"No. "
"There was some sort of altercation there, but no one was hurt or injured. "
Melly raised her eyebrows. "No one was hurt, injured, or—heaven forbid!—bitten… and you ascribe the incident—whatever it was—to nonexistent vampires? Winnie, my dear, you really are taking those gothic novels too seriously. Everything violent or unexpected that happens in this city cannot be attributed to creatures like vampires. There is enough evil perpetrated by man that we don't need to invent paranormal beings to blame it on.
"Now, let us dispense with this nonsense and talk about something much more interesting… such as how soon we might have a little marquess on our hands!"
His wife was mad. She had to be mad, for the alternative was terrifying.
&nbs
p; For the first time he could remember, Phillip de Lacy, Marquess of Rockley, did not know what to do.
He left St. Heath's Row and drove his curricle into town. He stopped at White's, another of the clubs he frequented, and sat at a table by himself. He had several glasses of whiskey, a large hunk of beef that tasted like sawdust, and a slab of bread that could have carried weevils for all he noticed.
After White's, he felt restless and left to visit another gentleman's club, although he did not wish to be sociable at all. At Bertrand's he avoided his friends and sat in an empty room, ignoring the buzz about the unfortunates who had perished at Bridge and Stokes last night.
Perhaps that was the reason he did not wish to talk with anyone.
He did not want to know whether Victoria was right or wrong. He did not want to have to think about what it meant if she was right… or if she was wrong.
When Phillip had not returned to St. Heath's Row the next morning, Victoria could stand it no longer. She called for the carriage to come around and took herself off to Aunt Eustacia's home.
Her aunt took one look at her and understood. "He knows. "
Victoria sank into a chair, angry that her hands were trembling and that tears threatened her eyes. She nodded. "He's forbidden me to continue to hunt. "
Eustacia waited. She knew the power of silence. The sound of the clock ticking marked the minutes, paring away at the hope she'd placed in Victoria.
"I told him I could not stand by and let people die. "
Eustacia nodded. That was good.
"He became angry and left. He hasn't been home since we quarreled yesterday morning. "
"He saw you at his club?" Max had told Eustacia about the attack at Bridge and Stokes while she was tending to his wounds. It had been his attempt to keep her from lecturing him about taking better care of his injuries; she saw through it, and let him think he'd had his way. Then after he was finished, she chastised him roundly. Even Venators had to care for their wounds, she reminded him.
"Yes, he recognized me. I told him the truth; I couldn't hide it any longer, Aunt. I couldn't live the lie, keep feeding him salvi. "
"Of course you couldn't, cara. It is not in your nature to be deceitful. I realized it was a possibility that you would have to tell him at some time. I did not expect it to be so soon, and in the midst of this very precarious time—"
"What do you mean?"
"You and Max have had to stop two raids in the last three nights; perhaps there was even one last night that we weren't aware of. Lilith is gathering her forces. She is ready to make her move against you in retaliation for your besting her. She wants the book back, and she's put some plan in place to get it. " She rubbed the knuckles on her left hand, where the sharp sting of arthritis jolted her.
"Max is in no condition to be out, but he has been at the Silver Chalice since yesterday, trying to learn what is going on. " He'd suspected that Rockley would have recognized Victoria and that they would have had a confrontation, so he'd refused to let Eustacia get Victoria involved, insisting he'd handle it alone while she tended her home fires, as he put it so cynically.
"I knew he was badly injured, but he would not let me tend to them. "
"I know. He confessed it to me. " Eustacia sighed. She had other suspicions about Max's motivations, but now was not the time to air them. Instead she said, "He doesn't like to be coddled. "
"Aunt Eustacia, did I do the wrong thing in telling Phillip?"
"I don't know how you could have done otherwise; but I do believe there will be consequences. They may be as simple as the marquess trying to prevent you from leaving when we need you; or they may be more severe. You must impress upon him that this is not something he can be involved in, as much as he might want to protect you. He cannot. You must make it clear to him; or send him to me, and I will do it. "
Victoria nodded. She would do that—if he ever came back to St. Heath's Row.
"Now, cara, you must go home and get some rest. Your husband loves you; he will return in his own time, when he has come to terms with your confession. And we need you. Max cannot do this alone. "