"Victoria is to marry Rockley?" Petronilla exclaimed at the precise moment the duchess squealed. "Get out of my way, Winnie, so I can hug her too!"
The ladies danced around the room, the china and knickknacks clinking in their wake.
"He came just shortly ago to get my blessing—as if he needed to ask!" Melly, out of breath, huffed as she sank into a chair.
Winnie, who had snatched up two blueberry scones, did not pause in her enthusiastic prancing until she'd poured tea for the newest arrival. Then she plunked down next to her.
"We shall have to begin planning the wedding immediately. It will be the event of the Season!" Petronilla said. "But do tell, did Victoria have any details about the incident at the Madagascar ball last night? It is the talk of the town!"
Winnie slammed a hand to her chest, closing her fingers around the crucifix that rested on the shelf of her bosom. If possible, it was an even bigger cross than the one she'd been wearing last week. "Nilly was just telling me about it. I'm certain it was a vampire attack!"
Melly looked at them. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"Miss Emily Colton was attacked last night, in the gardens at the Madagascars' house. She was not hurt, but frightened, and her escort, Lord Truscott, has disappeared," Winnie explained.
"Why do you think it was a vampire attack?" Melly said, rolling her eyes. "Lord Truscott likely got too familiar with Miss Colton and she sent him on his way… and did not want to confess that she'd been walking in the garden alone with him. Miss Colton has been known to be a bit loose, you know."
"But no one knows where he is," said Winnie. "And it was in the dark. And her neck was scratched."
"Perhaps Lord Truscott is a vampire," said Petronilla. Her eyes gleamed like sapphires. "Perhaps he was overcome by lust and could not resist any longer, and tried to seduce Miss Colton in the gardens…"
"What nonsense! Nilly, Winnie, I declare, if you would rather go on about vampires instead of helping me to plan Victoria's wedding, then I will leave you two to it!"
"No, Melly, we'll stop. I don't want to talk about them anyway," Winnie said, shooting a look at Petronilla. "There's nothing about them that fascinates me on any level. They are evil bloodsucking creatures, dirty and smelly with claws and long hair—"
"They are not! Mrs. Lawson's daughter's neighbor's sister was the one who had one in her bedchamber, and she said he smelled like licorice and that he was cleanshaven and—"
"I thought you did not want to talk about them!" Melly interrupted, standing. "I am going to leave if either one of you mentions the word vampire again."
Winnie clamped her mouth shut. Petronilla raised her teacup to her lips and sipped, gazing innocently out the window.
"Now," Melisande said, settling back into her chair, "which modiste should we have make the dress?"
"Victoria always looks well with Madame LeClaire's designs," replied Petronilla.
"I was not talking about Victoria's gown! I meant my dress!" said Melly indignantly.
"Well, in that case, I suggest we take ourselves out of here and down to Bond Street for a shopping excursion!" said Winnie.
And they very happily did just that, with Winnie clutching her crucifix the whole way.
The sun was lowering when Victoria climbed out of Barth's hackney only a short distance from the home of Rudolph Caulfleld, the man who owned the Book of Antwartha. Sebastian had clearly indicated that the vampires acting on Lilith's behalf were to arrive at night, but Victoria was taking no chances that they might come and go before she got there.
Verbena had helped her to dress, not as a man this night, nor as a debutante, but as a Venator, in a costume the maid had specially prepared. It consisted of a split skirt that appeared no different from any other day dress, but which would allow her more freedom of movement. The sleeves were firmly anchored to the shoulders of the dress's bodice, unlike the filmy, frothy ones that were often barely basted onto normal evening apparel. The cloth was dark blue, with very little ornamentation, and of a soft cotton, so there would be no rustling noises of taffeta or charmeuse. Its length was a bit shorter than what Victoria was used to wearing, several inches from the ground.
The most unique aspects of the costume were two small slipknots into which Victoria could slide stakes to hang at her waist, and two deep pockets hidden in the folds of the skirt, where she might put salted holy water, a crucifix, and other accoutrements.
When Victoria slipped out of the hackney, she left her cloak behind; it was a balmy summer evening, and the excitement of the adventure would keep her warm. Barth was given his instructions, and she turned from the coach.
Earlier in the day she and Verbena had traveled to Caulfield's home, known as Redfield Manor, in order to ascertain its location, its geography, and an appropriate place where Victoria might wait and watch without being noticed.
Verbena, quite into the spirit of things after her evening drinking ale with vampires at the Silver Chalice, approached the servants' door in an attempt to learn what she could about the household schedule and layout. Victoria wasn't sure how she managed to extract the information, but she learned that the servants were leaving with Rudolph Caulfield that afternoon, and that the gentleman coming to stay at the home would be bringing his own retinue.
And, as Victoria slipped behind a tall iron gate, she was grateful that Verbena had also learned that the garden was very rarely used… and thus would be the perfect place to wait.
Finding a stone bench thrust under a small tree that had refused to sprout buds that spring, Victoria sat and slid to the edge so she could watch the house. From this vantage point she could see anyone approaching the front door. She assumed that Mr. Caulfield and his servants had left and been replaced by his houseguest during the afternoon.
As she sat, trying to ignore a persistent bee that was determined to find nectar in the vicinity of the dead tree, Victoria felt a stab of guilt. She had argued long and hard with herself and with Verbena about whether to tell Aunt Eustacia and Max about her plans for the evening… but in the end she had decided not to. She could take care of herself—Kritanu had trained her well. She knew what she was doing.
So she'd decided to do this alone, for several perfectly logical reasons.
First, if Sebastian's information was wrong, she would feel foolish having dragged Max to the site of Redfield Manor; for it was certain he would have been the one to accompany her, not Aunt Eustacia.
Not to mention the fact that she would have to be in his company the entire evening.
Second, Victoria was certain she would be able to handle two or three vampires alone—particularly since the element of surprise would be in her favor. She could determine when and how to strike.
Third, she had braved the dangers of the Silver Chalice on her own to get the information, and Sebastian had warned her not to tell anyone. If she had told Aunt Eustacia and Max, they would have demanded that she divulge her source. Once she had the Book of Antwartha in her possession, no one would care how she got the information.
And fourth… Max and Aunt Eustacia all seemed to be willing to keep their own secrets from her. So why should she not act on her own if they were not going to include her in all of their plans? After all, she was a vis bullaed Venator, and she had staked a Guardian vampire whilst he was biting her.
Never mind Verbena's clicking tongue or wagging chin. Victoria was comfortable with her decision.
So she waited and turned her thoughts toward more pleasant items, such as the passionate kisses she and Phillip had exchanged on the terrace, and in the carriage, and on the front doorstep of Grantworth House. She was to be married! She could scarcely believe it had happened so quickly, so easily and wonderfully. She'd always thought fondly of the young man she'd met that summer; perhaps even then she'd given him her heart. Whatever had happened then, whether she had felt love for him or not, did not matter, for she loved him now.