“Pesaro. Such an unexpected pleasure,” Sebastian said as he drew near.
Max sensed an air of frustration about Vioget and saw no reason to let it pass. “It’s rather early to be ending the evening, isn’t it? I thought you’d be engaged much longer.” He scanned the other man’s well-tailored coat and the white shirt that, though still tied at the throat, was missing a neck cloth.
Vioget’s eyes narrowed, but then he smiled coolly. “If it’s Victoria for whom you’re concerned, allow me to assure you that she’s happily ensconced in her bedchamber. With a smile on her face.”
“With the painting of Circe and Odysseus in full view.” He assumed the picture in its heavy gold frame hadn’t been moved. “Not the finest rendition, but an acceptable one nevertheless.”
Vioget’s expression darkened, validating Max’s assumption, but then his features rearranged into another smile, laced with contempt. “Does Victoria know that you’ve been skulking around London, unwilling to show your face?”
“There’s no reason-”
“I disagree. She should know you’re here, so that arrangements can be made to see to your protection. I’ll be certain to advise her of your presence.” Vioget fairly oozed condescension and confidence and Max felt a sharp pain shoot along his jaw as he ground his teeth. “I’m certain she’ll want to see for herself that you’re safe, particularly in light of poor Briyani’s fate.”
“It would delight you no end, wouldn’t it?” Max was under no illusion. Vioget knew that he would show to his best advantage next to a weakened, vis bulla-less Max, who had been reduced to living on the run. Merely a man.
The other man’s reply was nothing more than a bland smile.
Six:
A Crowded Parlor
Victoria knew it would only be a matter of time before the news of James’s arrival spread. But even she didn’t account for the efficiency of the gossip trail spread by the house servants-as evidenced by the presentation of Lady Melly in St. Heath’s Row’s parlor scarcely past noon the next day.
She wasn’t alone. She’d brought reinforcements in the form of Ladies Nilly and Winnie… and a bulging portmanteau.
“Hello Mother,” Victoria greeted her, trying to sound more glad than she felt. “I thought you were going to the race today with Lord Jellington.” Lady Melly’s beau had nearly lost his position when she was in Rome, being wooed by a handsome vampire. A vampire who’d turned out to be Sara Regalado’s father.
“I thought it would be best if I-we,” she added, gesturing to Nilly and Winnie as if their presence might protect her from Victoria’s annoyance, “paid a call to determine whether you’d recovered from your fright yesterday.”
“Indeed,” squeaked Lady Nilly, her pale, slender hands fluttering at her throat. “I cannot even imagine how you must have felt after seeing that poor girl! Why, I’m sure I’d not sleep for a week, for fear of the nightmares.”
“Ah, nightmares,” inserted Lady Winnie in a rather carrying voice. Her hand hovered over the plate of cinnamon-iced almond biscuits that had been summoned at the instant of their arrival-despite the fact that they were three hours early for afternoon calls. “I know all about them, I do. Why, I daresay, that visit to Rome put me in a state, for I’ve nary slept a wink since the trip. I spend all night tossing and turning, dreaming about vampires and other horrific things.” She paused in her search for the perfect biscuit-namely, the largest and with the thickest swirl of icing-to pat her hand over the saucer-sized silver and gold cross she wore pinned to the side of her bodice. Its weight caused the blue floral muslin to sag slightly, pulling the scoop neckline off center just a bit.
“Vampires!” Nilly had no compunction about her selection. She slipped right in and swiped a most promising treat right from under the duchess’s poised hand. “I declare, I’m certain we must have talked about this before and you’re quite mistaken, Winnie. I’m the one who has been dreaming about vampires ever since Rome! You’ve only started since I told you about my dreams-the dark, cunning men, swooping down in dark halls, cornering me-”
Victoria found it necessary to interrupt and, from long experience, knew that the best tactic was to completely change the subject. “Mother, I’m feeling quite well today, after all. Thank you for your concern. I truly do appreciate it.” She tried not to glance at the portmanteau. Perhaps if she didn’t see it, it would leave with her mother without fuss.
Lady Melly leaned forward and patted her daughter’s ungloved hand. “I’m delighted to hear it! Now, of course, since you’ve recovered, you’ll be able to attend the Twisdale’s garden party tonight with me. I’ll call Melvindale in-she’s waiting in the carriage with my trunks-and she’ll-”
“Your trunks?” Victoria was aware that the pitch of her voice was sharp as a roof’s peak, but she didn’t care. Her control of the situation-along with the almond biscuits- was rapidly disappearing.
“Of course, my dear. You simply cannot go on as you have, even though you are a widow. One night is fine, especially if no one knows about it-which is possible, since I came as soon as I heard-”
“Mother. Thank you.” Victoria struggled to keep her composure in the face of the runaway curricle that was her maternal parent. “I don’t need a chaperone. I-”
“Oh, but Victoria, of course you do! You still must protect your reputation if you want to marry again,” said Lady Nilly, spraying almond crumbs with abandon.
“Perhaps you might even catch the eye of one of the most eligible bachelors to grace our Society,” added Lady Winnie with a familiar gleam in her eyes. “After all, you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting him, and it would be so much simpler-”
Whatever Victoria might have said to puncture the duchess’s-and, clearly, Lady Melly’s-outlandish hopes was forever lost as the tall white doors to the parlor opened.
“The Marquess of Rockley,” intoned Lettender.
As one, the three older ladies surged to their feet and turned toward the new arrival. Victoria steadied the tea table, then turned to greet James.
He looked rough and windblown this morning, just as unkempt as he’d done yesterday with the exception of his clothing. Apparently the staff had seen to more than just gossip, for he was dressed from head to toe as befit his station.
Victoria refused to let herself look too closely, for fear that she might recognize some of the clothing as Phillip’s… and it was just better not to. She still had his cloak and one of his tall hats stuffed in the back of her wardrobe, and she often used them when she went out at night dressed as a man. She fancied they still carried the scent of his lemon-rosemary pomade.
By the time Victoria rejoined the conversation, James and his American drawl had been fussed over by the three ladies, and he was on the sofa between Ladies Winnie and Melly. In other words, exactly where they wanted him.
“So you see, my lord,” Lady Melly was saying, “we certainly will take advantage of your hospitality while my daughter sees to her personal affects being prepared for removal-which I’m certain will take several weeks to be done properly, of course-but it simply isn’t done for her to stay under your roof without a chaperone.”
“I’d be delighted to have you here,” James was saying with what appeared to be complete sincerity. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin Mrs.-er, Lady Rockley’s reputation.”
“And aside of that, the duchess and Lady Petronilla and I would be honored to help you sift through those”- she gestured to a tray overflowing already with new invitations-“and determine which ones to accept, and which ones might be best ignored, if you follow my thinking,” Lady Melly said with a knowing look. “In fact, we were just about to discuss our plans for this evening, which include a garden party at the Twisdale residence.”