Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 2)

"Of course. Perhaps you will feel better in the morning. Good evening."

Victoria bade the others good night and left the revelry still in progress. The last things she noticed as she left the room were Miss Berkley and Sebastian in a'tête-à-tête in the corner by the whist cards, and Mr. Starcasset's gentle blue gaze trailing her movements.

Back in her room, Verbena helped her to prepare for bed. She seemed unaware of her mistress's pensive mood, instead filling what would have been silence with giddy observations about the male species of Claythorne's staff. One in particular seemed to have caught her attention, and Verbena waxed poetically about the underbutler during the entire time it took to unpin Victoria's hair, brush it, and braid it into one wrist-sized plait.

"That will be all tonight," Victoria said, slipping beneath the covers of her bed. "Now take yourself off and see if you can find the impressive John Golon and bat your eyelashes at him a bit."

Despite her relatively early departure from the party downstairs, Victoria was certain she wouldn't find sleep easily. But the next thing she knew she was awakened by a sudden dip on the bed next to her.

She came fully awake and felt the movements of the large body on the mattress as hands groped toward her own person.

"Lady Rockley. Vi'toria."

Along with the low murmuring of her name came a waft of spirits. It was so strong it had Victoria turning away and holding her breath. A hand brushed over her face, and another along her arm… alarmingly close to her bosom.

"Mr. Starcasset? What are you doing here?" Slipping away from his grasp, she slid from the bed and lit a candle. The illumination was enough to show him blundering about in the blankets, then the lifting of his glassy-eyed face.

"V'toria… if I may c-call you that," he said, the syllables meshing into one another in a strange cadence. "I knew it… I knew the signs…"

"Mr. Starcasset, I can't imagine what you are talking about, but you are completely foxed." Victoria nearly had to laugh at the bemused, earnest expression on his face. Perhaps she should be affronted by the man's impropriety, but at the moment he appeared so completely harmless and befuddled that she could almost find the humor in it. The very proper George Starcasset would be mortified if he realized his inebriated self had barged into a lady's bedchamber in the middle of the night.

Certainly it was a common occurrence at house parties such as this one. Victoria had no illusions about the purpose of large parties set on an estate in the country—they were often the perfect excuse and opportunity for illicit trysts. But for some reason she did not picture George Starcasset as one who sneaked about, looking for a chance to tryst.

It simply appeared he had imbibed more than enough brandy after she had gone upstairs. Perhaps the overindulgence was to build up his courage… perhaps it was merely that he'd played too many games of whist.

Or perhaps he got lost on the way to his room. Victoria stifled a soft laugh.

There was nothing left for it. She had to get him out of her room and, hopefully, back to his… or at least to a different area of the house.

A quick glance down reminded her that traipsing around a strange household dressed in a frothy nightgown of little more than French lace and silk was not a prudent thing. With a glance at her late-night visitor, who appeared to have found comfort in her pillows, she pulled a pelisse from the wardrobe where Verbena had hung it, slipped her arms in, and buttoned the three buttons tightly over the bodice. She had to tug on the sleeves of her nightgown to adjust them beneath the narrow sleeves of the pelisse so they didn't bunch up. The cut of the long coat would do little to hide the long silk skirts of her nightgown, but at least her bosom would be covered. Snatching a pair of slippers, she tucked her feet into them and turned back to the bed.

"Come along, dear Mr. Starcasset. I suppose after this I. can call you George… at least for tonight." She giggled and tugged him off the bed. Thanks to her exceptional strength, it was no difficult task to pull him to his feet and sling an arm about his waist. He was beginning to lose track of his eyes; they would focus on her, then suddenly roll up into his head… then come back down and look at her again.

It wouldn't be long before he was out, and so she must move quickly to get him out of there. She could only imagine the horror on his face if he awoke the next morning in her room.

Smiling at the thought, Victoria walked him to the door and out into the hallway. She held the candle in one hand and half lifted, half dragged him with her other arm around his waist.

He was a bit taller than she, and his head began to loll alarmingly. Victoria realized she had no idea where his room was, or even which wing of the house it would be in. So she opted for the safest, easiest route: the library immediately belowstairs.

Thump, thump, thump… She directed him down the sixteen steps and by the time they got to the bottom she was dragging him, as he'd lost the battle with his eyes and neck. His head hung, bobbing easily, and when she peered down to look, his eyes were nearly closed, the lids fluttering as though he were dreaming behind them. His pale blond hair fell in a thick swoop over one temple, and his mouth made the slightest gap. Probably not the way he would want her to see him, Victoria thought, and smiled again, thankful that he would likely not remember much of what occurred. Thus if she said nothing, his pride would be salvaged.

Into the library she went, thankful that it was one of the rooms Gwendolyn had pointed out to her that afternoon. She deposited George in a large wing-back chair near a silent fireplace and tugged the collar of her pelisse back into place.

Something glinted on the floor; she nearly missed it, but the cast of her candle had unexpectedly glanced over it. One of George's buttons, perhaps? Victoria bent and, with a sudden intake of breath, snatched it up from the hooked wool rug.

No, not a button.

The disk was round and bronze and bore the image of a sinuous hound on it. It was identical to the one she'd found at the Silver Chalice.

Chapter 5

Of Balconies and Reprimands

Victoria smoothed her thumb over the bronze amulet. It could be no coincidence that she'd found one at Sebastian's place and then here again… where Sebastian just happened to be.Lips firming in irksome thought, she cast one last assuring look at George, who snored comfortably in his wing-back chair, then hurried out of the library and up the stairs.

Aunt Eustacia had not received a response from Wayren regarding the amulet before Victoria left London, but she'd been assured of an update as soon as she did. Victoria'd assumed the amulet had belonged to the demon, but that appeared not to be the case, since there were no demons or vampires here at Claythorne.