She sniffed daintily as Ian studied her from the top of her burnished head to her rather small feet. She was dressed in a gown of apricot silk, with lace around the bodice and puffed sleeves. Her glorious golden hair was caught up in an elaborate twist with a few curls dangling about her cheeks. A ribbon of the same color as her dress was entwined in her coiffure.
In broad daylight and with that awful cape gone, Ian could view her figure to his heart's content. And what a figure it was, from her tiny waist to her plump breasts. Since Ian was definitely a breast man, he was doubly impressed. He had visions of burying his head between those full globes and sucking sweetly.
He lifted his eyes, hoping his perusal had gone unnoticed. It had. Miss Frankenstein once again had her head in the inexplicable and cloudy academic realms she frequented. He watched her chewing on her bottom lip.
In actuality, while Ian was studying Clair, Clair was readjusting her scientific schedule. This would put her back a day or two. It frustrated her to no end. She truly hated wasting time, but it was not the baron's fault, she finally conceded. She knew she had been taught better manners than to blame others for her mistakes. Her aunt Mary would have a fit.
"Forgive me, my lord. You are correct. It was my research and my mistake. Please accept my apology."
She was still upset that all her work had led her to the wrong man. But what a man, she admitted silently. He really was ruggedly handsome, the morning light shining on his raven locks, bringing out the bluish highlights. His dark green eyes reminded her of the rebirth of spring, of hope after a long winter vigil. They were really quite remarkable eyes, she reflected, so filled with fire and heat.
"Research?" Ian asked, wanting to know more, having to know more.
"Hmmm… yes. My research into the habits and nature of supernatural creatures," she answered. "In other words, I have done an intense study on things that go bump and bite in the night. All things supernatural, that is."
Fascinating, he thought. And frightening. Most ladies would be terrified to admit such creatures existed. None, he knew, would try to research the subject to do just that.
"Is that truly why you were snooping about my house last night?" Ian knew all about sneaking and spying, having been employed by the government.
"I wasn't snooping," she responded hotly. "I was intending to conduct important scientific studies, and your name topped my list of subjects."
Clair silently seethed. He thought her to be one of those people who was always going about indiscriminately sticking their noses into someone else's business—like that Homes fellow, who was a friend of her uncle Victor and aunt Mary.
"Very important scientific studies. You know, extremely important inquiries into the realm of the arcane."
"I see," Ian said, thinking how cute she looked with her deep gray eyes shooting sparks at him. "I should have realized that any niece of Victor Frankenstein would be interested in the more unusual roads of scientific inquiry."
"You mentioned my uncle last night… albeit mistakenly. Do you perhaps know him?" Clair asked.
"Who could not know the great Dr. Victor Frankenstein? I attended several of his lectures during my university days in Vienna. I was quite impressed with some of his suppositions. Although some of those theories do trip into the realm of the extremely bizarre."
"Such as?"
"The cloning of people."
"Ah yes. One of his favorite theories. Uncle Victor believes that someday scientists will clone many things. Perhaps a goat or a sheep or even people. He also believes doctors will be able to harvest organs from dying patients and place them in people who have weak hearts or kidneys."
Ian arched a skeptical brow.
"It is a beautiful hope for the future."
"Hope springs eternal."
"True. Hope and good old-fashioned hard work and research. Research my uncle is on the cutting edge of," Clair added proudly. "Uncle Victor is quite brilliant. Perhaps the most brilliant of all scientists alive."
Ian nodded politely, amused. Victor Frankenstein was brilliant, but he was also a card-carrying lunatic. He was most famous for his forays into animating dead flesh—queer work which had created widespread controversy, not to mention chaos when his creation escaped and roamed the countryside, eating up blind men's food and setting fire to the Ritz after a particularly bohemian display of dancing.
Ian couldn't help cringing when he remembered that fated night. He and some of his cronies had gone to see the dancing monster the night the Ritz had gone up in flames.
Ian sighed, admitting to himself that Victor and the monster had danced a mean soft-shoe. But who else but a card-carrying lunatic would introduce a monster to the Countess of Deville and expect all to go well?
The countess was well known for her love of big men and their larger-than-life attributes, and one couldn't get much bigger than Victor's monster. The countess was also known to be rather randy and grabby. She had grabbed the monster by his assets and squeezed.
The monster, taken by surprise, had barked into the Earl of Kent, who in turn fell on the Marquis of Stoker, who in turn landed on Major Van Helsing, who knocked over both Mr. Bear and his wife, etcetera and etcetera, until the stage lights had been knocked over and the stage curtains had caught fire. It had been a typical Frankenstein fiasco. Still, Ian didn't want to hurt Clair's familial feelings.
"Yes, your uncle is brilliant. By the way, how is the monster faring?"
Clair frowned. How rude! "We don't call him the monster. His name is Frederick Frankenstein. My uncle adopted him, you know. And he is doing quite fine, thank you."
She crossed her fingers behind her back. She had recently gotten a letter from her uncle Victor. Silently she sent a prayer upward: Frederick, please come home. Frederick had wandered away again, and the villagers were in an uproar. Sometimes, she thought, Frederick was worse than a mischievous pup—although in his favor, Frederick was house-trained.
"You know, Frederick has really had quite a hard life, growing up as he did," she told Baron Huntsley.
"You mean, being pieced together from different human body parts?" Ian asked.
Clair shot him a quick glance to see if Ian was mocking her, then motioned for Brooks to enter with the tea tray. "I mean he is lonely. After all, he is the only one of his kind. It sometimes makes him rather melancholy. I used to give him pets. Once I gave him several lizards for company, when he first came to live with us." Clair stopped suddenly, a strange look on her face.
Brooks set the tray on the table. Seeing the sad look on his mistress's face, he tried consoling her in his stiff-necked, formal way. "Now, Miss Clair, you couldn't have known that Frederick would eat those iguanas or the fish."
Ian coughed, trying to cover his laughter. "Fish?" he finally managed to inquire with a straight face.
Clair nodded, pouring the tea. "Goldfish." Again, she shook her head. "It seems they are a favorite delicacy of Frederick's."
Holding up the tray, she asked, "Cream or sugar?" Ian shook his head, taking the cup as Brooks left the room. Clair sighed, watching the butler depart. "Well, I guess not everyone is a pet lover," she mused sadly.
"Quite," Ian agreed, taking a sip of tea. It was spicy. He commended himself on his excellent ability not to howl with laughter at her downcast face and outrageous statements. She was a mixture of refreshing innocence, bulldog determination, and the most outrageous habit of saying whatever came into her mind.
Still, he needed to grab hold of himself. Enough admiring of this madcap female, he had information to ferret out!
Observing that her butler had left the room, Ian went on the attack. "Miss Frankenstein, can you tell me why you thought I was a vampire?"