“That’s quite a shame, ma’am, Lady Rockley,” James said, all charm and dimples, speaking easily over the volume of Lady Melly. “Mr. Starcasset and his friend Miss Regalado invited me to join them this evening. They claim there is some special comet that can be seen tonight in a certain location, near one of the parks. I confess, I’m not altogether sure I care about stargazing, but I thought it was a splendid excuse to see if you’d join me for a drive later tonight.”
Victoria closed her lips around the automatic declination. George and Sara had invited James to join them for an evening ride? “Of course I’d be honored to attend with you,” she replied, aware that she had just sent Lady Melly over the moon.
What more could a matchmaking mother hope for? Victoria was certain her maternal parent was imagining a romantic carriage ride by moonlight, whereas the reality was likely something much more disagreeable. Namely, a ruse to entrap someone.
But who was the intended prey: James… or Victoria?
“And where might your paramour be this evening?” asked Max. His tone implied that Sebastian’s appearance would relieve him of the taxing obligation of conversing with Victoria. “Tell me there hasn’t been a lovers’ spat. You do seem a bit… distracted.”
Distracted was one word to describe Victoria’s state of mind, but not the one she would have chosen.
It was after dinner. They had settled in the only sitting room on that floor-the small parlor that had entertained not only Lady Melly and her friends, but which also held the cupboard wherein the Gardella family Bible was kept. When Aunt Eustacia had been alive, and first acclimating Victoria to the world of the Venators, the three of them- four, when Kritanu was there, and sometimes Wayren- had sat here many times.
“I’m pleased to inform you that your plans for my future are still intact. Sebastian and I have done nothing but share wistful glances, swoon at the sight of the other, and spout poetry-all since you’ve given your blessing to the match.” Her smile was sweeter than the double-iced pink sugar biscuits favored by Lady Winnie.
Max’s lips twitched. “Ah, if only I had been witness to such a spectacle. I expect it would have provided me amusement for weeks to come.” He stretched his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Did Vioget position himself on one knee so as to look up into your crystalline eyes whilst waxing rhapsodic?”
“I believe I shall have a bit of sherry,” Victoria said. “Would you like me to pour you some whiskey? Apparently my aunt had a fondness for it, but I can’t say I share her taste.” She closed her mouth with a snap, realizing how close she was coming to babbling nervously.
“By all means.”
Victoria stood at the sideboard and prepared their drinks, then turned back to deliver the amber liquor to Max. Then she took herself to the chair near a small piecrust table where she’d sat, sharpening stakes, nearly two years ago, defending her decision to marry Philip.
A glance at the clock told her it was after nine. James was due to arrive at ten o’clock. Victoria took a significantgulp of sherry, despising the watery liquid for its weakness. And herself.
“Am I to understand that you haven’t any intention of going out tonight?” Max asked. He was looking at her over the rim of his glass. Then he drank, and put the glass back down.
“Perhaps later,” Victoria replied.
He raised his brows. “No social engagements? No vampire hunting?”
“James is to call for me later.”
“James, is it? And what does Monsieur Vioget think of this? Or are you hunting the daytime vampire?” His eyes narrowed in speculation. “You believe it’s he, don’t you. I’m not so certain.”
“Truly? How odd, since you were the one who suggested that it might indeed be he.”
“Ah, so you hadn’t considered him before my mention.” He looked utterly pleased with himself.
She stood abruptly and walked over to the cabinet which housed the Bible. “I have not seen this since the first time Aunt Eustacia told me about the legacy of the Gardellas.”
Feeling Max’s attention on her, she fumbled the small gold key into its slot. Click, click, clunk. She swung open the bifold doors, heavy and slick.
Inside the cabinet, on its gently inclining display, rested the elderly Bible.
It was heavy, with gilt-edged pages that shone stubbornly despite its age. The leather corners were rounded and bumped, but the spine was as rigid as Aunt Eustacia’s own had been. Three faded silk bookmarks fell lifelessly from their places.
She pulled out the book and placed it on the larger table in the middle of the room. She needed something to focus on, rather than the thoughts and questions running rampant through her mind.
Opening the front cover, Victoria smoothed her hand over words written in ink of varying shades of black, brown, and sepia. Listed there in the front pages were the names of the Gardellas who had accepted their calling as Venators. She touched one of the last names scribed there: Eustacia Alexandria Gardella. Below it was her own name: Victoria Anastasia Gardella. Seeing it there, its ink relatively fresh and bold, Victoria shivered.
Would there be any other names beneath hers?
Feeling the weight of Max’s gaze, she was compelled to lecture. “Aunt Eustacia told me that the original pages of this Bible were given to the family during the Middle Ages. Six hundred years ago.” She looked up, saw that he was silently sipping his drink. “A Gardella monk scribed this book in the twelfth century. I wonder if there was any connection to the monks who built the subterranean crypt Sebastian and I visited by the sewers.”
“One could contemplate the beautiful irony of monks scribing a Bible in chambers next to those penning vampire secrets,” Max said gravely. “It would not surprise me, as the monks and undead have intertwined-usually at odds-for centuries.”
The Bible’s pages had been bound, and rebound, and more pages added to include the growing family tree as the decades passed. Victoria carefully turned the crisp brown sheets. They crackled like a gentle fire. She saw images on some of them, and fading script on others, line after line. Ornate lettering, patterns, and illustrations in faded colors decorated the first letters of each book of the Bible.
Turning back to the front, she resumed scanning the list of Venator names. Catherine Victoria Gardella. An image of a vivid redhead with a flashy emerald ring and a saucy expression came to mind, and Victoria nodded to herself. Yes, she’d seen her portrait in the hall at the Consilium in Rome.
Another name, faded and further up the list, drew her attention. Rosamunde Joanna Gardella. The mystic who wrote pages of prophecy during her youth in an abbey… before she learned of her calling as a Venator.
A thought struck her, and she turned back to the end of the list. “Sebastian’s name isn’t written here,” she said, looking up at Max.
“Nor is mine.” He sipped, swallowed. “That list in the front is confined to those who have descended directly from Gardeleus, with strong Gardella blood-such as yourself.”
An odd expression crossed his face and he stopped, blinking hard. Victoria tensed. But then he continued, “I believe the back of the book shows a full family tree, and also every Venator from the extended branches of the family tree-and those of us who can’t claim one drop of Gardella blood. You’ll find Zavier there, I suspect, and Brim, and Michalas as well. Or so I’ve been told.”
“I see.” A little shiver worked its way over the back of her shoulders. It wouldn’t be long now. “If I had looked more closely at the book early on, I would have known the truth about Sebastian much sooner, since you and Aunt Eustacia chose not to tell me.”
“There was no point in telling you.” Max shifted in his seat. “And Vioget should have been struck from the list years ago. He had no cause to be there.”
Knowing that this could be the last conversation she and Max ever had, Victoria closed the book and looked at him. “Why do you hate him so?”