The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein

'Yes, I was. But then I decided I wasn't. And Asher wasn't a werewolf. And I didn't even suspect Lady Montcrief or those horrible Bears—although I did think Mr. Bear had terrible taste in whom he let into his bed,' she added thoughtfully.

Ian gave her a hug. 'Clair, anyone can make a mistake. I'm sure that on your next project, your spectacular research will astonish us all.'

'You're trying to placate me,' she accused.

'Is it working?' Ian asked with an incorrigible grin.

She touched his hand, needing to tell him that she had promised Asher to give up her vampire thesis. And after seeing injuries to both herself and Ian, she'd decided vampire sleuthing was just too dangerous. Wisely, she decided to add werewolves to the mix of what to avoid. 'Ian, about my research—'

He interrupted. 'I told you it was fine with me. Do whatever you want, as long as you'll be my wife.'

Regretfully she explained, 'I can't reveal what I know about vampires. Asher revealed much to me. But it's too dangerous letting the human world know that theirs and the supernatural world coexist side by side.'

Ian nodded. 'No prestigious award?' he asked.

'I guess not. All my big dreams,' Clair said. She hesitated, gazing at Ian, wondering why she didn't feel worse. Then, suddenly, a big grin split her face as she realized a fundamental truth. 'You are my award, the only prestigious and precious award I need.'

Ian could scarcely believe her words, but the truth was there for him to see, shining in Clair's eyes. 'I love you, Clair Frankenstein,' he repeated. 'Marry me.'

On the other side of the bed, Clair's aunt, who had slept through Asher's confessions and Ian's vow of love, awakened at the word 'marry.'

'Marriage!' Lady Mary trilled. 'How perfectly divine, and such a surprise! Truly, a marvelous surprise. We'll have the wedding at St. George's Cathedral in three months. That will give me long enough to plan the wedding.' Giving Ian a hard look, the woman added, 'And you, young man, stay out of my niece's bed. I'll have no six-month wonder baby to present to my friends.'

Clair choked as Ian matched her aunt look for look.

'I hate to disappoint you, Lady Mary, but I am getting a special license. Clair and I will be married in three days.'

His statement got Lady Mary's back up. She puffed out like a bantam rooster. 'That cock won't crow, young man. You'll be married in two months with four hundred of our closest friends invited to the wedding.'

No, Ian thought, this cock won't crow, but it will stand to attention. There was no way he was waiting two months to have Clair back in his bed. 'One week,' he bartered.

'I haven't said yes,' Clair interjected. Neither Ian nor her aunt paid her any attention.

Lady Mary ran on like a train on a one-way track, butting heads with the equally stubborn baron. 'Seven weeks and not a day sooner. Victor and Frederick must come to London, and Frederick must get some new clothes. He takes forever to outfit, you know.'

Ian rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, a monster and a quack at his wedding. 'They can wear what they have on,' he grumped.

'Poppycock.' Lady Mary snorted indelicately. 'Pure poppycock. Whoever heard of the bride having no one to give her away? And a Frankenstein bride at that!' She was indomitable, her family stubbornness rising to the occasion. 'Clair will need a dress befitting the grand occasion,' she went on, 'and she will, of course, wear the Frankenstein veil. It has been handed down from bride to bride for over two hundred years.'

Ian heard Clair moan. Surprised, he patted her hand.

Clair's moan wasn't from pain, but from disbelief. The Frankenstein veil was a curse. It was so ugly, no self-respecting bride could possibly want to wear the hideous thing.

Oblivious to all but her wedding plans, Lady Mary continued. 'I, of course, will wear a light shade of blue, I believe. It will take the dressmaker quite a while to sew all the little flowers I will need on my gown.'

Ian was not to be outmatched by the feisty little Tartar, even if he was surprised by her suddenly crotchety attitude. She was actually quite contrary when crossed. He wondered if Ozzie knew this less-than-attractive side to Lady Mary's character. 'Ten days,' he offered.

Tugging on Ian's arm, Clair once again tried to gain his attention. 'I haven't said yes.'

Lady Mary was just as determined as Ian, and she intended to gain the time she needed to plan the wedding of the century. Her plan had worked out, after all; she deserved to benefit from it. 'Six weeks,' she suggested.

Clair yanked on Ian's arm again. 'I haven't said yes!' she shouted.

However, no one was paying the least attention.

'Two weeks,' Ian bargained, his expression blank. It was his poker face. And though these stakes were high, he wasn't bluffing. And he was sure he would win. Though his Plans A and B had failed miserably, his Plan C had been a success. He was finally marrying Clair.

'Five weeks.'

Ian shook his head. Clair's aunt was a Trojan, standing firmly against his formidable Huntsley will.

'One month. It is my last offer,' Lady Mary said. Inside, she was beaming. She had the crafty baron cornered. One month was what she had wanted all along. One month to plan the wedding. It was enough time for her to get everything ready, and also a short enough spell in case Clair was already with child.

Ian nodded, shrewdly judging his opponent's joy. 'You win, Lady Mary. One month.'

'I haven't said I'd marry anyone!' Clair shouted for the umpteenth time.

In perfect unison, both Ian and her aunt turned to stare at her, both arching their aristocratic brows and making her feel like a child. Then, without further ado, they went back to discussing the wedding plans.

Clair would have stomped her foot if she could have gotten out of bed. She would have yelled some more, but she was so tired. She would just sleep a little and then argue with these two impossible idiots afterward. She had to admit, they were idiots she loved.

She fell asleep before Ian's tender kiss, and so she missed all the discussion of her wedding. Thus she ended up wearing the Frankenstein veil, that veil guaranteed to make any bride cranky. When she woke, she would put it all in an update to her friend:

Dear Jane,

I wasn't speaking to Ian, but now lam again. In fact, I am in love with him! We went to a house party at the Earl of Wolverton's where I had hoped to get the evidence I needed to prove my hypotheses. Unfortunately, I almost got myself and Ian killed. The Honorable Christopher Wilder— who was not so honorable—is now quite dead. Truly dead and not just undead, for he was a vampire. So were Mr. Bear and his wife, along with Lady Montcrief. Aren't you glad you weren't at this house party with all these vampires? Imagine the stakings your father would have required!

Anyway, the Earl of Wolverton is not a werewolf and Ian is wonderful. Have I told you that before? I am in love, and we are to be married.

Oh, and the Duke of Ghent is really a chef, not a warlock, and he wishes he wasn't a duke. He is courting Aunt Mary. Isn't that marvelous? He was once a suitor for my aunt, before he had to marry into a great deal of money. Well, he didn't actually marry the money, he married the heiress who had the money.

I wish you to attend the wedding—my wedding to Ian, not Aunt Mary to the duke. Although they may marry in the not-so-distant future. The wedding is in four weeks. (My wedding.)

With fondest affection,

Clair

P.S. Great-aunt Abby is giving me the city of Alexandria as my wedding gift. Yes, I knew you'd understand.

P.P.S. I am also being forced to wear the Frankenstein family wedding veil. Each night I am