"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."
Victoria nodded at her reflection, then rose from the chair. "Time to go down to dinner, then. Perhaps I'll have a bit of gaiety before duty beckons me back to London."
"I'm hoping you do, my lady. Ye deserve it."
Victoria left her room on the second floor and made her way down to the drawing room, where the rest of the guests would gather before going in to dinner. She'd arrived only two hours earlier, and thus had had a short visit with Gwendolyn, and then had repaired to her room to change for dinner.
Now she walked into the large drawing room and found that several of the eleven who would be dining had already gathered. Three gentlemen stood near one side of the room, and appeared to be holding hostage a bottle of some golden liquid. One of them Victoria recognized as Gwendolyn's father, Viscount Claythorne. He was speaking with Baron Front worthy, Gwendolyn's most ardent suitor.
"Victoria! You look lovely." Her friend rose and came to her side immediately. She was accompanied by an older, elegant woman. "May I make my aunt, Mrs. Manley, known to you, Lady Rockley."
Victoria curtsied and complimented the woman on her gown.
"Good evening, Lady Rockley."
Victoria turned at George Starcasset's voice. He bowed over her proffered hand, and she made a brief curtsy. "Good evening, Mr. Starcasset. I must thank you again for making me one of your party."
"Gwendolyn and I are so very pleased to have you with us." He smiled and tucked her hand over his arm. "May I provide you with a sherry?"
"Indeed, that would be lovely." Victoria cast a smile over her shoulder at Gwendolyn, who appeared to be not at all surprised at her brother's attentions. In fact, her friend's twinkling eyes told her that she was quite pleased with the situation.
"The others shall be joining us shortly. Mr. Berkley and his sister Miss Berkley, you might perhaps know, along with Mr. Vandecourt. And our other guest," Starcasset told her as he presented her with a tulip-shaped glass, "I am certain you will be quite pleased to meet. He is rather a celebrity."
"A celebrity?" Victoria sipped the sweet sherry, looking up at Gwendolyn's brother with her head tilted gently to the side. How wonderful it felt to be thinking, not of vampires and stakes, not of losses and grief, but of the handsome gentleman who stood before her.
"Indeed. Dr. John Polidori, the author."
Victoria blinked. No, apparently even here she could not get away from vampires.
Mr. Starcasset took her expression for confusion, and explained, "He wrote the book The Vampyre. It was published in New Monthly under Lord Byron's name, but just recently it became known that Polidori is the true author. Though it is said that he based the vampire character of Lord Ruthven on Byron himself!"
"Indeed," Victoria murmured. It would be interesting to converse with Dr. Polidori. She wondered if he'd ever met a vampire. Quite unlikely, for he wouldn't be writing romantic novels about it if he had.
"Dr. Polidori and Mr. Vioget arrived only some minutes ago, and they hastened to change for dinner. We will wait for their arrival before going in to supper. Lady Rockley, is something the matter?"
"Dr. Polidori is not traveling alone?" Victoria managed to make her voice casual, but what should have been a small sip of sherry turned into a rather large gulp and set her to suppressing a rough cough.
"He travels with his friend Mr. Sebastian Vioget, whom he met, I believe, while lately in Italy with Byron."
"Italy? I see." So it was Sebastian, and he was here. With the author of a book about vampires. How very unexpected.
Victoria finished her sherry. The last time she'd seen Sebastian, she'd left him in his carriage after a most intimate interlude—which ended quite abruptly as he delivered her to a group of vampires out for her blood.
He'd had her half-undressed in that carriage, and lazy with desire, as she recalled, her face warming. He'd been delighted to learn that she'd broken her engagement with Phillip, and had attempted to take full advantage of her newly unbetrothed status… until she sensed the presence of vampires.