Chapter 23
Tell me what you are wearing to the baron’s ball tomorrow night,” Helena crooned, stretched across a floral upholstered nook surrounded by pale sunlight pouring through the windows.
“I’m not attending,” Victoria said, feeling a flutter of unease at how comfortably her friend lounged.
Helena sat up, her eyes sharp and bright. “What do you mean you aren’t going? You’re going to throw your father’s assistant—what was his name?—to the wolves like that?”
“He is not going either,” Victoria said sharply, her chest tightening.
“What do you mean?” Helena’s gaze rested on Victoria with mischief and concern, the sunlight catching the green flecks of her eyes like sparks.
“Does the baron know this? The Viscount Klein and several dukes are coming just to meet the man who will eventually take over for your father.” She looked away, a playful sigh escaping. “It should be you.”
Victoria’s stomach knotted. “It’s all fine and—” she began, but her words faltered. Talking about her skill in front of anyone but her father felt dangerous, intimate even, and Helena didn’t need to lecture her on the unfairness of the situation. She understood it well enough.
“Just because you’ve got a muff, they think you are incapable of learning?
Well, I’ve seen you in action,” Helena continued, leaning forward slightly, the casual closeness making Victoria’s pulse quicken.
“I watched you with Sophia, whom I know you hate, by the way. Your father would have been so proud of how you handled that.”
“I do not hate Sophia, not in the slightest. I empathize with her greatly. As with any woman, she is in search of immediate relief, desire…validation. Self-preservation.” Victoria closed her eyes briefly, her fingers curling around the intricate wood of her chair.
She pressed against the carved lion’s paw, grounding herself against the ache in her chest, the memories clawing at her from every corner.
The laboratory felt miles away, yet she wished she could go to Innominatus and cry on his chest now as she once did before he came alive.
“She loves Wilhelm, and I cannot fault her for his offenses. It was a horrid situation, all too common. I’m just grateful to be free from it,” Victoria said, tracing between the wooden toes of the lion’s paw as though she could feel the weight of her words in the polished grain.
“Are you free from it? I must admit, I wouldn’t have thought a bear of a man like Wilhelm would have listened to your threats.
I would have bet it only incited worse from him.
” Helena tipped her chin, and the green in her eyes glittered with mischief.
“Though I suppose once a larger threat comes along…” Her voice softened slightly, teasing.
Victoria’s breath hitched slightly, her lips pressing into a small circle. “Innominatus Creatura—”
“How impressive a name. He’s clearly not from around here. Where is he from?” Helena asked, eyes bright with curiosity, leaning just enough that Victoria felt the subtle brush of her sleeve against her arm.
“Russia…and other places, I believe.” Victoria’s forehead was dotted with a sheen of sweat. “I’m not sure when you will meet him. He’s quite busy since my father’s been ill.”
“So, has he brought up marriage?” Helena’s tone was casual, but her eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“What?” Victoria almost dropped from the chair, both hands clutching her head as her heart stuttered.
“Well, yes,” Helena said, as if she couldn’t understand why Victoria’s reaction was so sharp.
“He is working closely with your father, you are adept in the same skill set, and I assume he is residing at the castle. It’s only practical that the two of you would marry.
He’s not married, is he?” Helena gasped, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“The way Wilhelm won’t stop talking about how the man acted toward you, I’d just assumed he was single and highly interested. Was I mistaken?”
“Yes. Very much.” Victoria grabbed a book off the nearby table, fanning herself with it almost absentmindedly. “Could we speak of anything else?”
“You do fancy him. I knew it. Oh, please! You must bring him to the ball so that I may see the two of you dance.”
“No,” Victoria panted, her chest tightening.
Her mind swirled. The thought of bringing him into the glare of the baronial court, the chance to see all those eyes on him, made her pulse race.
And yet, she could not stop imagining him there, poised and flawless, every move calculated to anticipate hers just as when he had assisted her.
Everyone would see that she’d been chosen by someone.
That she wasn’t just the odd, anxious woman they all knew her to be.
She was doted on and loved. Her stomach fluttered with the audacity of her own thoughts.
Helena stood from the bench with a wide, bright smile and collected a nearby book, beginning to fan her friend.
“Yes, you seem quite unaffected by this Mr. Creatura. The baron will be absolutely vile if you do not attend. It’s my understanding he aimed to impress the Viscount Klein with your father’s attendance.
If Mr. Creatura does not attend, I can only imagine the wrath the baron will unleash—you know how little it takes to set the man off.
You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t march the entire party over to the castle. ”
Victoria had begun pacing Helena’s parlor. “The attendance of my father’s assistant cannot be that important to him.”
Helena snorted. “Do you recall the last time? When he used the new priest, the one he’d brought in to benefit his goals, and the priest refused to be a part of it? The baron ended up shutting down the church until he agreed.”
Victoria’s chest filled with cold air. “Then he built him the new, larger church when the priest did what he wanted.” She remembered. It was why her mother was buried in the yard of the abandoned church.
“Exactly. So what are you wearing to the ball with Mr. Creatura?” Helena grinned. “I hope he is a good dancer.”
The last thing Victoria needed was to be on the baron’s bad side. Already, he had shown up and threatened her with imprisonment. Innominatus could behave for an hour…she hoped. She had no other choice.
“I think I should be going home,” Victoria said.
“Oh no! I’ve frightened you off. I take it all back. Stay with me,” Helena begged.
“Do you have any spare fabric? Mr. Creatura is of a rather…rare build and will likely have nothing for the occasion as he traveled so light,” Victoria said, panic lacing her voice.
How was she ever going to sew something for him that would pass a noble’s inspection in time?
She was adept at sewing, but not enough to make something so grand. Where would she find supplies?
“Lucky for you, my brother, the tailor, stayed in this home before me. Let’s go look. It’s a shame you don’t have Mr. Creatura’s measurements. I’m quite quick with a needle.”
Victoria could have cried. “I—I do happen to know his exact measurements.” She had worked on his body for hours a day, for months; she knew every detail of Innominatus inside and out…except for his living personality, the latter more her fault than his.
Helena grinned. “And you expect me to believe you’re not completely in love with him?”
She didn’t expect her friend to believe that, as Victoria wasn’t sure she believed it herself.
Late that night, Victoria returned home. The two women had worked diligently, creating a fitted black coat, waistcoat, and breeches for Innominatus to wear to the ball. Helena had been modest when she said she was quick with a needle. She was as skilled as any tailor Victoria had ever met.
On the ride back to the castle, Victoria’s mind whirled.
What fresh hell had she been placed in that she would have to parade her resurrected experiment to all the surrounding nobles and pass him off as her father’s skilled assistant?
What if he accidentally slipped up and gave them away, or worse, what if someone was awful to them?
She couldn’t ensure he wouldn’t hurt someone—and if he did, it would be her head that fell first. That was if they somehow didn’t notice he was a massive, stitched-together, half-dead experiment.
Victoria held her pounding head in her hand.
She had no choice but to take this risk.
To trust that they would get through this together.
Victoria lit a candle and made her way straight to the laboratory door, the freshly sewn clothes draped over her arm.
When she opened the door and stepped down, her foot landed on something soft.
She let out a small scream and flung herself backward, landing on the sitting room floor as Innominatus rose from the top step where he’d been nestled.
“What are you doing?” Victoria shouted, kicking herself away from the yawning door.
Innominatus remained standing, towering over her. He reached a long arm to help her up but did not leave the step.
In shock, Victoria accepted his hand and let him pull her to her feet. At the touch of his hand, a current of electricity pressed into her skin, and by the look on his face, his too.
“I couldn’t hear you, and—” he began, shaking his head slowly. “I was hungry. You said days ago you would leave my food on the step, and you haven’t.”