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could never go back to hiding in her nursery, no matter what happened. Now she had something she
wanted. If Erich stood in her way, then he must be vanquished like the dragon he was. Dragon or
chimera? She would find out.
She threw off the covers and leapt out of bed. Stephan had shown her the way. If the worst happened
and Stephan was killed and she wasn't, then she must take his advice. And now his advice served her
purpose in another way. She sat at her writing desk. Mrs. Simpson would come with breakfast soon.
She had to have the note for Jennings written and the others, as well.
Ann came downstairs in a plain, serviceable gown of gray-blue, not the one that Mrs. Simpson had
brought up as Erich's gift. She would never give him the satisfaction of obedience. Mrs. Simpson was
waiting for her in the main hall. Ann raised her brows in question.
Mrs. Simpson nodded. Jennings had done his part. Her hasty plan was in train.
Ann had her emotions almost under control. She would mourn for her uncle. There would be time for
that. But just now she had to muster every one of her faculties, and that meant putting grief aside. The
library was the only habitable room suited for the ceremony, according to Erich. She threw open the
door. Inside, three men turned to look at her. Squire Fladgate frowned at her from his place standing by
the fire. Mr. Cobblesham rose from his chair, beaming, as if a wedding were a cause for joy in any
circumstance. Erich was dressed in his dandified finest, with primrose-yellow pantaloons, a coat of blue
superfine, a cream wool waistcoat stretched over his paunch, and a cravat so high he could barely turn
his head. He stood by the sideboard, pouring himself a brandy. Not surprising. His horror at her plain
dress was almost comical.
"What? Are you not wearing the gown I sent, Cousin?" His voice had palpable outrage in it. "Do you
insult me?"
"I have much to do today," she said calmly. "I have no stomach for frills."
Mr. Brandywine, her uncle's steward, and his solicitor, Mr. Yancy, were not here. Mr. Brandywine she
had no doubt of, but Mr. Yancy had to come all the way from Wells. Had Jennings found him? Was he
willing to undertake the journey? Erich strode forward to loom over her. "You may insult me but the
result will be the same." He looked up to see Mrs. Simpson bowing herself out of the room. "Simpson,
you are wanted here as witness."
Mrs. Simpson looked as though she might faint. But she stepped back into the room.
"My, my," Ann marveled. "And Squire Fladgate as well as Mr. Cobblesham to attend. I am quite
honored." She let her voice go hard. "And to think I am to be married even before my uncle is laid to
rest. Strange priorities, Mr. Cobblesham."
"We thought it best," Squire Fladgate chuffed.
"Such haste!" Ann tut-tutted. "Beware of wasted effort."
Behind her, she heard a scuffling in the hall. The door was opened. Murmured greetings. Male voices.
Two of them. Thank God! "Gentlemen, should we not wait for our other guests?"
"Guests?" Erich was suspicious. As well he should be.
"Think of them as the bride's party," she said kindly. There was a good chance her gambit would fail.
Perhaps these "guests" would range themselves with Erich. But she had never felt so& strong. Was it
Stephan's faith in her? He might know her better than she did herself.
Polsham let Mr. Brandywine and Mr. Yancy into the library and withdrew. Mr. Brandywine was a short
man, lean and energetic. Mr. Yancy, on the other hand, was tail, an elegant figure whose many wrinkles
could not hide that once he had been a very handsome specimen. Each man carried a portfolio of papers.
Mr. Yancy's was of leather. Both looked round the room and took in the situation before they focused
on her. Mr. Brandywine's eyes were snapping with anger. Mr. Yancy gave her a slight smile. His old
eyes seemed wise, even for one who had lived only seventy years. My, how her standards had changed
of late!
"What does this mean?" Erich asked.
Ann took charge. "Mr. Brandywine, Mr. Yancy, I believe you know Squire Fladgate and Mr.
Cobblesham. But let me introduce you to my cousin, Erich Van Helsing. And this is Mrs. Simpson." Mrs.
Simpson looked as though she wished heartily she was elsewhere.
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