Page 28 of Wynter's Bite

Once back in bed, Bethany was unable to sleep for her racing mind and spinning dizziness from the laudanum. Though her father had treated her with indifference ever since she left the schoolroom, she never imagined that she’d come to mean so little to him.

At least her parents seemed to ignore her blurting out that Justus was a vampire, aside from her father’s mocking remark. Fear and shame coiled in her belly. Justus had said it was forbidden for vampires to reveal themselves to mortals, yet under the influence of this dratted drug, Bethany had told his secret. Thankfully, no one seemed to believe her, but what if they told Justus what she’d said?

Although he’d said it was forbidden to kill people, surely Justus would have to do something to protect himself. And what if her mistake made him hate her? Her soul ached at the thought. She prayed her father would be too embarrassed to mention her outburst.

The minutes crawled like hours until at last the sun began to set. Bethany rang for her maid to help her dress. She still insisted on wearing the white satin gown, even though her right stocking would not fit over her bandaged knee. She then chose to have her hair arranged in an upswept crown of curls atop her head and threaded with white roses from the garden.

When she made her way downstairs with the aid of the cane, grimacing in pain as her knee protested with every step, her mother gaped at her.

“Are you certain that is what you are wearing this evening?” Cecily asked with lips pursed in disapproval. “I daresay, it is much too formal for a night at home. Your father is already worried about your mental state.”

“I wish to look pleasing for my future husband,” she said plainly.

Her mother sighed. “Are you certain he is coming? It is nearly eight o’clock.”

It is not yet dark, she longed to say, but held her tongue. “Yes. He will come.” As they made their way to the drawing room, she changed the subject. “Did you know the truth about my grandmother?”

Gnawing on her lower lip, Mother nodded. “I thought it best to conceal such a scandalous truth from you. I know very little about the circumstances of her madness, but your father told me that she saw ghosts and believed people to be possessed by demons.” She gave Bethany a nervous, sideways glance, and shook her head. “Let’s speak no more of it and wait for your caller. I do hope you know what you are doing, accepting that man’s suit.”

“I do,” she said firmly.

When they entered the drawing room, Bethany’s father regarded her with a thunderous frown. “You’ve ruined me, you know. The moment he left our home, Tench called upon every notable family in Rochester and told everyone that you are stark raving mad. The laughter could be heard across the county.” His face reddened further. “Now I’ll never be governor and it will take years to salvage my reputation. You had best hope for a fast engagement with de Wynter because we will have to return to London as soon as possible. Furthermore, you look like a fool, wearing a ball gown for supper at home.”

A fast engagement. Bethany nodded, feeling a twinge of pity at her father’s humiliation. She looked at the clock and then out the dark window, praying that Justus would arrive soon, that her father would treat him well. That maybe they could escape all of this ugliness and run to Gretna Green to elope.

That is, if the Lord Vampire of Gretna Green would allow it.

The minutes ticked by faster, yet still Justus had yet to arrive. The servants bustled in and out of the room, refilling tea and reporting on supper. Bethany tried to tell herself that Justus was seeking his own meal as her father declared that they had waited long enough and ordered them to the dining room.

Bethany picked at her overcooked roast chicken and darted glances at the doorway, waiting for the butler to announce Justus’s arrival.

“I do not think your suitor is coming.” Her father vocalized her deepest fear. “In fact, I do not think he is a suitor at all, much less a mythical creature. I think you fabricated all of this nonsense in your head.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I’d been long concerned that you were descending into madness, but refused to see the truth.”

“No.” She shook her head.

Bethany’s mother patted her hand and addressed her husband. “Now, dear, she did suffer from quite a fall. Perhaps she struck her head. She’ll come to her senses soon enough.”

“I injured my knee, not my head,” Bethany retorted, looking at the clock again. It was already a quarter past ten.

“All the same, I think I will have the doctor examine you again.” Cecily gave her a pitying look. “Your father is right. You did not mention anything about Lord de Wynter until after your fall. Are you certain this wasn’t a dream, brought on by the laudanum?”

“It was no dream!” Bethany rose from the table, crying out as her knee flared in agony.

Mother took her elbow. “Darling, perhaps you should go to bed and have another dram of laudanum. Your injuries are clearly paining you.”

“No laudanum.” Bethany did not trust herself under the influence of that vile substance.

When the footman handed her the cane, she bobbed a crooked curtsy, biting back a scream of pain. “I will wait in the library.”

“She is mad.” Her father shook his head. “It runs in the female line in my family. If only you’d given me a son, Cecily.”

“Charles...” her mother pleaded.

Bethany refused to hear any more and made her way out of the dining room. With every painful step, Bethany prayed with growing desperation.

Please let him come. Please let him come.

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