The Rest Falls Away (15 page)

Phillip turned to face her, crowding her gently toward the railing, and she tipped her face up. His dark hair rose well above his forehead, not one lock daring to fall from its high-brushed moorings even when he looked down at her. The look in his half-mast eyes made her hands damp, and she smiled nervously.

“Victoria,” he said in a rumbling voice that carried to only her ears. “You must know that I have never forgotten you, and my regard for you has grown since we renewed our acquaintance.”

At that moment Victoria felt a prickle of cold air over the back of her neck. She started, so sudden was the sensation, and so unexpected. Why
now?

Phillip was looking at her in concern. “Victoria?”

“Go on, please. You…were saying?” She smiled. Perhaps it was only a chill spring breeze.

He took both of her gloved hands, and drew each of them, one at a time, to his lips, pressing a brief kiss onto the back and then the palms of each one. “When I made the decision to look for a bride, I anticipated it would take me nearly as long to settle on one as it had taken me to decide to look.”

It was not a breeze. The chill had become harsher, more intense. Victoria, who stood with the railing behind her and the light of the ballroom spilling out in front of her, tried to keep her attention on Phillip. She smiled up at her suitor, even as it became clear that the vampire was not in the ballroom.

He or she was here, outside. Likely with a chosen victim.

She had to do something. Her fingers tightened in Phillip's grasp, and she looked back up at him. “Phillip…I feel a bit of a chill.”

He stopped, as her words had interrupted his, and looked down at her. “Could we…I should like to speak with you about something before we go back inside. I have something I wish to ask you.” He released her hands and boldly placed his fingers around her bare arms, gently moving his hands up and down as if to warm her.

Victoria swallowed. She wanted to hear what he was going to say…but how could she listen now?

“Victoria,” Phillip had continued to speak, “as I said, I expected it to take me a long time to find the right woman to marry…so imagine my surprise and delight when I realized I'd found her only weeks after beginning my search. Because, in truth, I had found you long ago.”

The cold at the back of her neck was unbearable; it was all she could do to keep from pulling her arms from Phillip's grip and rubbing her nape while dashing off into the gardens below.

For that was where the vampire was.

And how was she going to get away to get there?

“Victoria, will you be my marchioness?”

“Yes, Phillip! Yes, I will…but would you please get my wrap? I am frightfully chilled!” She couldn't help that her voice came out with a panicked note. She had to stop the vampire.

He looked down at her, surprise stamped on his face, as if he didn't quite know how to react.

Victoria had to think: She
had
accepted his proposal, hadn't she?

“Yes, of course, my lady,” he replied slowly, formally. Victoria felt a pit in the bottom of her stomach.

He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled his face down for a kiss, murmuring, “Yes, I will marry you, Phillip. I want to marry you.” A great burst of joy flooded her. She was in love, and she was going to marry Phillip!

He kissed her in return, and then she pulled away, the frigidity at the nape of her neck calling her back to duty. “If you would collect my wrap, please, Phillip, so we can stay out here for a bit?” She smiled, biting the inside of her lip, silently entreating him to
go now
so she could slip down into the gardens.

He was smiling too, now, not so formal, and she knew she'd saved that moment…now if only she could save the victim.
Go now!

He did, striding quickly from the terrace back into the ballroom, and Victoria barely waited until he was inside before hurrying down the steps into the dark gardens below.

+ 10 +

Wherein Miss Grantworth

Takes Herself Out of Training

When Phillip returned to
the terrace carrying Victoria's filmy wrap, she was gone.

He stood in the pie-shaped wedge of light that spilled over the stones and looked around to be certain she hadn't moved into a more shadowy corner, but she was nowhere to be seen. The other couples had disappeared. The patio was empty.

Just then he heard a faint scream from down below, in the gardens.

He ran down the steps, the shawl fluttering in his hand. His feet crunched on the pebble-stoned path, spewing up a scattering of stones with each step.

“Victoria!” he called, dashing to the left, where he was sure he'd heard the scream—a sound so faint if he'd been inside the building for one more moment, he would not have heard it.

Why had she left the terrace? What had happened?

Had someone taken her?

As he rounded a bend in the path, he nearly collided with a figure in skirts. She was staggering, half bent, sobbing, clutching at her gown. Without thinking about propriety, he grabbed the woman's shoulders. “Victoria?” he said, giving her a soft shake.

She looked up. It was not Victoria but Miss Emily Colton, who had been standing with Frederick Truscott on the terrace only moments before. Her face was a terrified mask. Something dark, like a scratch, marked her neck. She was babbling something incoherent, clutching at him as if she were drowning and he was pulling her from the water.

Phillip was torn. Victoria was still out there, but Miss Colton needed him too. And what had happened to Truscott?

“Come,” he said, pulling her after him, back toward the house, calling for help along the way. Over her muffled sobs, he listened fearfully for another cry from the dark.

“Did you see anyone else?” he demanded urgently. “Another woman? Miss Grantworth?”

She seemed to nod, to give an affirmation, but he wasn't certain what she was saying between her sobs and trembling. When they came in sight of the terrace, he gave the woman a gentle push and called for help, then turned and dashed back into the darkness.

“Victoria!” he called. “Victoria!”

He rounded another corner, and nearly ran into her.

“Victoria!” he exclaimed, grasping her shoulders and pulling her to his chest, crushing her there in gratitude that she wasn't the one sobbing, frightened. “What happened? Are you all right?”

She seemed to be breathing hard, but she didn't appear to be in any distress, and she disengaged herself from his death grip more easily than she should have been able to. She was looking at him, surprise and something else…something intense…in her beautiful face. For a moment he forgot his worry and just enjoyed the perfection of her countenance—then wondered why her eyes carried such a predatory glint.

“Phillip? I'm fine. I am not hurt at all. What's wrong?”

“I heard someone scream, and I thought it was you! You weren't on the terrace when I came back.” He realized he'd dropped her wrap somewhere along the way, and he slipped his arm around her waist. After all, she had accepted his proposal. Although it wasn't official, they were engaged. It was proper enough.

“I dropped my indispensable from the terrace, and when I went down to get it, I heard a woman…talking, arguing—she sounded as if she were in danger.”

“So you went after her to help?” Phillip wanted to shake her, his fragile love. “You could have been hurt!”

“But I was not…it was Emily Colton. She ran past me. Did you see her?”

“Yes. She was frightened, but appeared to be unharmed. You sweet, foolish girl,” he said, squeezing her close to him with his arm around her waist. He should have expected nothing less of one who would dress down a young man half again as tall as she was when she was only twelve—her beauty and her boldness, her charm and her tendency to think for herself and not as Society would dictate. No wonder he loved her. “You were brave to go to her aid, but you could have been hurt yourself! You should have called for assistance.”

Victoria nodded against him. They were walking up the steps, and Phillip was pleased to see that the terrace was still empty. Miss Colton would be taken care of after her fright, whatever it had been—perhaps something as simple as a branch catching at her or an argument with Truscott, wherever he had gone off to—and he and Victoria could stand on the patio alone.

And begin again where they had left off.

He looked down, ready to gather her back into his arms. “Victoria, what is that in your hand?”

He saw even in the half-light that her cheeks flushed light pink. She looked down at the slender piece of wood she held as if wondering how it got there. “I…it was falling from my hair as I hurried to help Miss Colton. I'll just put it in my indispensable, for only my maid knows how to repair my hair.”

Phillip thought the stick looked rather large and unwieldy to be part of such an intricate coiffure, but what did he know about how women dressed their hair? He appreciated the results, but had little interest in the mechanics.

He was just pulling her close to him, tipping her chin up with a gentle nudge of his thumb, when he realized she was looking over his shoulder into the ballroom. “Phillip…I really must go check on Miss Colton and make certain she is unhurt.”

Disappointment rolled over him. “I'm certain she's being well cared-for. Although I don't know what became of Lord Truscott.”

She pulled easily from what he thought was a firm grip. “Phillip, I promise…I will return in just a moment. I feel responsible for her. Won't you come inside with me?” She smiled so prettily, and hugged his arm so close to the length of her body, brushing against the side of her bosom, that he couldn't refuse.

 

+ + +

Back inside the Madagascar home, Victoria quickly excused herself from Phillip. Frantic with the delay he'd caused by catching her in the gardens, she hurried through the throngs of people, knowing she would have to offer more explanation to him later.

She was relieved there didn't seem to be a massive sense of panic or outrage from the partygoers. More clusters of people were talking than dancing, but they did not seem to be upset. Possibly Miss Colton had made her way to the ladies' changing room without causing too much of a commotion about the vampire attack that had happened only yards away from the merrymaking.

Victoria prayed that was the case, and hoped Miss Colton was in no frame of mind to speak of what had happened…or ask about the whereabouts of Lord Truscott. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain that he'd poofed into a cloud of ashes.

It was perhaps too much to hope that Emily Colton hadn't realized what was happening before Victoria arrived upon the scene; but she did indeed hope. It had happened quickly. Lord Truscott was just bending his face to her neck when Victoria burst upon them.

Emily escaped during the moment of surprise, disappearing into the brush with a shriek before Victoria had come face-to-face with Truscott and plunged the stake into his chest.

Now she hurried down the hall and reached the ladies' retiring room. Pausing to collect her breath and pat down her hair, Victoria eased the door open and found a small cluster of women around a white-faced Emily Colton.

“Emily,” Victoria said, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. “How are you?”

“Oh!” shrieked Emily, leaping to her feet and throwing herself at Victoria. “You are unhurt! I was so frightened for you!”

Victoria gently extricated her from the other woman's arms. “I am not hurt at all. And how do you feel?”

Emily ignored the question and began babbling to the others, pointing at Victoria with a shaking finger. “She came right in at the moment he attacked me! I ran away! I shouldn't have left her, but I was too frightened to think!”

The five other ladies looked from Victoria to Emily and back again, as if measuring the difference in their demeanors. Victoria was careful to keep her expression gentle even though she needed to know what Emily had seen, and whether she'd realized what happened.

Emily was still speaking rapidly, as though she had to let the words loose or she would lose them. “What happened? Did Lord Truscott—?”

“I don't know what happened to him,” Victoria replied, clasping her fingers around Emily's hand. “As soon as you ran, he turned and disappeared in another direction. He didn't hurt me. He didn't even speak to me.” That, at least, was true.

It appeared Emily accepted this explanation, and the others had no reason to question it. The word
vampire
had not been uttered, and Victoria need give no explanation for Truscott's disappearance. Now she could excuse herself and find Phillip.

It would be easy to return to her betrothed, but it would not be so easy to accept that she had killed Lord Truscott of the soft brown eyes and clumsy feet.

 

+ + +

“It has happened!” Lady Melisande burst into Winnie's drawing room without waiting for the butler. “Oh, glory be, it has happened! Victoria is to be a marchioness!”

“Rockley has come up to snuff?” Winnie leaped to her feet with surprising agility for one so well cushioned. “Oh, Melly, I am enraptured for you! And for Victoria, too, of course!”

“Victoria is to marry Rockley?” Petronilla exclaimed at the precise moment the duchess squealed. “Get out of my way, Winnie, so I can hug her too!”

The ladies danced around the room, the china and knickknacks clinking in their wake.

“He came just shortly ago to get my blessing—as if he needed to ask!” Melly, out of breath, huffed as she sank into a chair.

Winnie, who had snatched up two blueberry scones, did not pause in her enthusiastic prancing until she'd poured tea for the newest arrival. Then she plunked down next to her.