."
Clair studied Jane closely, noticing her extreme agitation. "Is this more than nerves at meeting such a devilishly handsome man?" she asked.
"Of course not!" Jane said, looking anywhere else.
Her friend was hiding something, Clair decided. "Of course not," she agreed, giving a warm smile. Jane had a secret, and she would find out what it was. After all, she was a Frankenstein and a Huntsley now—a practically invincible combination. Oh, to what heights she could aspire, and Ian would pick her up if she ever slipped and fell. "All right then, Jane. I will introduce you later. May I remind you that Asher's not an ogre?"
"No, just a devil," Jane replied. She well knew that Asher was no ogre. He was worse. He was the fang-faced vilest of villainous vampires, Count Dracul, who wasn't even a count at all, but an earl. The liar.
Clair arched a brow.
Jane smiled. "The Devil made me say it," she joked.
Clair laughed. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I see that my husband is motioning me over to him. But I will see you later on and make your introduction to Asher. I just know that when you get to know the Earl of Wolverton, you will find him… most intriguing. He can be a bit overweening at times, but after all, he is Asher. Besides, my dear friend, he is someone you will never forget. I'll stake my life on it."