The Rest Falls Away (9 page)

“My maid told me she heard of a woman who was visited by a vampire in her bedchamber,” Petronilla breathed. Her hand fluttered at her throat. “She said it wasn't frightening at all. That he was very gentle and…passionate.”

“Gentle until he sucked all of her blood out with his fangs!” exclaimed Winnie in shock. “Nilly, I assure you, it would be no sweet picnic to have a creature suck the blood from your chest.”

“I would agree if I believed they even existed. Now, enough of that ridiculous topic. Tell me what I shall do to ensure Rockley regains his interest in Victoria,” Melly said, forgetting her habit of nibbling. She stuffed a whole ginger cookie in her mouth.

 

+ + +

“Rockley was so attentive last evening, and the way he spoke about fetching your lemonade and having a thirst all night…well, I was certain he intended to ask you for a second dance, Victoria. I can't imagine what could have happened,” Lady Melly said as they settled in the carriage that evening.

“I can't either, Mama,” Victoria lied.

“Unless that girl Gwendolyn Starcasset has caught his eye again. He did dance with her twice at Lady Florina's ball three weeks ago.” Lady Melly's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “You must invest greater effort into catching his attention, Victoria. Unless something has put him off, which I can't imagine what, you should have no problem regaining his attention. He finds you very attractive; he had his eyes on you whilst you were dancing with that dreadful Lord Truscott I warned you about.”

“Lord Truscott wasn't so dreadful.”

“Hmph. He hasn't the money nor the looks of Rockley. I do hope you will pay some attention to the marquess the next time we see him at an event. Perhaps you should not have left the ball early last night.”

Victoria nodded and agreed. Once her mother was put to something, she was put to it. And apparently Lady Melly was determined to make a match between her daughter and the marquess.

In all honesty, Victoria had to admit it was a pleasant thought. She'd danced with Rockley several times, and spoken with him at other social engagements, and she found nothing about him lacking. He was very agreeable, and certainly handsome. Witty and kind and charming, just as he had been that summer long ago when she knew him only as a young man—certainly not a marquess!—who seemed carefree and bold. They'd met every day for a fortnight, and he'd never let on he was more than a boy from the village. He thought she was interesting and original and he had sought her out, based on his memory of her. That meant something, did it not?

Or perhaps his memory of her had been so perfect—although how a young woman harping on him could be considered perfect, she wasn't sure—that the reality of who she was today, grown into a young lady, did not meld with what he remembered. Perhaps she was a disappointment.

At least he hadn't tried to entice her into a secluded alcove and thrust his tongue down her throat and his hand into her bodice, as Viscount Walligrove had done at the Terner-Fordhams' dinner party two nights earlier. Victoria had dealt with the lecherous man and his bloated lips quite neatly. He hadn't known what came at him when she used some of the
kalaripayattu
moves Kritanu had taught her. Combined with the added strength from her
vis bulla,
Victoria's defense techniques had left the viscount in a heap on the floor, with a black eye, a broken nose, and a sprained ankle.

Perhaps he'd think twice about groping an innocent girl in the future.

“We are going to have to see about procuring a different maid for you, Victoria,” continued Lady Melly in a completely different vein. “That girl—Verbena—is much too careless in her work. Look at you—your hair is already falling down, and we haven't even arrived at the Straithwaites' yet!” She leaned toward Victoria, her hand reaching toward the thick curl that rested over Victoria's shoulder.

“Mother, please.” Victoria moved quickly out of reach, though that meant huddling further into the corner of the seat she shared with Lady Melly and crinkling her silk skirts even more. “I have no need to replace Verbena. She arranged my hair this way purposely, for I wanted to try a different style. Perhaps we'll start a new fashion.” She smiled, even as she toyed with the offending lock of hair to make sure it still covered the four red marks on her neck.

“Hmph.” Lady Melly settled back in her seat. “I can't say as I like the style for myself, but there is something to be said for being an Original. If you need to be an Original in order to catch Rockley's eye, then so be it. And I suppose the Straithwaites' musicale is one of the better places to debut a new style, if there is one.”

Victoria couldn't argue. Lord Renald and Lady Gloria Straithwaite were distant cousins of Lady Melly, and every year they displayed the substantial musical talents of their four daughters at a performance carefully choreographed to show them at their finest. The eldest had made a successful match last Season, and the Straithwaites clearly intended to continue the trend.

Because the Straithwaite daughters were triply endowed—with talent, funds, and curves—the musicale was fairly well attended by the marriage-seeking bachelors of the
ton.

Shortly after arriving at Stimmons Hall, Victoria found herself seated in the ballroom. Tonight, though there would be music, there would be no dancing. The rows of chairs and the few settees along the side walls made it clear that all attention was to be focused on the four Straithwaite sisters.

She couldn't help but crane her neck to see if perhaps Rockley had elected to attend, but she did not see his dark head anywhere. Victoria settled in her seat to peruse the elegantly lettered program that had been rolled up and tied with pale pink ribbon. When she unscrolled it, she understood why. By the time one sat down and opened the program, it was too late to make an excuse to leave.

Ten pieces were listed.

Ten.

Victoria stifled a groan. She appreciated Mozart and Bach as much as anyone, but to sit through ten different pieces—each with more than two movements—was just too much for her. She cast a covert glance at the other attendees to see if there were any other shocked faces, but there weren't.

She was just going to have to suffer through it.

At first Victoria listened. She truly tried to listen. She sat primly next to her mother, taking as much time as possible to arrange her delicate skirts in gentle folds over her knees and the chair. Then she clasped her hands neatly in her lap, with her reticule tucked under her fingers. She could feel the outline of a small glass vial in the little pouch, which reminded her of the screeching pain in her neck when Max had poured his salted holy water on the bite. Verbena had somehow acquired a small bottle and filled it for Victoria so she would have her own.

Seething over Max's supercilious comments and the pain he'd inflicted on her without warning occupied Victoria's mind for several minutes during one of Mozart's quartets. It was only when she realized she'd gone beyond crumpling her reticule with annoyance and on to mangling her silk skirt that she knew she would have to think about something not quite as inflammatory as Max.

Maybe there would be a vampire here tonight and she would have an excuse to slip out of the room. Victoria held her breath and concentrated on the sensations at the back of her neck.

It didn't feel the slightest bit cool.

Or…maybe another lecherous gentleman would try to take advantage of one of the young ladies, and Victoria would be able to teach him a lesson.

She tried again to listen. And she succeeded in paying attention to each of the four Straithwaite daughters and the array of instruments they played throughout a Bach piano concerto. For the whole three movements, she managed to follow the melody and its ebbs and flows…and Victoria felt that was quite an accomplishment.

But then she looked down at the program and realized the musicale was not even half over.

And her neck was still warm.

Submerging a sigh, she commenced to thinking about Rockley.

It was a delicious pleasure to recall the way they'd glided smoothly over the dance floor, his strong arms holding her just close enough to be proper, close enough that she could feel his warmth and smell the slightly smoky tang of his jacket. The way he looked at her with those heavy eyes made her want to close her own and slip into the memory.

She definitely wanted to kiss him. She knew that a kiss shared with the marquess would be nothing like the one Viscount Walligrove had imposed upon her. Fantasies about kissing might not be appropriate thoughts for a young lady—but then again, most young ladies didn't wear ash stakes in their hair and seek out vampires.

Nor did they have the strength and ability to instantly cut a grown man to his knees.

It was a heady power.

The only thought that marred her enjoyment of the memory of her dance with Rockley was the way he'd looked at Max.

And that thought brought her back to brooding about the master vampire slayer. His arrogance and sharp tongue grated on her nerves. And the way he looked at her when she even breathed the mention of a ball or dinner party, as if being a Venator and having a social life were mutually exclusive options…Her fingers crinkled her skirts again.

She felt a sharp elbow in her side, and turned to look at her mother, who was frowning and glaring down at Victoria's hands. She smiled at Lady Melly and made her fingers release the poor cloth and tried once again to focus on the music.

The seventh piece out of ten. More than half done. But…she looked closer at the list. There were at least three movements to each of the last three selections.

Victoria closed her eyes and then reopened them. She looked down at the list and counted again, and saw that indeed she'd been correct.

Vampires seemed to be making their way through Society events. Why couldn't one be attending the Straithwaite musicale?

There was no question that the music was beautiful. It was, and it was elegantly presented. The musicians were lovely to look at, each dressed in a different shade of blue: ice, robin's egg, cornflower, and sapphire. But one could listen to a trilling piano and a singing violin, viola, and cello for only so long without wanting to get up and walk around. Or stake a vampire.

Disappointment had her looking back down at the program again, willing the musical sisters to begin playing Mozart's Piano Concerto in D Minor, the last piece on the list.

At that moment, Victoria felt a shift of air over the back of her neck. It was cool. She straightened in her seat, no longer drowsy and bored. At last. Something to occupy her mind!

She tried to look around without appearing to do so. Then she realized the coolness was gone. And she saw that the shift in the air had merely been the faint lifting of breeze through an open window, which someone had blessedly had the sense to open.

Victoria stilled, waiting, breathing with long, slow breaths so she could focus all of her attention on the barometer at the back of her neck. Surely she'd felt something cool. It wasn't just the breeze.

But nothing changed.

When the Straithwaite sisters at last began the final selection in the program, Victoria felt a change behind her—as if someone were looking at her. The hair at the back of her neck tickled, sending shivers down one arm.

It wasn't a vampire, no. She didn't sense that. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. It was…

Victoria dropped her program accidentally-on-purpose and, ignoring her mother's frown, bent to pick it up, turning to look behind her as she did.

It was Rockley, standing at the back of the room, obviously a late—very late—arrival to the musicale. Victoria didn't know whether to be annoyed he hadn't had to sit through the whole program, or delighted he was there. Of course, there was no reason to believe he was there because she was.

Victoria looked at the three unmarried Straithwaite sisters with new eyes. Was he here to court one of them? They were all beautiful, even though the youngest was rather young, at just sixteen, to be debuted. And they were wealthy—much more so than Victoria was.

Now she was not only bored, but annoyed as well.

Then the last movement of the concerto ended. The string musicians pulled their bows away from their instruments for the last time. The pianist pushed back the bench and stood to join them in perfectly choreographed curtsies.

Everyone was applauding and standing up, at last. Victoria assumed it was from relief that the show had ended. But when she would have stood, Lady Melly snatched at her arm and pulled her back down into her seat.

“Rockley is here,” she hissed into her ear.

“I know that, Mother.”

“He's coming this way, Victoria. Remain seated. I am sure he will make his way to us.”

But what if he didn't?

Then… “Lady Grantworth,” came the smooth voice from behind her. It sent lovely prickles down her spine and sounded warm and familiar. “How lovely you look this evening. I trust you enjoyed the musicale?”

Then suddenly he was there, in front of her, standing in the small space between the rows of seats. Victoria didn't hear her mother's response to his question; she presumed it was one designed to take his attention off herself and direct it onto her daughter. Apparently it worked.

“Miss Grantworth,” he said with a bow and a delicious smile. “I find that I still have quite the thirst from last evening. Would you care to accompany me for some lemonade?”

Looking up at him from her spot on the red velvet chair, Victoria felt a smile of relief and pleasure relax her face. He was looking at her as if they were old friends…perhaps more than old friends. When he offered his hand, she stood, and he pulled her up. The cloth of their gloves slid against each other with a dull friction, but she was certain that wasn't the only reason her hand felt suddenly warm. “I am terribly thirsty,” she replied, slipping her hand around his arm. It felt comfortable, as if it belonged there. “Lemonade sounds lovely, Lord Rockley.”