Rises The Night

She turned to climb into the offered carriage and, in doing so, brushed against Starcasset.

"What is that you are holding?" he asked, reaching for the hand that still held her stake.

Victoria slid it back under her coat before he could grasp it. "A stick."

"I am certainly glad that I came upon you when I did, madam, for I fear that stick would not have served you well in your defense against those thugs." The carriage jolted as he climbed in after her.

"Indeed." Victoria kept her response to a murmur and, shifting in her seat, slipped the stake into its pocket on the inside of her coat.

The carriage rumbled off, taking Victoria away in a much smoother, more sedate manner than she'd arrived in St. Giles. She and Starcasset sat in silence for a turn, Victoria mulling over the presence of another vampire that seemed to have run away from her… or, the thought struck her, perhaps it had wished for her to follow it.

"Lady Rockley, if I may be permitted to ask, how have you been faring these last months? Gwendolyn tells me you are still receiving only a very few visitors. I think of you often."

"Thank you, Mr. Starcasset. Your sentiments are much appreciated. And as to how I have fared… it has been a long year, but I am of the hope and belief that the worst is over. I told your sister only last week that I am preparing to make a full return to Society."

In the low lantern light that bobbed in rhythm with the cobbled bricks below, his smile was exceedingly warm.. "May I say that I am very pleased to hear this. And I know that Gwendolyn has missed your presence quite abominably at the functions this Season. But now that it is drawing to a close, I am sure you know we are preparing to repair to Claythorne. And if I may not be considered too forward, I do believe it would be a great delight to my sister should you attend us there."

"Indeed. How very kind of you, Mr. Starcasset." Victoria found herself wanting to blush under his warm stare, which made it all too clear that he would be the one most delighted with her presence. "Gwendolyn did speak to me of it."

"We were just talking Wednesday last in regards to our house party, which we make on an annual basis, as a celebration of the beginning of grouse season. Of course, last year you would have been invited, but… oh, forgive me, madam. It was not the best of times for you." He brushed off the lapels of his coat in a rather nervous gesture. "Gwendolyn was musing aloud as to whether you would be able to attend this year. And how felicitous that I should have the opportunity to reiterate the invitation in person!"

Victoria forbore to point out that felicity had played little role in their meeting on the dark, dank streets of St. Giles. Danger and happenstance, perhaps… but not felicity. "I am most honored and have already decided to accept the invitation," she replied. It was time that she at least shed the black clothing she'd been wearing. Of course, she would never be able to wholly embrace the dances and the fetes and the fashions and the teas that were part of Society as fully as she had done before… but perhaps she could find some sort of balance betwixt her two lives.

Or perhaps she would be destined to the loneliness of walking the streets at midnight, instead of riding home with a handsome beau after a long night of dancing.

"I will be delighted to join you at Claythorne," she added with real pleasure.

"Splendid! I shall tell her tomorrow that you have accepted, although"—he coughed genteelly—"I shall not divulge to her the exact circumstances as to how we have met up." His lips stretched in a jovial grin.

"Indeed. I would and do appreciate your reticence in that matter." Victoria smiled back at him, realizing that his grin was so very pleasant as to make anyone want to join him in his humor. She hoped that he would honor his statement and not share with Gwendolyn or any other person of their Society the fact that he had found her walking alone on the streets at night. Although she supposed if he did, few would believe him.

As she settled back in the carriage, it occurred to her to wonder, then, just exactly what had taken the Viscount Claythorne's heir himself to those same dangerous streets during the same dark night.

Chapter 4

In Which Verbena Has Her Way

" 'Tis long past time to see ye in a color other than black." Verbena clucked as she tied Victoria's stays. "Ye cudda gone to half mournin' six months ago and been wearin' that pretty pearl gray. Even when ever'one was mournin' for Princess Charlotte, God rest her soul, they went to grays after six months. But no, no, you woulden and can't say't I blame ye, what with losin' the marquess so horribly, but my lady, yer skin's been missin' the pretty colors like yeller an' that peach. It's right to be liven your cheeks up a bit."Victoria knew better than to attempt a word when her maid was in lecture mode. Likely Verbena had been saving it up the last nine or ten months and wouldn't be dissuaded from saying her piece regardless of what her mistress might wish to interject.

"All I can say is, I'm glad I talked ye into leaving all them black and gray gowns back at home. This is a house party, and ye should have fun. Ye deserve it, my lady. Ye deserve it." Her impossibly hued orange hair was gathered into two springy bunches, one below each ear, and stuck out like fistfuls of stiff netting.

Their eyes met in the mirror, one pair a sparkling, good-humored blue, the other thick lashed, almond shaped, and serious. "But I'm glad't'see," Verbena added more gently, "that ye didn't leave off your vis bulla. What would we do wit'out ye, and the other Venators?"

Verbena, whose cousin was Barth the hackney driver, had recognized Victoria's vampire-hunting amulet immediately after she'd begun wearing it more than a year ago. How she knew of vampires and Venators when the rest of London was blissfully ignorant, Victoria was uncertain; but it was a relief that her maid, who also inexplicably knew how to treat vampire bites and was not frightened of visiting places like the Silver Chalice, was aware of her secret. Having one's maid in on the most intimate details of one's life, especially when it involved much sneaking around and wearing clothing belonging to the opposite gender, was a great serendipity.

Victoria shook her head, drawing in a breath that was more restricted now that she'd been laced into her stays. "I feel better when I am wearing the vis; that is certain. Though I don't expect to have need of it whilst here at Claythorne. To be sure, I would not have agreed to leave London had Aunt Eustacia not assured me she would send for me were there any threats to be contained. I've seen only one vampire, other than the one I killed, and found no sign of any others since that night I met Mr. Starcasset."

"Yer Aunt Eustacia is one smart lady," Verbena said, digging carefully through the pile of gowns so as not to muss them. "Though that butler of hers, Charley… he sure does know how to keep his mouth shut. Can't say I haven't tried to get'm to talk to me about the goin's-on there, but his lips are's tight as a clam's. And that friend o' hers, Mr. Maximilian Pesaro. He's a right fascinatin' Jemmy, too, if I do say. Frightenin'ly handsome, in a bold sort of way." She shivered. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he was a vampire; he's got the elegant, dangerous look o'one."

"You aren't the first to think that of him," Victoria replied dryly. She stood, pushing away from the bleached-wood dressing table, and turned to what was sure to be the difficult task of refusing to let Verbena dress her in bold carmine or bright jonquil for her first dinner at Claythorne. "He is a formidable Venator; that one thing is certain. I can't say that I understand why he left so quickly after Phillip died, but my aunt says he was needed in Rome. Though it wasn't as if he were needed here. I think I shall wear the navy gown tonight, Verbena."

"Wavy? My lady, that's near's bad as the black! Wouldn't this lovely mulberry color be more fittin'? See how't brings out that dusky sort o' rose color in yer cheeks? And next to yer black curls? An' it makes yer lashes look darker'n a boar's-bristle brush." She thrust the preferred gown in front of her mistress. "Well, that Mr. Pesaro cert'nly helped ye last summer, when ye were tryin' to keep Lilith from gettin' th' special book she wanted. Maybe he'd decided he'd stayed too long here and needed to get home."

"Perhaps," Victoria commented, rather wondering what it would be like the first time she saw Max again. She felt that the animosity that had simmered beneath their politeness and forced proximity might have eased quite a bit, after all that had occurred, even though she was still annoyed that he'd left London so suddenly.

After all, she'd seen the impressive Max brought under the control and thrall of Lilith, showing a weakness she never would have attributed to him… and he had seen Victoria learn how to fight like a Venator and grow from an average debutante into a fierce, brave vampire hunter.

The gown of Verbena's choice was fluttering down over Victoria's shoulders before she realized the moment to stop it had passed. "Not the mulberry!" she exclaimed in vain. " 'Tis too bright!"

But the gown was on, and swiftly being buttoned up the back as Victoria looked at herself in the mirror. She did look well in the gown. Heavens, it had been more than a year since she'd been dressed so, and Verbena was right: it did bring out the faintest pink in her cheeks. She bit her lips, bottom, then top, and they plumped and reddened as though they'd been kissed.

"Very nice, my lady," Verbena told her, making a narrow braid from one long curl at the top of her crown. "Ye have nothing to feel guilty fer, now. You've mourned your husband fully and completely, and whilst ye'll never stop loving him, ye must remember: You're still here, and ye still have a life to live." She finished the braid and wound it around the rest of Victoria's hair, piled at the back of her head.

"Yes, a life. And a duty." Her green-brown eyes glittered above her flushed cheeks.

Verbena's blue eyes met her gaze again. "A duty you are well suited for." She slipped the last pin into her hair and smiled with satisfaction. "But it don't mean ye have to be a nun." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">