Frowning, she debated with herself, hating to break a source's confidence, but at the same time understanding the baron's need to know. "I did a study, a thorough investigation of your habits and life. For instance, I spoke with a tailor who said he came to your house only at night. Your retired man of business, Mr. Bell, also said you chose the night to do your estate work and other business. The second-to-last mistress you employed—I believe her name was Miss Trixie Delight—said she saw you only at night. Your last mistress, a Mrs. Joy N. Morning, also confirmed the fact."
At the mention of the word "mistress," Ian lifted an eyebrow. Well-bred young ladies never mentioned the m-word. They politely pretended the demimonde had only existed in biblical days and certainly not here in the mother country.
"I put two and two together and…"
Ian interrupted grimly. "And came up with five." He flicked his wrist, giving the bays more room to roam on the path. He would deal gravely with the men who'd betrayed him. His business was his own, and he liked no one gossiping about him. He dealt in too many different arenas, in both his personal and business life, to have his actions questioned.
Clair laughed. "I guess so. But you can see where I got my numbers."
Ian shrugged. "Not really. Many men prefer to work and play at night, then sleep during the day. That doesn't make them vampires. Especially since such creatures don't exist."
Clair shook her head, rolling her eyes, and her bonnet feathers shook. "So you say. However, my family feel quite differently about the subject."
He really had to change her mind about studying the secrets of the supernatural world, which was shrouded in peril. Blood oaths had been taken, which made the whole situation even more dangerous. However, Ian doubted he could change Clair's mind.
At the most basic level, it was a woman's prerogative to change her mind—almost a passage of youth from pigtails to pearls. Ian understood that. And it was a prerogative which women practiced consistently, in his view. But Clair was not most females. She was a Frankenstein, and Frankensteins seemed to be made up of an entirely different and altogether less predictable mettle. (And if you happened to be one of their creations, then you could be made of any old assortment of odd body parts as well.)
"Vampires are a myth, a legend of ignorant peasants and fodder for writers," he said again.
Clair cocked a brow, studying him. "Baron, this is 1828. We are at the dawn of new scientific discoveries both in the natural and supernatural world. Take Babbage's difference engine, Oersted's theory on magnetic effects, and Brewster's kaleidoscope, for example. You'd be surprised how many of those men believe in the supernatural and the v-word."
"The v-word?"
"Vampire," she clarified, leaning closer. "You, my lord, should really keep an open mind. Expand your horizons."
Glancing at two of Clair's most prominent assets, he tightened his jaw, feeling some expansion in his nether regions. The woman was a threat to everything he stood for, to his sanity—and worse, to his willpower. With a little more encouragement from Clair, his staff would be at full mast, flying high in the wind.
Stealing a glance at her face, he was very relieved that she couldn't read his mind. He wanted to expand his horizons all right. Right down to taking off her lacy drawers and having his wicked way with her all week, each day and each night. A marathon of sexual hijinks both vertical and horizontal. Horizons, indeed. "I will keep that in mind," he commented drolly.
"Science never advances when thoughts are stagnant. We must go forth and search, knowing that science has no boundaries and that possibilities are endless and infinite. Why be limited to known reality when there is obviously so much more?"
Ian grimaced, wondering to himself when the name "Frankenstein" and reality had ever not been mutually exclusive. Setting his bays at a brisk pace, he found his carriage passing more curricles of all sizes and colors as the fashionable hour drew near.
He and Clair nodded at a passing acquaintance or two. But Ian was in no mood for talk at the moment, pondering as he was his dilemma. Miss Frankenstein was not going to cease and desist. It was not in her nature. He had to stop her research and investigations into the otherworldly. He had thought long and hard on the problem the previous night and come up with a solution. He was male and she was female. It would be the oldest trick in the book. He would call it Plan A, The Seduction of Clair Frankenstein. Although he wouldn't actually seduce her to the point of taking her maidenhead, he would keep her distracted enough to forego her investigation. It was a dastardly task, but he was just the right man for the job.
After several minutes of their carriage's brisk pace, Clair touched his arm. "I have another confession to make."
"You are looking for goblins too?" he teased, his manner lightening.
"Don't be silly. Goblins don't exist."
"You don't believe in goblins, but you do in vampires? An interesting conundrum."
"You are being a boor."
"My dear Miss Frankenstein, I am never anything so mundane."
She smiled. "True. In fact, you are actually so imposing that I thought you the leader of the vampire nest."
"Ah. I guess I am flattered that you see me as a leader of monsters," he teased. Then he probed for more information. "Did you say 'nest'?"
"Yes. I don't know if you are aware or not, but many vampires live in nests of sorts. You know, birds of a feather and all that rubbish. Sometimes their familiars live with them." Clair and her friend Jane Van Helsing had discussed Clair's theories, with Jane giving pointers on vampire rules and regulations. And Jane should know, being a member of the Van Helsing clan, notorious vampire hunters as well as manufacturers and marketers of a fine line of quality oaken stakes.
Ian urged the horses forward as his mind raced. Just what did Clair know? Or, rather, what did she think she knew? "Familiars?"
"Yes. Familiars can consist of a warlock or witch mixed in with the vampires. They give the vampires guidance with their magic. And wolves. Well, not actually wolves, but werewolves. Vampires can call werewolves. Of course, if they want them in wolf form, they must wait until the full moon, so the shapeshifter can shift to animal form."
Ian cursed silently. He had to forge ahead carefully.
Clair Frankenstein was digging up a whole can of worms that would wriggle around and bite her most shapely little arse if she didn't back off. "Werewolves? I thought the vampires would be able to call bats."
"Those too," she answered, uncertain if he was teasing her. "Vampires are powerful and can call more than one animal to them."
Ian winced. "So you intend to go around chasing these monsters down and then writing about them so you can publish your discoveries?" His expression was grim.
"Yes. It is my most heartfelt wish. I wish to win the prestigious Scientific Discovery of the Decade Award."
"Dead women don't win awards."
"I am being careful. Didn't I have my garlic and stakes with me last night at your home?"
Ian glanced toward the heavens, thinking that it would take a small miracle to keep Clair Frankenstein from being eaten alive by her research projects. "How does your aunt Mary feel about this?"
Clair shrugged. "She is resigned to it. However, my great-aunt Abby, who is Uncle Victor's aunt, is very excited. She has always believed in otherworldly creatures."
Ian pulled the carriage over on the side of the path. "Miss Frankenstein, if there are such creatures about, don't you think that they might not want to be brought to the public eye?"
"I imagine they won't be thrilled."
Ian shook his head slightly. He responded, his voice thick with irony, "No, I don't imagine they would be. Do you think they might dislike it enough to get violent?"