Then her sharp black eyes focused unwaveringly on Victoria. "But it is no use changing the subject, my dear. I understand you have achieved the goal which we had all been working toward. May I offer you my deepest congratulations, my heartfelt thanks, and—"
"—And my gravest anger."
Max, of course, standing tall and forbidding in the open door of the parlor. Verbena stood goggle-eyed and spasmic-haired behind him, and behind her was Jimmons, the red-faced butler, who should not have allowed the visitor entrance without warning. Although, knowing Max, Victoria acknowledged that she wasn't terribly surprised that it had happened.
He stepped fully into the room, dressed all in black, including his shirtwaist—Victoria didn't even realize they made black shirtwaists—and shut the door smartly behind him, nearly pinching Verbena's inquisitive nose.
"Just what did you think you were doing, Victoria?" he snapped, stalking toward her.
"Max—" Aunt Eustacia began, but Victoria overruled her.
"Saving your life… or have you so easily forgotten?" She stood too, upturned face to his furious one.
"Saving my… Victoria, if you had shared your information with me prior to the moment when it nearly cost me my life, the saving of it would not have been a factor! In fact, we would have determined the best way—"
"—for you to obtain the book, while I sat home and tended to my fripperies and furbelows, no doubt!"
"Of course not! It would have been a team effort, with a plan—"
"Easy words from the man who did not share his information with me either! What kind of team effort did you have in mind, Max?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but Eustacia had had enough. She shot out of her chair at Victoria's last words and placed herself quite straitly betwixt the two of them, a hand out in either direction. "Sit down, both of you," she ordered in a thunderous voice that Victoria had never heard before.
She sat. And so did Max. But, she noticed, he didn't look the least bit cowed.
"Let me make this clear," she said, spearing each of them with her eyes in turn. "The two of you are our only real hope here in England, and you must learn to work together, or we will find ourselves splintered by dissension. Now, I am not going to discuss further what happened last night… except to congratulate you both. And to breathe a great sigh of relief. We have the Book of Antwartha, and Lilith does not. You executed three Imperial vampires, Max, and that, I believe, is a one-night record. The most I ever did was two in one night," she added with a twitch of a rueful smile. "And numerous other Guardians, I am aware. Thanks in part to your resourceful maid."
Victoria nodded in agreement; she had expressed the very same gratitude to Verbena, which, must have, in part, caused the maid's newfound officiousness.
"What is to be done with the book now that we have it?" asked Max easily, as if the outburst and scolding had never happened.
Before Aunt Eustacia could respond, a proper knock came at the parlor door and Jimmons opened it to peek in. Victoria nodded, and he widened the opening and said, "It is too early for calls, but the gentleman would not be dissuaded from being announced, Miss Victoria. The Marquess of Rockley."
Warmth suffused her face before she could catch it, and without looking at Max or Aunt Eustacia, Victoria replied, "Please show the marquess in, Jimmons. I expect this shall not be the first time he calls outside of normal polite hours."
From the look on his face, Max dearly wanted to say something… but before he could, the door opened again and Rockley came in.
Victoria rose eagerly, but managed to catch herself before rushing to Phillip's side. Their engagement was not yet announced; it would be unseemly for her to act so until after this evening's ball. But a great part of her yearned to put her arms around him, to bury her face in his chest and lose herself in his normalcy… in the nonvampiric, stake-less, well-lit comfort of normalcy.
He, too, seemed to need to restrain himself from touching her; but when he saw the other occupants of the room, Phillip stiffened into a more formal persona and took an offered seat not so far from the one in which Max sat.
"I am sorry to call so early," he said after the appropriate introductions—or, in Max's case, reintroductions, "but I heard what happened last night and I came to be certain all was well."
Victoria stared at him. How could he know about what had transpired… how?
But Phillip was still talking, his bluish-gray eyes serious and concerned. "Is your mother here? Is she safe?"
And then she began to understand. "My mother is fine. She is sleeping well upstairs, and I do believe she has put the whole event from her mind." Literally. "What and how did you hear of this?"
"The word was that her carriage had been stolen, with her in it. That was the only news, and it was not until early this morning that I heard. I am glad she is here, and well. And you… Miss Grantworth, you must have had an awful night of it." Because they had not yet announced their betrothal, he used her formal title, but there was no mistaking the personal, intimate way he spoke it.
Max shifted in his chair. "If you heard of the carriage being stolen only this morning, I wonder why the news that Lady Melly was arrived home safely did not also reach your ears." He smiled pleasantly.
Phillip returned the smile. Pleasantly. "You've found me out, Lor—er, Mr. Pesaro. It was merely an excuse to assure myself that Miss Grantworth was suffering no ill effects from what must have been a terribly trying night."
Victoria covered Max's short bark of laughter with her response. "How kind of you, my lord." She sent him a smile that matched the intimate timbre of his voice. "I can assure you, although my evening was difficult in more ways than one can imagine, I am feeling quite the thing now that it is morning and the sun is high in the sky."
Phillip looked at her, then at Aunt Eustacia, and glanced over at Max before returning his attention to Victoria. "I am certain that after last night's frightening experience, you will need to rest and take your time preparing for the ball tonight. I am hopeful that this evening will be just as exhausting, but in a more pleasant way. We will have much help in celebrating our news."
"News?" Max asked delicately, springing to the bait. "Another ball? Celebrating what?"
"Why, our engagement, of course," Phillip replied blandly. "Victoria and I are to be married in one month's time."
Chapter Fourteen
Whereupon an Alliance Is Suggested
Victoria wore a gown of the palest of icy purple, with dark violet rosebuds and lace trimmings along the flounces of her skirt. Verbena dressed her hair in all manner of intricate coils and braids, made all the more labyrinthine by its corkscrew nature, and anchored it at the very top of her head. Two strands hung free, one on either side of her face, curling from her temples to rest over her collarbones.Sparkling behind them were clusters of amethyst and diamonds hanging from her ears. A large, square amethyst rested in the hollow at the base of her throat, tied there by a white velvet ribbon.
She carried a small indispensable of pearlescent silk, into which was tucked a faded pink satin ribbon, and draped a thin alençon lace shawl around her elbows.
She did not carry a stake. Or holy water. Or even wear a cross, except one tucked deeply into her bodice… and dangling from her navel.
Tonight she was not a Venator.
Tonight Victoria was the betrothed of the Marquess of Rockley.
Perhaps it was an impetuous decision, but Victoria wanted one night to enjoy being a woman in love with a handsome, charming, wealthy man. She wanted one night when she did not have to consider how a vampire might enter the ballroom, or how she might make a quick exit… or even whether the breeze at the back of her neck was a gust of summer wind or the sign of an undead.
She wanted to be normal.
Nevertheless, she had brought a stake and had hidden it with her cloak in the family parlor. Just in case.
Phillip had never looked more handsome as he led her to the dance floor after their betrothal was announced by his closest relative—his deceased mother's brother—halfway through the ball. He swept Victoria gracefully into his arms and they began the first waltz of the second set, surrounded by a combination of beaming and surprised faces.
At first they were the only couple on the dance floor. Through five measures, Victoria felt the weight of half the ton's gaze on her, assessing the wife-to-be of the Marquess of Rockley, one of the most sought-after bachelors of Society. He looked down at her as if she were the only woman he'd ever seen—or would see—as they turned around the oblong dance floor in an elongated triangular path.
By the time they'd come near the edge of spectators three times, other couples had begun to ease their way out to take their own turns to the waltz, and Victoria did not feel so much like a trophy on display.
Phillip lifted his gaze periodically to meet the eyes of friends, family, and acquaintances as he guided her through their paces, but his attention always returned to her. It made Victoria feel warm and tingly, the way he looked at her with promise and steadiness. She smiled, turning her face up and looking only at him, trusting that he would direct her through the steps without her having to notice where they were going or near whom they were stepping.
A wonderful feeling… allowing herself to let go. To not have to be aware of her surroundings. To not have to listen to her instincts and wonder when that chill would creep across her neck, and to not have to calculate how she would slip from the room to do her duty.
"Your aunt and your cousin did not appear to be pleased with our news," Phillip said after they had been dancing for a moment and there were others on the floor.
"I believe you simply took them by surprise with your announcement. They expressed their overwhelming emotion after you took your leave."
"I thought perhaps they would have wanted to attend tonight to celebrate with us. I am disappointed that they did not accept the invitation to join us here at St. Heath's Row."