The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride (4 page)

Really?

The speed limit dropped to thirty-five, which was just as well because she couldn’t help but slow down when she hit the main drag.

She’d never seen a town like this in her life.

The general color scheme of everything—signs, buildings, benches and a tourist trolley with the word
Summer Spooktacular
emblazoned on the side—seemed to be black and orange, with purple and green coming in a strong second. Hot pink and midnight blue weren’t far behind in third.

Metal brackets in the shapes of cobwebs angled off the street lamps. Some of the buildings were deliberately slanted to look rickety. A large fountain with a man-sized gargoyle front and center decorated the beautifully landscaped park that made up the large main square. Through the trees, the gargoyle actually seemed to be moving. Animatronics maybe?

She shook her head in disbelief. This place was kitschy and crazy but in a very cool way.

The voice on her navigation app urged her to make the next left, but she kept driving just to check the place out. The businesses had names like Misty’s Boo-tique, The Hair Scare (which didn’t exactly instill confidence in the final product), The Ice Scream Shop and Hats In The Belfry. There was a bar called DOA, which apparently stood for Drinks On Arrival, a beer and hot dog joint named Franks-n-Steins and a diner dubbed Mummy’s whose slogan was “Our food is to die for!”

“Are you kidding me?” But tourists mobbed the streets. It was May, months away from Halloween, but even so a few of the adults and almost all of the little kids wore costumes. There was something cheesy but charming about it. “Cappy, this place is like Willy Wonka does Halloween.”

Captain sighed in perpetual feline boredom and shifted to cover his face with his paw.

“Thanks for chiming in.” She made a U-turn at the next light just to shut her navigation up. She followed the prompts, winding through the back roads (who knew Georgia had hills? Mountains? Whatever.) until she came to a community called Ravenswood.

She turned into the development as another of the
Summer Spooktacular
trolleys was pulling out. Apparently, this was part of a tour.

After the town, nothing should surprise her, but the neighborhood looked like it had been designed by a Hollywood set maker. Most of the houses, all Gothic or Victorian, resembled the precursors to some really good haunted mansions.

The homes were intricate, immaculate and beautiful. Sculpted topiaries ala Edward Scissorhands dotted the manicured yards.

“This is like Stepford meets the Addams family. Who built this place? Tim Burton?” Cappy had no response. She followed Poe Avenue to Hitchcock Lane and made the turn.

A stand of tightly spiraled evergreens blocked her view for a second as she pulled into the long drive of 19 Hitchcock Lane. Then she saw the house. Estate. Mansion. Whatever. It was too big and too grand and too ivy-covered to be just a
house
. Everything about it, from the toffee-brown brick, vanilla-white columns and trimmings to the gorgeous arched windows and slate roof, was fairy tale perfection.

“Wow,” she whispered.

Captain Underpants snored.

His lack of enthusiasm didn’t ruin the moment. Then she realized that she hadn’t showered in almost twenty-four hours, meaning she still smelled like garlic (one of the unfortunate side effects of working at Rastinelli’s), and that the man who owned a house like this might not even let her bring her Captain inside. Well, it wasn’t like she was actually here to marry him, was it? So who cared if he thought she was gross? But if he was some weird anti-cat guy, she’d make a big fuss and tell him the agency had promised pets were okay.

Although she would like to stay long enough for things in Brooklyn to cool off. If cooling off was actually a possibility.

She parked beneath one of the massive shade trees that bordered the property, then flipped down the mirror on the visor and took a look. “Yikes.”

She finger-combed the waves around her face into submission, pinched her cheeks for color, wiped off some of yesterday’s mascara that had melted under her eyes and sighed. It was what it was.

She looked at her still sleeping companion, who was clearly on the verge of caring. “If he won’t let you in, we’re bugging out. Promise.” She kissed Captain on his silky head. “Be right back.” No point in waking him if they weren’t staying.

She got out of the car and trudged up to the house, straightening as she reminded herself she was Annabelle Givens, resident of upstate New York, not Delaney James, Brooklyn resident on the run from the mob.

As she walked up the steps to the impressive wraparound porch, the door opened and a man stepped out. “Hallo, miss. Can I help you?”

Okay, so Annabelle’s perfect match was a little older than Delaney had imagined. He was silver fox handsome in the way of Mark Harmon or Pierce Brosnan, though, so it wasn’t going to be a hardship to spend some time with him. Especially not with that swoony British accent.

“Hi.” She waved nervously. “I’m, um, Annabelle Givens. Eternamate sent me.” Out loud the words sounded so blatantly false she expected him to call her a liar-pants and shoo her from the property.

“Ah, yes, Miss Givens. We weren’t expecting you until next week.”

Okay, no liar-pants. “Next week? I’m so sorry, I’m horrible with dates. I must have misread the paperwork.” She rummaged in her bag like she was looking for it, which she wasn’t, hoping he’d stop her.

He did. “It’s not a problem, miss. We are delighted to have you.”

She raised her brows. “We?” What exactly had she gotten herself into?

“Master Ellingham and I, that is.”

“You’re not Master, I mean, Mr. Ellingham?”

He laughed. “No, miss. I’m Bartholomew Stanhill. I’m Master Ellingham’s secretary.” He held out his hand. “Call me Stanhill. Everyone does.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, a mix of relief and disappointment coursing through her. Stanhill wasn’t her match after all, which made sense considering the age difference, but he seemed like such a nice guy. Maybe his employer would be too. “Is Master Ellingham here?”

Stanhill smiled. “Yes, but he’s a rather late sleeper, which is why I came out to meet you and help you with your bags.”

A late sleeper? Must be nice to be that independently wealthy. She felt a pang of remorse at taking this guy away from the real Annabelle. “About the bags…I brought my cat with me. I hope that’s not going to be an issue.”

Stanhill merely nodded. “Not at all, miss. You can’t be expected to leave your pet for the entire month you’re here, can you? And after all, if things work out, your cat will be living here too. Might as well see how everyone gets on, eh?”

“Absolutely.” They expected her to be here only a month? Maybe she wouldn’t have to try quite so hard then.

He raised his brows. “Shall I get your bags, then, and leave you to the wee beastie?”

“He’s not so wee, but yes, that sounds good.”

“What’s the large beastie’s name?”

“Captain Un—I mean, just Captain.” Annabelle Givens didn’t seem like the sort of woman who’d name her pet after a series of children’s books that generally encouraged bucking authority. Or celebrated underpants. But Cappy’s black and white markings clearly made him look like he was wearing a pair of tighty whities, and so, after the Princess Buttercream fiasco, the name had stuck.

Stanhill peered into her car. “Well, I see what you mean about him not being wee. Gorgeous creature, though.”

“Thanks.” She opened the passenger door and scooped Cappy into her arms, nearly throwing her back out with the effort. “He’s a Maine Coon. They can get to be twenty-five pounds.”

Stanhill studied Captain. “And this one?”

Delaney’s mouth twitched. “Twenty-six. And a half.” She sighed. “He’s a little spoiled, but we’re working on it.”

Stanhill chuckled. “Likes his kitchen scraps and such, does he?”

“Too much. Keep the bacon locked up.” She nudged the door closed with her hip. “I’ll come back for the litter box.”

Stanhill grabbed her suitcase, weekender and laptop bag. “Very good. Follow me and I’ll show you up to your room.”

The house was as gorgeous inside as it was out, but Delaney tried to keep her oohing and aahing to a minimum so she wouldn’t seem like she’d never been inside a nice house before. “Mr. Ellingham has a lovely place.”

“Feel free to make yourself at home. The only room that’s off limits is the basement.” Stanhill nodded as he led the way up a flight of stairs and down a long, gracious hall. “And I’m sure he’d want you to call him Hugh, miss.”

Knowing the basement was off limits made her want to immediately run down there and check it out, but that would have to be without Captain in her arms. Any further and she’d need a hand truck to get him the rest of the way. Fortunately, Stanhill set one of her bags down in front of a door, opened it and stood aside for her to enter.

There was no holding back a gasp this time. “Oh, this is beautiful.” It was less a room and more a suite, complete with a sitting area with a fireplace, an enormous four-poster bed and an adjoining bathroom. The place was bigger than her entire third-floor walk-up. Actually, the bed might be bigger on its own. She bent her head to whisper in Cappy’s ear, “If you destroy anything in this room, I will trade you for a dog.”

Stanhill brought her bags in and set them at the foot of the bed.

“Thank you. I’m going to keep Captain confined to this room for a few days. It’ll be easier for him to adjust to the new surroundings that way.” And it would give her a reason to keep her door shut.

“Very good, miss. Would you like a tour of the home? Can I get you something to eat?”

She smiled wistfully. “It was a long drive, so if it’s all right with you, after I get Captain set up, all I really want is a hot shower and a nap.”

“Of course. Should I wake you for dinner?”

“Yes! In fact, I’ll set my alarm. What time should I be down?”

“Six P.M. And if I can get you anything before then, just let me know.”

“I’m good. Just need Cappy’s bag of supplies and his box. Oh! Would I be able to use the Wi-Fi?”

“Certainly. Log on to Ellnet, then the password is twilight1665. I’ll leave you to it then, miss.”

Twilight, huh? Maybe Hugh Ellingham was a fan of the books. Then again, considering the town he lived in, it might also just be an attempt at humor. “Thanks again.”

Stanhill gave a little nod and left.

She put Captain on the bed, then jogged back down to the car and grabbed the rest of his stuff. Stanhill hadn’t hesitated to give her the Wi-Fi code or acted strangely around her at all. Except for the basement thing. If he suspected she was a phony, he’d hidden it well.

Now she just had to convince the man who actually owned this place. More than that—she had to make him believe she was his perfect match.

Being able to walk in daylight didn’t mean it was Hugh’s preference, nor did it change the fact that it was in a vampire’s nature to favor the evening hours over those awash in sunlight. Unless there was pressing business to attend to, he compromised by rising late, when the sun was lower in the sky and the shadows longer.

He walked into the kitchen to find Stanhill sitting at the table polishing silver. “Are we having company that I forgot about?”

Stanhill snorted. “Indeed, Ellingham. Your
match
has arrived early.”

“My what?” Then he swore softly. “She wasn’t due until next week.” He instantly retracted his fangs, his decision to appear as human as possible to deter his new guest’s advances firmly in place.

“Or the dowager blurred the truth a little.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “That’s more likely. Where is the love sick woman?”

“Asleep in the ivory suite for the last five hours.”

“Good. Maybe she’ll stay there.”

Stanhill set down a spoon and picked up a serving fork. “She doesn’t seem particularly love sick.”

Hugh poured a large black coffee and took it to the table. He sat across from Stanhill. “That’s promising. What
does
she seem like?”

“Nice. Pretty, probably more so when she’s not worn out from all that driving. Good natured. A light packer. For a woman coming for a month’s visit with a man she hopes to marry, she only brought one large suitcase and one small one.” Stanhill shrugged, then added, “And she’s an animal lover.”