Page 87 of Her Creation

“Where is your father?” Frances demanded gruffly.

“He is in bed, recovering from a minor sickness,” she replied with precisely the amount of politeness required.

Across the room, Innominatus exhaled only once she had moved on.

The man nodded, though the scowl did not leave his face. “Likely from some of those odd experiments of his. Tell me, is it true what the baron says? Did he have five hearts brought in from overseas for your father? Whatever sort of experiment would require five hearts?” He paused, eyes narrowing. “The baron seems to recall it was meant for some sort of remedy for dropsy.”

Victoria froze where she stood, her body turning rigid as if locked in place. Why did the baron know about the body parts her father had been obtaining? Had the baron been a part of facilitating their arrival? Her father had always been careful, almost secretive, about where the materials for their experiments originated. What else did the baron know? She doubted her father would have given him unnecessary details, yet the realization still made the skin along the back of her neck itch. It felt as though there were entire layers of her father’s life that had been deliberately withheld from her. Why did men believe withholding information from women was protection? If he had wanted her to take over, even quietly, even in secrecy, he should have told her these things. Knowledge would have protected her far better than ignorance ever could.

“No, of course you do not know anything,” the man drawled when she failed to answer, his lip curling with disdain. “Why would you?” He gave her a shallow nod that barely passed for a bow. “Good day, Miss Frankenstein.”

“I know enough. I know that you have the French disease,” she muttered under her breath as she glowered at his retreating back.

The bitterness burned hot in her chest. She loathed being treated like she was inferior. She had learned everything her father knew without the benefit of formal schooling or peers, and despite the few things that she still needed to learn, she was capable of every miracle they praised her father for. Something foreign and devilish began to grow in her heart.

Across the ballroom, Innominatus felt the shift in her before he saw it. He had been listening to a man ramble on about provincial politics, his responses sparse and carefully neutral, when something in his chest tightened without warning. His gaze lifted instinctively, cutting across the crowd until it found her.

He saw the way her shoulders stiffened. The way her hand curled slightly at her side, angry. The way she stood too still, as though moving might shatter her. Something had happened. That man had done something to upset her. He scanned the room and mentally marked the man.

His attention sharpened. The voices around him dulled.

“Victoria!”

Victoria snapped around to see Helena and Johanna standing together near the edge of the ballroom, watching people dance the Kontratanz. She made her way toward them, grateful for the interruption. It was an odd feeling that had burrowed inside of her just now. Silently something warned her to avoid the feeling again.

“How are you? You both look beautiful,” Victoria said as she approached.

“Where is he?”

“Is he here?”

Victoria drew in a long breath, reminding herself that her friends meant well. They were operating under the assumption that there was something romantic happening between her and her father’s assistant. Several sharp replies came to mind, but she filtered herself.

“Mr. Creatura has accompanied me tonight and is in the other room, I believe,” she said carefully. She knew where he was exactly. He followed her, maintaining just enough distance that they could see each other. “Though he is free to go wherever he likes.” She winced inwardly. That was not what she had meant to imply. Only that he was not attached to her side.

“I see,” Helena said, stifling a smile as she exchanged a knowing glance with Johanna.

The reaction frustrated Victoria, but she was uncertain if she was just growing more defensive or not. “I am unsure what information you believe yourselves to be privy to, but I can assure you there is nothing happening between Inno—Mr. Creatura and myself. He is my father’s assistant, and that is all.”

“If you are to be cross with anyone, let it be me,” Helena replied. “I only harbor a wild hope that you might find someone who sees you in all your magnificent glory as we do. The situation simply sounded too perfect not to speculate. And he is reasonably good-looking.”

Victoria’s mouth lifted into a brief, unwilling smile at the sound of her friend’s laughter. “And how would you know if he is reasonably good-looking? You have not yet seen him.”

Johanna leaned in with a bright grin. “Because despite us not seeing him yet, every available female in this manor has mentioned their devastation at his refusal to dance with them.”

Victoria’s eyes flashed. “He’s refusing to dance with them?”

Johanna smirked and side-eyed Helena. “He told them he’s only interested in dancing with you.”

Victoria’s teeth clenched together. “He did not.”

“He did.”

“Hush,” Helena whispered sharply. “Wilhelm and Sophia are coming over.”

“Victoria, Helena, Johanna, how are you? Are you enjoying the evening?” Wilhelm asked.

The women responded politely; Johanna gushed about the beautiful display of food they had passed on the way into the ballroom.