Page 21 of The Vampire's Guide to Wooing a Scholar
Winifred was silent for a full minute before she burst into high-pitched laughter.
The cheek of the wretched woman. He would tackle her to the ground, pin her in place, and bare his fangs until she submitted. Then he’d drag her back to his bedchamber and use his many talents to make her scream his name until her voice became hoarse.
No.
He was more than his nature. It would not rule him.
“O-Oh, Marcus,” she said between gasps. “I did not expect you to have such a dry wit.” She dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief. “An earl confined to his castle who summons a wife from across the ocean. It is like the beginning of a story.”
“I am glad you find my situation so humorous.”
She dropped her handkerchief. It fluttered to the table. “You are serious.” Her face paled until her skin was nearly the color of her handkerchief. “Is it some manner of punishment? Are you a criminal?”
He straightened. “No!”
“Then what keeps you here? Do you suffer from an ailment?” Her brows drew together in sympathy. “Consumption?”
She was a threat. A challenge to his authority. He could not let her live. One bite and she’d be at his mercy. He shoved to his feet so quickly that his chair toppled over sideways. “Enough questions.”
She straightened, and it was like an entirely different woman was standing in front of him, one who was as expressionless as a statue. She squeezed her books to her chest. “What do you want from me, Marcus? Why am I here?”
His mouth went dry. Any answer he could give would be a lie or would reveal truths about himself that he did not yet want her to know. An icy numbness crept up his legs and his visiondarkened at the edges.
“I-I required an assistant,” he said. “That is all.” Then he turned around and did what he did best.
He ran away.
Chapter Twelve
Winifred fled thelibrary in a rush, not caring that the slap of her slippers echoed through the hall. It had taken less than a day for Marcus to reveal his true nature. Felicity had been right all along. She dashed tears from her eyes. Becoming upset would accomplish nothing. Regardless of any emotional pain, her situation was still a tremendous improvement over Toronto. Here, she had a position of privilege, a title, and plenty of time to study the wealth of books at her disposal. Not to mention, he had consented to her request for a companion.
She slowed her pace. That was right; she would still have Felicity. She could suppress her unwanted attraction to Marcus and even continue to act as his assistant if it meant saving Felicity from their uncle.
With her mood significantly improved, she turned the corner and spotted her mother standing outside her room. For a moment, she considered turning around and returning to the library, but then Mrs. Belltree met her gaze and Winifred knew any chance she had of spending the rest of the day reading had vanished.
“There you are,” her mother said with a scowl. “I have been looking for you for hours.”
Winifred clasped her hands at her waist. “Good morning, Mother.”
Mrs. Belltree tutted. “Did you learn nothing from your governess?” She gestured at Winifred’s floral patterned cotton day dress. “You haveguests, my dear.” She sighed. “Your uncle has arrived and wishes tospeak to you.”
Winifred squeezed her hands together so tightly that her fingertips prickled. Her uncle had come to retrieve Felicity. That was the only reasonable explanation for why he would have traveled such a distance when he had not attended the wedding. He couldn’t know Winifred was about to wrest his niece from his clutches. “Perhaps I should change—”
Her mother shook her head. “You have dawdled long enough.” She linked her arm with Winifred’s and drew her down the hall.
“Do not fret. I am certain he only intends to offer congratulations.”
That was unlikely. Ethan Sorrow was about as sentimental as an ancient teacher at the school Winifred had attended in Toronto. Lady Joy, as the pupils had ironically called her, had been prone to swatting the heads of her students with a long ruler whenever they’d answered a question wrong.
At least Winifred did not have to worry about receiving similar treatment from her uncle.
She hoped.
Her mother led her down the stairs to the drawing room, where three people were waiting. The first was Felicity, who was wearing the brown twill dress she hated, along with black kidskin gloves and leather boots. It was an outfit she reserved for traveling. She kept her gaze firmly on her lap as Winifred entered, likely because Vincent lounged on the settee beside her with an arm thrown over the back. There were clumps of dirt stuck to the soles of his boots and flecks of the same on the carpet at his feet.
The last person in the room was the three cousins’ uncle, Mr. Ethan Sorrow. He was dressed in a black-on-black suit, as if he’d just returned from a funeral, and his thin, silver-gray hair was slicked back over his skull. He sat stiff-backed on a plush parlor chair and acknowledged Winifred’s entry into the room with a slight incline of his head.
“Thank you, Margaret,” Uncle Ethan said, addressing Winifred’smother. “It has been too long.” He leaned forward. “It is such a shame you moved so far out of reach.”
