“I speak only the truth,” he said.
She tucked her hands behind her back. “Is there something else you required, my lord? I still have much work to do to complete Miss Griffith’s garments.”
Such cold formality. He almost wished he had said nothing. Watching her pour her heart into her drawing had made him want to leap into her mind and discover her secrets. Unfortunately, he had not yet developed that skill.
“I have bad news,” he told her.
She frowned. “If Miss Griffith is unhappy with me, I can—”
“It’s not that,” he said, interrupting because her voice had taken on a nervous edge. “I have severed my association with Miss Griffith. I will still pay her bill in full, but I came to ask you to take her place.”
She shuffled back, holding out her hands as if to ward him away. “M-My lord!”
He leaned in and was relieved when she did not shuffle backward. “You need not fear the unpleasant consequences. I am quite incapable of producing children.” Creating life was beyond the abilities of a vampire, not that he would tell her that. When his former mistresses had subtly inquired if he wanted to use French letters or other preventives, he had declined and used the excuse of a wartime injury to his genitals. That was usually enough to prevent further curiosity.
“I-I am only a mere dressmaker, my lord,” she said. Her cheeks were so red, he feared she might faint.
“I would pay you handsomely. You would want for nothing.”
If it meant having her by his side, he’d offer a king’s ransom. He had more money than he could spend in decades and no offspring to inherit. His maker had seen to that.
She licked her lips. “What, exactly, would you require of me?”
He grinned wider. She was so close to sayingyes. All she needed was proper encouragement, and he knew exactly how to lure her in.
“To start, a fancy-dress costume for the duke’s masquerade.”
“A costume?” She tilted her head. “I am a dressmaker, not a tailoress.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Are you incapable of producing men’s garments?”
She ran her fingers over her worktable. “No. I’ve made several suits for my father.” She shook her head. “But I have no male staff. It would be inappropriate.”
She was, it seemed, perhaps willing to become his mistress but balked at the idea of taking his measurements. What an odd woman. Her increasingly spicy scent tickled his nose and made his fangs ache. When he had her beneath him, he would introduce her to the particular pleasure a vampire lover could bring. He was especially eager to plunge his fangs into the large artery in her neck as she spasmed around his cock.
“Imagine it,” he whispered. He ran his fingers down the line of black buttons that closed the front of her gown. “You could attend events at my side.” He slid his hand up and cupped her cheek. “You would be surrounded by lords and ladies wearing designs made by the city’s premiere dressmakers.”
It wouldn’t even require threatening or bribery on his part to keep her relationship with him a secret, as he could glamor any human into forgetting Miss Carter’s face. He was not nearly as skilled at glamor as his nest sibling, Seraphina, but he could manage it with concentration.
“In fact,” he continued, “I’ll compensate you for the potential risk to your reputation as well.” He stepped closer. “During my previous visit, I mentioned a list.”
Her eyes were so huge, he could see the whites around her pupils. “A list of scandalous items.”
“Excellent. You remember. Miss Griffith was assisting me. Now that we no longer have an arrangement, I need a replacement.” He waited a few seconds, then added, “I wish for you to attend events at my side while I wear the garments you create. I will pay you ten pounds for every task that requires your assistance, plus an additional two hundred if you see me through to the completion of my quest.”
That total was larger than the dowries of many unmarried ladies, but it was worth it, as it would mean engaging her for several weeks, at least.
Her tongue flicked across her lower lip. “There are dozens of tailors in London, and thousands of ladies who would eagerly assist you. Why me?”
He was tempted for a moment to tell the truth, that he had less than a year to live because he had failed to find his fated mate, but what would that accomplish? She would only laugh at how ridiculous it sounded, or call him delusional, or worst of all,pityhim. He’d had quite enough of that from Dr. Rysel. He didn’t need someone else to try to convince him to resume his search. Nor was he foolish enough to believe he was lucky enough that Miss Carter could be his betrothed, although he couldn’t know for certain until he drank her blood.
No, all he wanted was to make the most of his remaining time by engaging in activities so hedonistic, they would have made Caligula blush.
Preferably with Miss Carter at his side.
He smiled. “You interest me. That is all the reason I require.”
She huffed. “I should have expected.” Then, as if realizing the rudeness of that statement, she flushed.
