* * *
“’Tis long past time to see ye in a color other than black.” Verbena clucked as she tied Victoria’s stays. “Ye cudda gone to half mournin’ six months ago and been wearin’ that pretty pearl gray. Even when ever’ one was mournin’ for Princess Charlotte, God rest her soul, they went to grays after six months. But no, no, you woulden and can’t say’t I blame ye, what with losin’ the marquess so horribly, but my lady, yer skin’s been missin’ the pretty colors like yeller an’ that peach. It’s right to be liven your cheeks up a bit.”
Victoria knew better than to attempt a word when her maid was in lecture mode. Likely Verbena had been saving it up the last nine or ten months and wouldn’t be dissuaded from saying her piece regardless of what her mistress might wish to interject.
“All I can say is, I’m glad I talked ye into leaving all them black and gray gowns at home. This is a house party, and ye should have fun. Ye deserve it, my lady. Ye deserve it.” Her impossibly hued orange hair was gathered into two springy bunches, one below each ear, and stuck out like fistfuls of stiff netting.
Their eyes met in the mirror, one pair a sparkling, good-humored blue, the other thick lashed, almond shaped, and serious. “But I’m glad t’see,” Verbena added more gently, “that ye didn’t leave off your vis bulla. What would we do wit’ out ye, and
the other Venators?”
Verbena, whose cousin was Barth the hackney driver, had recognized Victoria’s vampire-hunting amulet immediately after she’d begun wearing it more than a year ago. How she knew of vampires and Venators when the rest of London was blissfully ignorant, Victoria was uncertain; but it was a relief that her maid, who also inexplicably knew how to treat vampire bites and was not frightened of visiting places like The Silver Chalice, was aware of her secret. Having one’s maid in on the most intimate details of one’s life, especially when it involved much sneaking around and wearing clothing belonging to the opposite gender, was a great serendipity.
Victoria shook her head, drawing in a breath that was more restricted now that she’d been laced into her stays. “I feel better when I am wearing the vis,that is certain. Though I don’t expect to have need of it while here at Claythorne. To be sure, I would not have agreed to leave London had Aunt Eustacia not assured me she would send for me were there any threats to be contained. I’ve seen only one vampire, other than the one I killed, and found no sign of any others since that night I met Mr. Starcasset.”
“Yer Aunt Eustacia is one smart lady,” Verbena said, digging carefully through the pile of gowns so as not to muss them. “Though that butler of hers, Charley…he sure does know how to keep his mouth shut. Can’t say I haven’t tried to get’m to talk to me about the goin’s-on there, but his lips are’s tight as a clam’s. And that friend o’ hers, Mr. Maximilian Pesaro. He’s a right fascinatin’ Jemmy, too, if I do say. Frightenin’ly handsome, in a rough and bold sort o’ way.” She shivered. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a vampire—he’s got the elegant, dangerous look o’one.”
“You aren’t the first to think that of him,” Victoria replied dryly. She stood, pushing away from the bleached-wood dressing table, and turned to what was sure to be the difficult task of refusing to let Verbena dress her in bold carmine or bright jonquil for her first dinner at Claythorne. “He is a formidable Venator, that one thing is certain. I can’t say I understand why he left so quickly after Phillip died, but my aunt says he was needed in Rome. Though it wasn’t as if he were needed here. I think I shall wear the navy gown tonight, Verbena.”
“Navy? My lady, that’s near’s bad as the black! Wouldn’t this lovely mulberry color be more fittin’? See how’t brings out that dusky sort o’ rose color in yer cheeks? And next to yer black curls? An’ it makes yer lashes look darker’n a boar’s-bristle brush.” She thrust the preferred gown in front of her mistress. “Well, that Mr. Pesaro cert’nly helped ye last summer, when ye were tryin’ to keep Lilith from gettin’ th’ special book she wanted. Maybe he’d decided he’d stayed too long here and needed to get home.”
“Perhaps,” Victoria commented, unable to keep from wondering what it would be like the next time she saw Max. She felt that the animosity that had simmered beneath their politeness and forced proximity might have eased quite a bit after all that had occurred, even though she was still annoyed he’d left London so suddenly.
After all, she’d seen the impressive Max brought under the control and thrall of Lilith, showing a weakness she never would have attributed to him…and he had seen Victoria learn how to fight like a Venator and grow from an average debutante into a fierce, brave vampire hunter.
The gown of Verbena’s choice was fluttering down over Victoria’s shoulders before she realized the moment to stop it had passed.
“Not the mulberry!” she exclaimed in vain. “’Tis too bright!”
But the gown was on, and swiftly being buttoned up the back as Victoria looked at herself in the mirror. She did look well in the gown. Heavens, it had been more than a year since she’d been dressed so, and Verbena was right: it did bring out the faintest pink in her cheeks. She bit her lips, bottom, then top, and they plumped and reddened as though they’d been kissed.
“Very nice, my lady,” Verbena told her, making a narrow braid from one long curl at the top of her crown. “Ye have nothing to feel guilty fer, now. You’ve mourned your husband fully and completely, and whilst ye’ll never stop loving him, ye must remember: you’re still here, and ye still have a life to live.” She finished the braid and wound it around the rest of Victoria’s hair, which was piled at the back of her head in a heavy mass of curls.
“Yes, a life. And a duty.” Her green-brown eyes glittered above her flushed cheeks.
Verbena’s blue eyes met her gaze again. “A duty you are well suited for.” She slipped the last pin into her hair and smiled with satisfaction. “But it don’t mean ye have to be a nun.”
Victoria nodded at her reflection, then rose from the chair. “Time to go down to dinner, then. Perhaps I’ll have a bit of gaiety before duty beckons me back to London.”
“I’m hoping you do, my lady. Ye deserve it.”
Victoria left her room on the third floor and made her way down to the drawing room, where the rest of the guests would gather before going in to dinner. She’d arrived only two hours earlier, and thus had had a short visit with Gwendolyn, and then had repaired to her room to change for dinner.
Now she walked into the large drawing room and found that several of the eleven who would be dining had already gathered. Three gentlemen stood near one side of the room, and appeared to be holding hostage a bottle of some golden liquid. One of them Victoria recognized as Gwendolyn’s father, Viscount Claythorne. He was speaking with Baron Frontworthy, Gwendolyn’s most ardent suitor.
“Victoria! You look lovely.” Her friend rose and came to her side immediately. She was accompanied by an older, elegant woman. “May I make my aunt, Mrs. Manley, known to you, Lady Rockley.”
Victoria curtsied and complimented the woman on her gown.
“Good evening, Lady Rockley.”
Victoria turned at George Starcasset’s voice. He bowed over her proffered hand, and she made a brief curtsy. “Good evening, Mr. Starcasset. I must thank you again for making me one of your party.”
“Gwendolyn and I are so very pleased to have you with us.” He smiled and tucked her hand over his arm. “May I provide you with a sherry?”
“Indeed, that would be lovely.” Victoria cast a smile over her shoulder at Gwendolyn, who appeared to be not at all surprised at her brother’s attentions. In fact, her friend’s twinkling eyes told her she was quite pleased with the situation.
“The others shall be joining us shortly. Mr. Berkley and his sister Miss Berkley, you might perhaps know, along with Mr. Vandecourt. And our other guest,” Starcasset told her as he presented her with a tulip-shaped glass, “I am certain you will be quite pleased to meet. He is rather a celebrity.”