"I cannot." She drew in a long, hitching breath. "I cannot tell you, Phillip, but I swear it is nothing you can change. Even if you had all the money in the world, and you reigned over this land, you could not change this."
He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes darting from side to side as if to get a better view inside her own gaze. The whites of his eyes were pink, cracked with red. "You must tell me."
"I cannot."
"Last night I came after you. I know it was you, despite the arguments your cousin made. At first I was afraid you were meeting a lover, and I followed you… because I had to know. I had to know if your heart was given to another. I thought even then that if it were, if I just knew it for certain, I would still want to marry you. I would find a way to drive him from your mind.
"But when your hackney—my God, Victoria, don't you know how dangerous it is to use a hackney?—stopped in St. Giles, I didn't know what to think. You wouldn't meet a lover there, no matter who he was. I saw you get out of the hackney and go through a door into one of the most dangerous-looking places I've ever seen. I would not have gone there if I hadn't known I must protect you. I had to use my pistol to convince some of the street men to let me by.
"Your cousin saved my life. I am not sure what happened; it is all quite a muddle in my mind. I just know I left to look for you, and then I woke up at home. How I got there is very unclear. I dreamed about red eyes…
"You see, my darling, I don't understand what happened last night, but I did not come here with accusations or preconceived notions. There is nothing you can tell me that would change the way I feel about you. Please."
She could give him something; maybe it would help him to understand. "Do you believe in destiny?"
He nodded, a bare hint of relief tangible in his face. "Of course. It was destiny that first brought us together years ago."
"Destiny is unchangeable. It's indelible, written in stone. Power and money and resources cannot change it, Phillip. You cannot alter it. And that is why I cannot tell you, no matter how much you beg, what I was doing in St. Giles last night. Because that is my destiny." A destiny he could not accept—a wife who killed, a world of evil and darkness. Phillip was too much in the light… she couldn't destroy his world.
"Victoria!"
She was shaking her head. "I love you, Phillip. But I cannot."
He looked stricken. "Victoria, with all that I am, I ask you to please tell me. I will not be angry, no matter what it is. But I cannot have this between us if we are to marry."
Now. Her hands frozen under the warmth of the blankets, she drew in her breath and closed her eyes. She would not look at him whilst she said it. "Then perhaps we should not marry."
He was still, so still. Even his breath stopped; she could hear nothing in the darkness of her closed eyes but the faint voices from belowstairs. And the rapid, painful thudding of her heart.
"Victoria." The anguish in his voice opened her eyes. Phillip was not looking at her; he looked out the window at the sunshine pouring on the rooftop of a nearby garret. A blue jay, with its unpleasant squawking song, fluttered to a stop on a nearby tree limb.
"I'm sorry, Phillip."
He stood abruptly, spinning away from the bed, stalking to the door. She watched him through pooling eyes, and he paused at the threshold. "If you change your mind…" He spoke to the door.
"I can't." She forced the words from her throat. She wanted to call him back.
Phillip didn't look at her; he went through the door, closing it with a soft finality behind him.
Victoria didn't understand. She would have slammed it.
Chapter Eighteen
Interlude in a Carriage
Victoria sent a note to Madame LeClaire, canceling her fitting due to illness. The word would be out soon enough, she knew, that the engagement of the Marquess of Rockley had been broken. It would be in the paper within days—either the Society tattletale section, or the announcements; it depended who got the news first.
She didn't have the heart to tell her mother. Not yet. Perhaps in a day or so, when the pain wasn't so raw. Lady Melly was so happy to be bringing a marquess into the family, Victoria didn't have the heart to tell her she'd called it off.
Verbena tsked over her red eyes, but said nothing save, "I'm so sorry, miss. It's not the same, but I felt pretty bad when I lost my Jassie to another woman. Leastwise you know it ain't that."
If that item was supposed to make her feel better, it didn't. Victoria only sent Verbena from her room and stared out the window, watching the screeching blue jay as it visited the tree.
She begged off from attending a dinner party that night; instead, as soon as her mother left to trade gossip and jokes with the other ton ladies, Victoria slipped out of the house from the back door. She was dressed in her split-skirt gown, specially made for hunting vampires.
That night she tracked and staked five undead.
The next night, three more.
The third night she only found one. It felt bloody good when she drove that stake into the vampire's chest.
But it wasn't enough, so she wandered the streets near Covent Garden and allowed herself to be accosted by several mortal criminals. After showing them her pistol and the expertise with which she could kick and punch, Victoria ran them off into the darkness and felt a bit more satisfied.
She didn't return to Grantworth House until after dawn. Then she fell into bed and slept restlessly.
When Aunt Eustacia sent a summons on the fourth day after Phillip burst into Victoria's bedchamber, she considered ignoring it. She didn't feel the need to meet with her aunt or Max, who would certainly be there. She was doing her job hunting and killing the undead; they'd retrieved the Book of Antwartha, which she had hidden at the chapel at St. Heath's Row before she and Rockley broke things off.
What could her aunt want to meet about?
Her decision was made when Lady Melly poked her head in her bedroom. "I'm attending tea at Winnie's; she and Petronilla were hoping you'd come too so we could discuss seating arrangements for the wedding. I haven't seen Rockley for a few days, Victoria. Is he ill?"
Apparently her mother didn't see the red rims of her own daughter's eyes, nor the black circles underscoring them. "Not that I know of. He's been very busy. And, unfortunately, I promised Aunt Eustacia I would visit today. It's been nearly a week."
She really did have to tell her mother.
Every day she didn't, she risked its appearing in the papers before Lady Melly knew. It wasn't fair to her mother that she might be blindsided. The Society ladies would have a field day at her expense if that happened.
"Mother, I have to tell you something. Rockley and I had an argument. We…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the stricken look on Lady Melly's face.
"Well, surely you can mend the fence, Victoria! You cannot ruin your future over one small argument!"
One small argument.
"I wanted you to know in the event that you heard any rumors," she added lamely. Blast. She could single-handedly take down three vampires; why couldn't she tell her mother the truth?
"Well, I expect you to speak with him at the Mullingtons' ball next week and fix things! No excuses, Victoria. It's the duke's fiftieth birthday; everyone will be there. Including you."
Victoria nodded. She had no choice, and Phillip possibly wouldn't attend anyway. He hated those affairs. And if there was even a hint of a rumor that he was eligible once again… well, he would be cornered before he took three steps into the room.
"Now, I will see you tonight. We leave at seven thirty. Be ready. And put something over those black circles under your eyes, Victoria. You look horridly exhausted."