"I see. There does not seem to appear a need to explain what, or should I say who, has kept you occupied."
Jocelyn sensed Lucien stiffen. Slowly he leaned forward to stab the nobleman with a dagger glare. "Take care, my lord, I have little patience for fools."
There was no missing the stark warning in his voice, and an ugly color suddenly stained Lord Patten's narrow face.
"Indeed? And who might you be?"
"Mr. Valin and a friend to Miss Kingly."
"Valin?" The dandy frowned as he attempted to place the name. Suddenly a rather sickly recognition rippled over the thin features. "Are you related to Mr. Ravel?"
"A cousin," Lucien readily admitted, seeming to take pleasure in the obvious unease at the mention of his relative. Jocelyn could only presume that Mr. Ravel possessed a powerful position among society.
"Oh." There was an awkward pause as Lord Patten sought to disguise his sudden embarrassment At last he turned toward Jocelyn with a strained smile. "Are you staying with your parents?"
A sharp pang tore through her at the offhand words, but thankfully she managed to appear utterly indifferent.
"No."
"Then with a friend?"
"I now possess my own establishment," she retorted in clipped tones.
A genuine flare of shock widened the dark eyes at her abrupt announcement. Young maidens of breeding simply did not possess their own establishment. It was nearly as scandalous as being caught in a grotto, being seduced by a known rake.
"Your own establishment?"
"Yes. And I must be returning home. Please excuse us."
"Wait. Surely I shall see you about town?"
"Highly doubtful."
"But..."
"Good day, my lord."
Thankfully sensing her fierce need to be away from the man who had created such pain in her past, Lucien firmly set the horses in motion, nearly running down the dandy who was foolish enough to attempt to delay their departure.
Jocelyn did not even glance backward as they bowled down the street and turned toward the less respectable area of town. Instead, she determinedly sought to battle back the horrid memories that threatened to sweep over her.
It was the past. She had survived and even made a comfortable life for herself. There was no point in dwelling upon what could not be changed.
They traveled in silence for some time before Lucien at last slowed the pace of the horses and slanted a searching gaze over her taut profile.
"An old friend of yours, I presume?"
Friend? She smothered a bitter laugh. Lord Patten would be the last person she would ever choose as a friend.
"An acquaintance," she retorted stiffly.
"Oh, no, there is more than that between the two of you."
She sternly kept her gaze trained upon the shabby houses that now lined the narrow street.
"I do not wish to discuss Lord Patten."
"He is the one who hurt you," he said softly.
Her hands clenched upon her lap. She never wished to discuss the scandal that had ruined her life. Not with anyone. But she especially did not wish to discuss it with this gentleman.
It was all too sordid. Too demeaning. She did not wish to see the tender concern that glowed within those eyes diminish to scorn.
"He was a part of the scandal," she grudgingly conceded.
"And he refused to stand by your side when the situation became messy?"
Her lips twisted with a remembered pain. "Everyone refused to stand by my side. Everyone but Meg."
There was a short pause. "Not even your parents?"
Her nails bit into her palms until she drew blood. "Lucien, I said I do not wish to discuss this."
Without warning he reached out to run his fingers over her cheek in a familiar caress, then with the understanding compassion that could undermine the staunchest of defenses, he gave a slow nod of his head.
"As you wish."
Several hours later Lucien silently slid toward the abandoned warehouse. It had not been a simple decision to leave Jocelyn on her own. Not only did the ever-dangerous Amadeus and his deadly henchmen concern him, he also realized that she was still upset by their brief encounter with Lord Patten. Upset enough to have spent the entire evening in her room, refusing even to come down for dinner.
His features unconsciously hardened at the memory of the foppish nobleman. A desire to track the arrogant pup down and teach him an unforgettable lesson in wounding an innocent maiden was nearly unbearable. He did not doubt it would take only a few moments to make the man sorry he had ever dared to hurt Jocelyn.
Unfortunately he realized that while he might feel better after a midnight confrontation to the dandy, it would do nothing to heal Jocelyn's wounds.
Revenge could not undo the past.
Besides which, he had forced himself to leave the maiden alone so that he could attempt to discover some means of luring Amadeus back to the Veil. It was, after all, the true reason he had been sent to London. He could not waste his precious time upon a spineless worm.
Even if his hands did itch to be around the man's scrawny neck.
Lucien gave a rueful shake of his head. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Not when he was tracking a desperate vampire. If he did not begin concentrating upon his task at hand, he might discover himself blundering into a very nasty surprise.
Sinking even deeper into the shadows, he soundlessly approached the door, coming to an abrupt halt when it swung open without warning and a tiny form stepped into the street to regard him with large eyes.
With his vision he could clearly make out the features of the small child that had so trustingly sought him out the first night he had visited the warehouse. A frown marred his brow as he moved to crouch beside her.
"What are you doing out here, my dear?" he murmured softly enough that he would not startle her.
Astonishingly she reached out to place her small hand against his cheek.
"I knew you were coming."
Lucien regarded her in bemusement. There had always been those special humans able to sense the presence of vampires. Perhaps this child had been born with the gift. If so, it could prove to be a genuine blessing.
"Did you? What a clever minx you are." He carefully watched the tiny countenance. "Has anyone else been near?"
She gave a firm shake of her head. "No, the bad man went away."
"The vicar?"
"Yes."
He let out a slow breath. She did indeed have the gift.
"I want you to listen carefully to me. If the bad man returns, I want you to slip out of the warehouse and hide. Can you do that?" Lucien waited until she gave a nod of agreement. "Good girl. And I want you to warn the other children. The bad man is very dangerous."
The eyes that appeared far too old and wise for such a young child regarded him steadily.
"Will you come back?"
"Yes, I will be back," he promised with a smile.
"I am glad. You are a nice man."
Lucien could not prevent a small chuckle. "And you are a minx." He leaned down to brush a kiss over the tip of her nose. "Now go back inside."
"Good night."
"Good night, my dear."
Lucien waited until the girl had scurried back inside the warehouse before he rose to his feet.
He could only hope the child recalled his warning if Amadeus did return. Although the traitor had no reason to harm the poor children, there was no use in taking any chances.
Once assured she was safely inside, Lucien continued past the warehouse and toward the narrow, broken streets beyond. It was destined to be a long night, he acknowledged ruefully.
Although he suspected that Amadeus must have his lair somewhere in the labyrinth of destitute buildings, there was only one means of locating him. He would have to explore the entire rookery block by miserable block. Not a pleasant prospect considering the foul odors and filth that was already ruining his glossy boots.
Eventually he would draw close enough to sense the presence of the vampire, he thought in an attempt to ease his smoldering impatience.
And then...
Well, he had to admit he was not entirely certain what he would do beyond attempting to frighten some sense into the traitor.
He would simply have to face that difficulty when it arrived. First he had to find Amadeus.
Seven
Jocelyn was floating in that peculiar world between wake and sleep when the shadowy form appeared beside her bed. Oddly she felt no fear as she sat upright to regard the apparition. Not even when a soft glow of illumination suddenly flared about the intruder.
Instead, her eyes widened in bemused wonder.
"Molly," she whispered softly, easily recognizing the freckled countenance and reddish curls.
"Thank goodness I have found you, Miss Kingly," the young maiden said, her expression filled with fear.
A cautious voice in the back of Jocelyn's mind warned her that something was wrong. It whispered that there was something that she should remember about Molly.
But cloudy confusion seemed to fill her thoughts, and it was impossible to think clearly.
"What are you doing here?" she asked instead.
The girl pressed her hands to her bosom as she leaned over the bed. "I need you."