"Don't be ridiculous, Nilly," Melly told her. "Despite my mad aunt's propensity for carrying holy water and pressing garlic on anyone who will take it, there is no such thing as vampires. You have been reading too many gothic novels."
"Surely the Runners would stop them if there were vampires," Winnie managed to choke out. "Perhaps I ought to consider wearing my cross again."
"The Runners couldn't stop them," Petronilla told her calmly. "Vampires have superhuman powers. They are stronger than the strongest man, and they have an allure that cannot be resisted." She smiled complacently and copped a dreamy look. "According to Polidori's book—and everyone knows he is the expert on vampires—a vampire can seduce a woman with a mere look. From across the room."
"Nilly, have you been into the sherry this afternoon? There are no such things as vampires!" Melly exclaimed. "You are frightening Winnie, and the servants will think you daft if they hear you fantasizing about evil creatures that don't even exist. We have much more important things to worry about—such as how to push Rockley's interest in Victoria. I don't expect that he will darken the door of Almack's, but perhaps we will see him at another event this week."
Winifred eagerly seized upon the change of subject. "He will be attending the Dunsteads' ball tomorrow night. If you haven't been invited, I can arrange for that."
"We have been invited and plan to attend. And this time I will not let Victoria out of my sight until she has danced two dances with the marquess!" Melly said with determination.
"We will help you," Winnie said, sipping her unsweetened tea. Sugar tended to add unwanted pounds to one's hips if one didn't take care. "If there are vampires lurking in the darkness, the last thing we want is Victoria coming face-to-face with one!"
"Miss Grantworth… at last the opportunity to collect my lost dance."
Victoria turned at the sound of the warm, mellow voice and found herself face-to-face with the Marquess of Rockley. He wore a gently flirtatious smile, and his blue, heavy-lidded eyes glinted with satisfaction.
"My lord," she replied, returning his smile, "how kind of you to remind me of my abominable manners from the other night."
He must have appreciated her sense of humor, for he offered his arm and responded, "How else would I goad you into seeking my forgiveness? After all, begging off merely because your elderly aunt was feeling unwell… well, one might believe it was only a handy reason for abdicating your dance."
"Hmmm," said Victoria, slipping her fingers around his arm, "I didn't realize my excuses were so transparent. Perhaps next time I'll be forced to invent a fatal disease or something of that nature!"
"It is my hope, Miss Grantworth, that you won't be inventing any further excuses for missing a dance with me, as I assure you that I am not about to tread on your toes, despite the fact that my feet are thrice the size of your own."
"Ah, you have found me out… 'twas for that very reason I made certain I was not available when your dance came up. The rumors of black-and-blue marks on the feet of the other debutantes… well, they are quite frightening. Alas, I shall have to chance the tenderness of my toes, as you have caught me dead to rights." Laughing, she tightened her fingers around his arm, surprised at how solid and warm it felt, even through her gloves and his fine woven jacket. Looking up at him, she again felt a hint of familiarity, as if she had known him another time.
"It appears to be a waltz, Miss Grantworth… Lady Melisande, do you permit your daughter to waltz?" He was looking over her shoulder.
Victoria turned back to her mother and Duchess Winnie, who'd both been watching her banter with Rockley whilst wearing complacent smiles.
"Of course, Lord Rockley, of course," trilled Lady Melly. "My lord, I hope you will enjoy your dance!" Her eyes gleamed.
"She certainly does," muttered Victoria as Rockley swept her away.
She bumped gently against his tall form as they turned, and he looked down at her with a knowing smile. "She certainly does what, Miss Grantworth?"
"Hopes that you will enjoy your dance with me; but I am certain that you are no more hard of hearing than I am. It must be difficult for you, now that you, the elusive Marquess of Rockley, have announced you are seeking a bride. All of the matchmaking mamas have lined up, conniving and scheming to bring you into their fold."
They stepped onto the dance floor in the ballroom of the Duke and Duchess of Dunstead's home. With a fluid, practiced motion, Rockley slipped the arm she clung to around and behind her, pivoting her to face him. "You cannot imagine being in such a predicament?" He grasped her fingers, and they stepped into the time of the music.
"No, I truly cannot." She looked up and found his eyes fastened quite quizzically on her.
"But are you not in the very same position? Being put on display for all of the young… and not so young bucks," he added with a rueful smile, "looking to wed and father an heir? Surely you must feel the same pressures our society imposes on all of us who are gentrified and also unwed."
The dull ache of the ring through her navel was a reminder of the biggest pressure of all. She'd executed two vampires since receiving her vis bulla: one at the Roweford ball (causing her to miss Rockley's second dance, to her dismay) and one during an intermission at the Drury Lane Theatre. Both stakings had been frightening and exhilarating at the same time. The most difficult aspect, however, had been creating a reason to slip away and do her duty. Fortunately, Aunt Eustacia had been in attendance at both events and had been able to help her make her escape.
Victoria returned the marquess's smile. "I may feel the pressure, but I have no intention of succumbing to it."
He looked startled. "You do not wish to wed? Does your mother know this?"
"It isn't that I do not want to marry; that I definitely intend to do," she explained truthfully as he twirled her around the floor. "It's that I have no intention of being rushed into making a decision that will affect me for the rest of my life." Especially since she'd just made such a decision in accepting the Gardella Legacy.
But that was different.
It wasn't as if any other woman—or man—crowding the ball tonight would have such a choice to make.
The surprise in his face evaporated. "I can certainly understand that sentiment, Miss Grantworth. I'm not certain that your mother, who is, at this moment, watching us with a definitely plotting expression on her face, would agree with you, but I can fully relate."
Victoria smiled up at him, a burst of pleasure trilling through her at the joy of being spun gently across the floor by the Marquess of Rockley, no less. Surely Rockley was the handsomest, most charming, and wealthiest unattached man at the ball. And he was looking down at her with quite obvious interest.
"Miss Grantworth, I have a confession to make."
"Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows delicately.
Every time she looked at him, she felt a gentle churning in her stomach—an expectant, pleasant churning.
"We once met long ago… and I have not been able to forget you."
"It does feel as though we've met," she replied. "I have been wondering on that myself… but I must confess that I do not recall when or where it was."
"Your forthrightness pains me, Miss Grantworth, but I must tell you the story. Perhaps it will stir your memory. Some of my father's holdings abutted Prewitt Shore, your family estate, I believe. And one summer many years ago—I was perhaps sixteen—I was riding one of the stallions from the stable. One that I was not, of course, supposed to ride," he added with the hint of a proud smile, "but, of course, I was a daredevil and I did. I came barreling across a meadow, not realizing I had strayed onto the lands of our neighbor, and—Ah, but you do remember now, don't you?"
Victoria's face had lightened with a smile. "Phillip! I knew you only as Phillip; you did not tell me you were the marquess's son!" The image was with her; it had been buried in the recesses of her mind, that summer when she was but twelve, but now it came back as though it were yesterday: a sturdy, dark-haired young man flying across the fields on a hot summer day. "You jumped over the fence and your mount landed, and so did you—on the ground in a tumble!"
He laughed ruefully, his square jaw softened by the movement. "Indeed, and I suffered for my boldness. But I met you, the pretty, dark-haired girl who rushed to my aid and made certain I was cared for. And you even chased down Ranger, the stallion, so that he would not return to the stables without me and tell the tale of my deceit. If I recall… once you were sure that I wasn't gravely injured, you spent the next ten minutes chastising me for my foolishness. The image of you standing above me, calmly holding the reins of that large chestnut gelding, and flaying me with your tongue, has stayed with me always."
Victoria looked away demurely. "I must have been quite bold to speak so to a man I did not know."
"Indeed, and it was your boldness and your fearlessness that intrigued me. I have not forgotten you, Miss Grantworth, for you made quite a lasting impression on that young man. And," he added as the dance music came to a close, "it has become clear that you have lost none of your boldness, nor your opinions, nor your originality… for I am quite certain that there is not another debutante in this room, or in the ton, that is as unconcerned about finding a husband as you are."
"And I have never truly forgotten the young man who rode with such carefree abandon in a manner that I only dreamed of doing. I envied you that. And I can hardly comprehend that you are the same boy that I knew for a few weeks! The marquess's son—I would never have known it."
He smiled down at her, and warmth returned to her face. "Someday, perhaps we will ride together, Miss Grantworth. And you can try your hand at leaping over fences and bounding across fields. I promise, I will tell no one."